The Story of James McCommack

I, and so many like me are the innocent victims of IRA activity. What we have suffered as a result of IRA terrorism is unforgivable.

As a young man, a joiner by trade, life in the seventies was terrible. My first encounter with the enemies of my beloved Ulster was while working on the police station roof in Newtownhamilton. It was a spring day when the bullets rang out all around me. We had come under attack. As quickly as I could (and how I did I will never know) I reached the ground. What a sight met me. There lying at the front of the police station was Constable George McCall. As quickly as we could, myself and another person carried him inside. It was not a pretty, sight blood dripping everywhere. We placed him on a table but Constable McCall was dead. He left a wife and two little girls. What did I get? No award, no big chain, no counselling, nothing. But I have paid every day since with my thoughts, it could so easily have been me.

As a part-time member of the Ulster Defence Regiment I was on patrol in the Whitecross area when our Land Rover came under attack by gunfire. I was thrown around and received an injury to my left foot. In recent times I had to attend the doctor with terrible pain in my foot, which has over the years got worse and worse. My doctor assures me that it has all come from an old hurt. My foot is now riddled with arthritis.

On the same night we were ambushed at Whitecross, my cousin George Hawthorne was wounded. He survived that night but the IRA murdered him at a later date. Did I receive any compensation for what I came through that night? No nothing. Did I receive any counselling? No never.

In 1981 still working as a joiner I was employed at the Downshire Road Police Station. An inspector of the RUC brought me to an office and showed me a piece of paper on which their was a number of names including RUC Officers. On the list was my name. I was told to leave my work as I was in great danger and to get out of Newry. What was I to do?

My cousin Joyce Bryans died leaving a husband and two small children. Not for long the IRA murdered him at Kingsmills and left his children orphans. On the same night I was on duty with the UDR and was called to the scene. What a sight, bodies lay piled on the road where they had been shot. I will never forget it. Did I receive any counselling on this occasion? None.

On another occasion, while sitting in my local bar at Bessbrook 'The Pit', a bomb warning came through. I was sitting with my back to the window when the charge went off. How lucky I was. A 112lb bomb failed to go off. Counselling? Again none.

This for me is only the tip of the iceberg. I could go on forever.

Another Cousin, Jennifer Hamilton lost her husband Sydney Hamilton in the Glenanne bomb. I could go on and on, I have lost so many good friends and relatives to the IRA. No wonder as I get older my health is suffering. After all I have come through I am not one bit surprised. I put it all down to stress and depression I have suffered over the past thirty years. Sleep? I hardly know what the word means. When I put my head on the pillow so many thoughts and sights come into my head. I am lucky if I get four hours sleep a night.

I am one of the silent sufferers in this country.

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