Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
British troops, who had for the previous 16 months been patrolling South Armagh, were suddenly whisked back to the mainland for a little R&R (mainly fighting their way round Caterham) and then some serious training (fighting their way round Aldershot). To be honest, the real training that followed that set of melee’s was far more suited to confronting short range nuclear weapons rather than a 40 strong IRA Brigade that could slip silently from the Republic into the North and back again.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
I’d been stationed in Washington for much of ’82 post my extraction from involvement with The Methodists (see theories - #23/28). Pen pushing, relationship wrecking & martini demolish
ing being at the top my agenda. Working for the Government Communications Bureau did have downsides too, namely; being in bed by 11 and being home before dawn. They were dark days and I just didn’t care. The world was accelerating towards the void.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
Anyway, my head of station had seen this stuff happen to bored operatives beforehand and he urged me to make more of an effort to get to know the opposition better. He posted me to New York to work out of the UN for a few months. It was there that I discovered that the general gossip I’d picked up in DC about possible conflict had moved from nondescript to deafening. The US were squeezing the Russians too hard. The Russians were not going to back down. Something must crack.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
I was working the solo nightshift in our poky office on 5th Ave & 16th St all that Christmas week. I preferred working at night, I preferred working alone. Not least because I could listen to the radio stations of my choice. The new sounds coming out of the Bronx were fascinating and to admit that the rest of the small team struggled to engage with the new phenomena would be a massive understatement. As new beats flew around the room, a whir of tape began and the teleprinter clattered into life. It was 23rd December.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
The build up of Soviet Bloc troops had been slow, laborious and deliberate. NATO had responded in kind (hence the move from the fields and lanes of the 6 counties to the fields and lanes of Braunschweig). Warnings had been issued, threats and counter-threats batted back/forth and clear lines had been drawn. Mutually assured destruction was the only possible outcome, if either side transgressed. And yet the overriding message was clear and obvious, the Soviet’s would wait until the NATO forces were safely tucked up in their barracks after a boisterous Christmas Eve and then they would surge across the border.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
So, what was this flurry of communications all about? First report came from the British Frontier Service. A platoon had come under rocket fire from over the border. A secondary report expanded on the initial claims. 5 missiles had been launched from East Germany into West Germany, 2 civilians and 2 BFS soldiers had been killed. I liaised with London and put a call in to Head of Station. I explained that the Soviet aggression had started. The final countdown to Armageddon had begun… My Station Head rang off to take a call from London. He would call me back.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
I’d fully expected to be contacted within minutes. The teleprinter continued to churn out various corroborating reports for the next 45 minutes until, a power cut kicked in. Manhattan was plunged into darkness. F’k me, this is it. Traffic horns blared as the streets snarled up. The radio played on (batteries) and the South-East Krush Krew continued to woo the ladies and rage against the Hoboken Five . Obviously, the Bronx still had power.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
I could see the canopy of missiles flying above the globe, I could see cities evaporated, fires enveloping towns, smoke & heat, devastation, the ultimate devastation. I kissed the world goodbye, my last thought was, what should my last words be? I then reminded myself (the curse of, as then un-diagnosed, ADHD) that I was responsible for triggering the small but very spiteful devices I had managed to secrete in the NY sewers underneath the East German and Yugoslavian Embassies. The Soviet’s were far too canny to fall for the old bomb in the drains trick. I switched on the torch. I took the key out of my drawer and headed to the safe. I drew back the safe door. I pulled out a code book.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
And then, the power came back on. The phone rang. The Deputy Head of Station was on the line. “False alarm, no missiles fired by Soviet side. Must have been one of ours gone rogue. Malfunction. Unfortunate accident. No need for retaliatory action. Stand by for further information”. I stared at the code book in my hand. I placed it back in the safe and shut the door.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
I replayed the Deputy’s words in my head. “False alarm, no missiles fired by Soviet side. Must have been one of ours gone rogue. Malfunction. Unfortunate accident. No need for retaliatory action…. no need for retaliatory action… …. no need for retaliatory action…”. I sat on the floor of the office as the South-East Krush Krew turned their attention to “young white boys, stealing our thing”.
Everyone knew it was coming on Christmas Day.
Taken from: "Notes from a rather unconvincing source" - John Zéro -
To be published sometime in 2023
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