its form more like that of an all-round perimeter defence. Now that hostilities were entered into, they would ‘occupy’ the ground previously inhabited by their fire. Their original positions had, however, served their purpose, in that they had created distance, an area of stand-off between themselves and the Katangans so that during the sequential waves of attacks during the first day they had avoided being overrun.
At night the cooks managed to get bread, ‘dog biscuits’ and water to the company, and later Commandant Quinlan called a conference for his company officers. The platoon commanders reported a state of high morale among the troops despite the air attack. Commandant Quinlan said that Battalion HQ urged the Company to continue to hold out. He also reported on a phone conversation with the Burgermeister, using a phone in one of the villas, who had asked for a ceasefire to which he had agreed. But the Burgermeister’s request to send an ambulance into the area to retrieve casualties was denied as the Commandant suspected a trap. He reported that the water and power had been cut and stressed the need to conserve stored supplies of water. There was still no news of any relief column. Later that night two mercenaries, under the belief that the Irish had all been captured, inadvertently arrived at the roadblock in No. 3 Platoon’s area and were duly taken prisoner. Disarmed yet properly treated, they were locked under guard in a room in a villa. A long tense night began, each man wondering what the following day would bring.
Dawn brought the lights of tracer bullets whizzing over the heads of A Company, fired from buildings on a hilltop position over 450 metres away. A Company could not make an effective reply as with the light weapons they had the buildings were out of range. Suddenly, one of Lieutenant Kevin Knightly’s armoured cars swooped into No. 3 Platoon’s area and fired over 1,000 rounds towards the hilltop. The noise of the rounds clattering off the buildings was great for their morale, as was the cessation of the incoming tracer fire. It was not long, however, before the Fouga Magister jet came back again, this time flying higher than before, perhaps because of the reception it had received from Lieutenant Kevin Knightly’s armoured car Vickers gun the previous day. The Magister dropped two bombs into No. 1 Platoon’s area, one bomb landing beside a machine gun position on an ant hill, burying the crew, Privates James Tahany and Edward Gormley, both from Sligo. Sergeant John Monaghan, reacting quickly, dug out and pulled a shocked Private Tahany clear and neither he nor Private Gormley were seriously injured. A second aerial attack later missed its target and exploded on the side of the road. The continual strafing from the air had, however, damaged all of A Company’s scarce means of transport, eliminating the possibility of an escape. They would have to continue to fight it out on the ground.
Checking all-round defence and fields of fire of defensive position at Jadotville.
Courtesy of the Military Archives, Dublin
A shell crater from the bombardment of Jadotville.
Courtesy of the Military Archives, Dublin
Over the previous two days, the enemy had made up to ten attacks on their positions, but A Company knew they had inflicted heavy casualties on their attackers with relatively few, lightly wounded, casualties of their own. In No. 3 Platoon’s location, Lieutenant Noel Carey decided to rotate those in the platoon’s front trenches, as they had been under most fire for nearly three days with little rest. Then came more incoming 81mm mortar fire, and it was specifically accurate. The first rounds landed 100 metres in front of No. 3 Platoon’s forward trench, followed by another salvo which landed the same distance behind the trench. Lieutenant Carey reckoned that if the crews were bracketing their fire correctly, and it seemed certain they were, the trench he and the others were occupying must surely be hit by the next mortar salvo fired. He ordered everyone out of the trench, staying behind to man the Bren gun and ready to put up a defence if the enemy sent in an assault under the cover of this mortar barrage.
As the others rushed for the safety of the shelter of the rear trenches, Lieutenant Carey contemplated his precarious position and thought of his fiancé and family at home in Ireland. It came as little consolation to realise he had actually volunteered for this. Survival was foremost in his mind and with little time for prayers he nonetheless made a hurried pact with Saint Jude (patron saint of hopeless cases) that should he survive, his first child would be called Jude. This first child is now a serving Lieutenant Colonel with the Irish Defence Forces, Lieutenant Colonel Paul Jude Carey. Nonetheless, it was a dreadful feeling to be so defenceless, waiting in dread for the arrival of the next salvo of mortar bombs. To his surprise the mortar fire moved away to his right and he got back to his Platoon HQ trench safely and set about completing the rotation of his platoon among the trenches. They were determined to hold out, and demonstrated this with ongoing mortar, machine gun and small arms exchanges with the enemy throughout the day.
Late afternoon, as was now customary, there was a CO conference at Company HQ. Complimenting the Platoons on their efforts over the previous three days, Commandant Quinlan announced that a relief attempt was on its way. By dusk ‘Force Keane 2’ would be at Lufira Bridge and they were expected to break through at first light the next day. The platoon Commanders were delighted but went on to report that scarcity of water remained a problem and they were trying desperately to conserve what they had. Food too had become scarce, though despite all this morale remained high. However, the heat, dust and fatigue was taking its toll. Commandant Quinlan informed them that during his frequent phone exchanges with the Burgermeister the threat of a mob from the town attacking them was made repeatedly.
The platoon commanders returned to their trenches and passed on the good news that a relief column was on its way and they could expect to be relieved. Needing to drink, the troops were using tablets to purify the water in their water bottles from which they conservatively sipped throughout the night. It tasted horrible, yet having defied such huge odds nothing could taint the taste of victory they all felt. They stood at their posts eagerly awaiting the morning.
Next morning, Saturday 16 September, the Irish troops watched through tired eyes as the sun came up. All was quiet, then the distinct crunch of mortar rounds impacting and machine gun fire was heard from the direction of Lufira Bridge. A Company were elated; relief at last. The cacophony of machine guns and mortars was music to their ears, a richly orchestrated composition whose arrangement filled their senses, emotions and heads with the thought of freedom. Play it loud, play it long, play it any way you like, just keep playing, and with the final score’s joyful crescendo, let the exhilarating climax lift the soul and lift the siege. Then, just as suddenly, the Fouga jet came along the valley. It ignored A Company in Jadotville and instead headed straight for Lufira Bridge. The relief column, ‘Force Keane 2’, was just as exposed to aerial attack as was A Company. More so, in fact, for they were in the open and not dug in. But would it matter? Would the bombing be accurate? Could ‘Force Keane 2’, this time with the advantage of an additional Gurkha unit, achieve a favourable outcome where three days earlier ‘Force Keane 1’ had not? In the event, the combined effect of the Fouga jet’s bombing and a heavily reinforced Katangan and mercenary defence caused fatal casualties and chaos. In time ‘Force Keane 2’ would return to Élisabethville.
As before there were no communications between the relief column and A Company, so it was a while before A Company realised that they were once again having to stand alone. This time it would be under much harder circumstances. Seriously fatigued, dehydrated and with supplies of ammunition running low but not yet exhausted, food scarce and water all but gone, matters were bleak and the prospect grim. After one last sustained exchange it would be down to hand-to-hand fighting or the prospect of a brave but futile bayonet charge! It was as dramatic as that. The situation was critical and no one was sure they could hold out.
Around noon, still unaware of the final outcome of the fighting at Lufira Bridge, A Company heard the blades of a helicopter coming from Élisabethville. It was a UN helicopter,
