Bloody Hell

Frankie looked down the road before him. It was soaked with rain, and soggy newspapers. Right at the end of the road stood a straight line of bobbies, riot shields at the ready.

So far, he'd distanced himself from the violence that had plagued the city, however, now he'd had enough of the excessive force used by Her Majesty's Police Force. He reached into his pocket and produced a small lighter. With it, he lit the oily rag that was stuck into the bottle and chucked it down the road towards the police. People scattered as the ignited liquid spread out before the policemen. 

One brave soul, standing around five foot nine, wearing a leather jacket and light jeans, kicked out at the riot shield closest to him. The policeman braced himself against the kick but still took a step back. He was shaken by the violence and pushed against the extended leg of the lad.

The boy felt a strong forearm wrap around his neck from behind. Then a hand lock around the wrist and tightened the grip. 'You little shit' a voice said 'think you're big and clever do you? I'll break your neck you little twat.'

Frankie saw this, annoyed, and ran over to the scuffle. He swung at the aggressors head, hitting him at the bad of the skull. Just hard enough for him to release his grip. He fell to one knee, holding the back of his head.

They pounced on him like lions. Punching and kicking at the policeman laying before them. Savages, at best. Once the dust had settled, the protestors disbanded, the officers helped their wounded comrade. Dragging him behind the line of shields.

News: Soldiers Injured

'Soldiers have clashed with Republicans today as tensions rise between the two waring sides. Soldiers were sent in to assist the police against both Loyalist and Republican attacks that have increased in the past few days.'

'One particular soldier, Private Capaldi, was struck over the head with a bat, drawing blood. The injury required stitches as no protective headgear was worn. Another soldier, Private Dickenson, was struck by a projectile, possibly a brick or some form of rock, knocking him to the ground.'

'A spokesman said that these attacks will not go unpunished as the lives of soldiers were at risk.'

Person of Interest: Billy Wilks

Name: William 'Billy' Wilks

Age: 55

Occupation: Landlord, Leader of the SLA

Attributes: Grey hair, balding, cross tattooed on right forearm, gold wedding ring. One gold tooth, incisor.

Notes: Wilks is a former soldier, serving in the Black Watch, and is considered dangerous. Unlikely to be armed but keep at arms length just in case. He was accused of murder in 1967 but there was insufficient evidence to convict him. Drives a red Ford Cortina Mk V Saloon. Several assault charges but never incarcerated. Has been an informant for several months. Protect him at all costs.

What's All This, Then?

They came in swarms, Republicans and Loyalists, wearing balaclavas, stockings, and hoods to hide their identity. They threw bricks and bottles at the police, and each other, and lit fires mere metres away from residential houses.

'Fuck the Queen' on youth said, 'Hang the bastards.'

'Get outta here you rebel bastards.' A young loyalist said, throwing a brick.

The policeman closest to the group of youths swung his truncheon, cracking one of them on the back of the head. 'Get home lads, it's past curfew for you lot.' He said.

'Fuck the curfew,' a young rebel said 'you're just trying to keep us opressed, fuck you mister.' 

'I'll tell your ma, you little brat, get going.'

'My mam thinks your a tosser anyways.'

The loyalist youths mocked the young Rebels as they sauntered off down the road. One of the rebels, about 14, turned and threw a bottle at the policeman. It hit him and he turned around, sticking his fingers up, triumphant.

The crowd dispersed as quickly as it appeared, and that was that. All quiet on the North Eastern front once again.

News: Football Fans Clash

'Today, fans of football rivals Sunderland and Newcastle clashed in the street this afternoon. It was instigated by a one Scott 'Scotty' Johnson Senior. He threw a glass bottle at a group of Newcastle fans walking through the city centre. It struck a fan and all hell broke loose.'

'Boots and fists were flying everywhere as a sea of red and white scarves jumped in, battering the Newcastle fans. The fans fought back, however, and a well-known hooligan pulled a knife on Scotty Senior and slashed his Donkey Jacket open.'

'Police arrived on the scene in no time, carrying truncheons as per usual. This is when the fighting stopped between the fans. The violence was then focused on the policemen, with Newcastle and Sunderland fans fighting together against the men sent to quash the situation.'

Round the Back

The snow was fresh on the ground and Jack was waiting. It was going to be his last job, then he could settle down, be a family man again. Just one last job. He had a Tommy Gun, and was wearing a balaclava - he was an associate of the target.

The man in question was one Edward McGuire, or Eddie Fish to his friends. He was a fish monger from Monkwearmouth and sold fish and other items. He had a long curly perm and a thick moustache.

He slid the key into his front door and turned it. The snow had soaked his leather jacket and his hair was peppered with snow flakes.

Jack was stood at the rear of the house, watching and waiting. He stopped at the kitchen window and peared through. He could she Eddie's shadow moving in the hallway.

Eddie removed his coat and hung it on a peg behind the front door, 'shit' he said to himself, realising he had forgotten to get the eggs. He moved through the hallway into the living room and sat down. There were pictures on the walls of family members and a football plaque.

Jack moved to the back door and checked the handle, it was open. He pulled the door ever so slightly, trying to make as little noise as possible. He crept into the back hallway and closed the door behind him. His ankle boots made a soft noise on the carpet leading up to the living room.

Eddie heard the noises and became alert. He jumped up off of the sofa and snook to the door. 'Who the fuck's there?' He said, his voice trembling slightly.

'You know why I'm here, Eddie,' Jack said 'it's been coming to you for a long time, you want to thank Christ you lasted this long.'

'Jackie? Is that you?' Eddie said.

'Fuck' Jack said to himself. 'Get down on the ducking floor' he yelled at Eddie.

'OK, OK,' Eddie said, getting down on the floor, face down.

Jack entered the room and pointed the Tommy at Eddie. 'I'm sorry Eddie' he said.

Walk Home

I remember it like yesterday. It was December 1980, I was 10 years old. There was me, Jock, Scotty, and a few other local kids. On the road that we walked home on, from school, there had been an explosion. Rubble, mainly bits of brick and mortar, wood, and bits of metal were strewn out onto the road. We were young and naïve and hadn't a clue what had happened. 

We clambered onto the pile of rubble and started picking through the remains. There were two sticks, about the length of a small rifle, and me and Jock imitated what we'd seen on the streets: gunfire. The older boys standing around laughed and cheered us on as a group of policemen stood by, talking to residents of the area.

I overheard an elderly women say that there had been a metal bin left out the front of the chip shop, just by the entrance. She said it was suspicious due to them leaving their bins out in the back lane.

She saw a van drop it off at around 8am and thought nothing of it. A few hours passed and then she heard a loud bang, and her house shook. The next thing she knew was that the chip shop was no more, completely obliterated.

This was when I first realised the full extent of this conflict. These things had been on the news, but never a bomb. I rushed home, my heart beating in my ears, I thought the worst. My parents, were they dead? Only time would tell. 

Tea and Biscuits

Mrs O'Malley's hands shook slightly as she brought the tray across to the two Privates outside of her home. On the tray stood two China cups, a blue teapot, and a plate of biscuits. 'Would you boys like a cuppa?' She said placing the cup down on the front wall.

'I wouldn't mind, pet,' Private Matthews said, reaching out to help her with the tray.

'Milk, two sugars please.' Private Nicholson said.

'No bother lads, help yourself, please' she said with a smile 'there's plenty more biscuits as well.'

Mrs O'Malley held onto the teapot lid and poured out the tea into a China cup with pansies painted on. Next she lightly held the milk jug and poured the milk into the mix. 'Was that two sugars?' She said.

'Yes please,' Nicholson said 'wouldn't have it any other way' he chuckled to himself and took the teacup. He took a sip, it was milky and sweet. 'Ah - just how I like it, cheers pet.'

Mrs O'Malley smiled and poured another cup of tea for Matthews 'how do you take it dear?' She said.

'Milky, no sugar.' Matthews said.

A group of youngsters, aged between 12 and 15, sulked past the two Privates and glowered at them. 'Fuck off you pricks' the oldest one said, sticking his fingers up at Matthews, 'oppressive bastards.'

'Fascists.' Another one shouted, spitting in their direction.

'Oh, ignore them,' Mrs O'Malley said 'you boys are doing a fine job out here, serving Queen and Country, God bless you both.'

'Thank you, mam' Nicholson said, dunking a biscuit into the tea.

The oldest of the youths threw a stone and it hit Mrs O'Malley's front window. 'Bastards' he said 'Fascist pigs.'

'Watch it son,' Matthews said 'I'll tell your old lady what you've been up to.'

'Do it,' the boy said 'see what I care.'

News: Football Unites a Divided Region

'Tonight's report looks at how a simple sport has united a divided community, so here's John McDonald bringing you a well thought out report.'

'Over recent months, our region has been hit with an increase in violent activities, from both sides, but tonight I am looking at how Football, the working man's game, has sealed the gap between the two warring communities.'

'Every day, in parks, school yards, and backlanes all across the region, children from both sides of the divide come together to play a quick game of footy, using jumpers as goal posts, and sliding at each other's ankles. What unites these kids is the love of local football teams, like Sunderland. Politics don't matter to these boys and girls. As they say, ignorance is bliss and that really shows here.'

'Even amongst adults, this beloved sport can bridge a divide as members of both sides stand and watch Sunderland at Roker Park. No guns. No violence. No hate.'

News: Policeman Attacked

'PC Allan Whitman, 40, has been attacked in the Chester Road area of Sunderland today after clashes between armed police and republican protestors. Eye witnesses said that Whitman, a well respected man amongst Loyalist communities, was struck by a brick thrown at him from over a fence.'

'The fence in question was erected by a joint agreement between the police force and the British Armed Forces. This was to keep the warring communities apart, acting as a deterant. However, in the past months, there have been several cases in which members of both communities have scaled the fence in order to attack each other. Warning shots have failed to act as a deterant and the fence has garnered criticism from leaders on both sides.'

'Plans have been put into action to have the 10 foot security fence taken down, however many members of the acting council have declined any further action other than to increase security forces at the checkpoint.'

Sunderland Loyalist Factions

Above: Sunderland Loyalist Association (SLA) members dressed in black, armed with a variety of weapons.

Above: Members of the Sunderland Defence Force (SDF) dressed in casual clothing armed with AKs.

Within the town of Sunderland there are two main Loyalist groups, the SLA and the SDF, both of which fight against the SRM in and around Sunderland. Their numbers are low but they make up for that in their determination to fight for Queen and Country.

They get their arms from a number of sources, including the British Army and include SLRs and AK47s. They also have access to Sterling SMGs and Browninh Hi Power handguns.

They work in cohesion with the British Army and act as an auxiliary unit, patrolling areas with high Republican activities. Gunfire has been heard around the Grindon area, as well as around the town centre, with Loyalists fighting alongside the British Army.

Although both of the Loyalist paramilitaries are fighting for the same cause, there are many cases of inter-fighting between the two groups.

DISCLAIMER: Although my project holds parallels to that of The Troubles, I do not condone the actions of either side of the conflict and I believe that it was a terrible time in British, and Irish, history.

Factions

As you may have guessed by my last post, I will be highlighting some of the factions on each side of the civil war. This includes Republicans, Workers Unions, Loyalists/Royalists, and her Majesty's Armed Forces.

I've already covered the Sunderland Republican Movement, and I shall have the next one up asap. I still don't have any models to start the 20mm side of things but that shall change soon.

We're moving in a month or so, so I'm hoping my hobby picks up then. Until then,

Cheers,

Sean.

Sunderland Republicans

Above: Members of the Sunderland Republican Movement (SRM) armed with a variety of firearms (rifles and sidearms) as well as wearing a mix of military attire and casual wear.

The SRM are a fairly young militant group founded in 1980 by George Hamilton, along with his father Michael Hamilton. They were, at first, a peaceful political organisation set up as part of a wider Republican Movement based in Liverpool and London. They were never voted for thus never getting a seat on the council. 

The elder Hamilton couldn't accept this defeat and, contacting his wife's Uncle in Londonderry, asked for arms to be shipped over to them in Sunderland. The Uncle agreed and sent a handful of firearms including several AKs, two sterlings, and a number of SLRs. This shipment went unnoticed by authorities and strengthened the SRM.

Their first operation was against the occupying Loyalist forces. They shot and killed two Paras near a checkpoint in the town centre. This attracted large media attention and it wasn't long before they claimed responsibility for the attack. 

The Hamiltons remained unidentified, however, and a manhunt for supporters spread across the city. Similar attacks took place across the country, with police officers being killed in Newcastle, Liverpool, and London.

News: Loyalists Set Up Garrison In Sunderland

'Welcome, to the News at 10, since our last broadcast we have been informed that Loyalists, those loyal to the crown, have set up garrison in the town of Sunderland. Met with hostility from the working classes and the republican community, they have set up roadblocks along some of the towns main roads, enabling them to smoke out those suspected of Republican activity.'

'They have been backed, and trained, by Her Majesty's Armed Forces and have been supplied with ex-military equipment. These men have exchanged gunfire with Republicans in the town centre, no deaths have been reported but several Republicans have been injured in the struggle.'