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Feb 2
We barged hard against the old door and managed to get in
Dark corridors led to a back alley where fantasy met reality
There they were, hundreds a shiny boxed small windows waiting for us
Richard picked up a stone, pulled his home made catapult and released.
Bam, a broken window now more broken
You have a go
I took it and hit a window, amazing sound and joy
The windows were in our sights

Left a bit, right a bit...
Patang, reload, hutchuck, dut, snnuuuck,
Adjust scope a little to the right
This time a hit, no movement from the crow
A small troop are marching up towards our house
Door bell rings
dad looks concerned
'There's a report of a youngster with a rifle?'
It's the UDR
dad looks very nervous
'Its just my son with an air rifle'
dad brings the rifle to the door and the gun licence he had
Firkin wee Duffie the headmaster has seen me with his binoculars
The wee sneak ..I rumble under my breath
'No problem sir, we're on our way out of here'
Wee Duffie had me in his sights

Returning from England the green walk up the Dungannon road is a fresh change from the hustle and bustle
Passing a bungalow on the right a man stares out at me, hands by his side
I take a left up a hill past Derek's place
We rode his white horse bare back in that field
Suddenly a car pulls up with the man and he winds the window down
'What's the name?' he growls
'What do you mean what's the name, I'm just out for a walk?' I retort
He reaches for the glove box, I stop
'What's the name?' he shouts again
I ignore him and continue walking
He accelerates quickly forwards stops and manages to make a U turn

Walking back home I'm confronted a small troop of soldiers marching the other way
A car pulls up
'What's the name?'
'Turner' I say
"It's the bank manager's son, stand down'
On reflection I processed this situation years later
The big man Stewart had thought I was a 'spotter' from the IRA spotting him an off duty policeman in his home so that a shooter could take him out
He had his hand on his pistol in his glove box with a view to pull the trigger
He had me in his sights
Memories from growing up on the border of Northern Ireland
Brian Turner
Written by
Brian Turner  United Kingdom
(United Kingdom)   
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