. 02 December 1984 Remembering this week Oglach Kieran Fleming, age26 Ciarán got into difficulties and drowned in the Bannagh River, near Kesh, County Fermanagh escaping following a gun battle between undercover British Army and an Irish Republican Army unit. His body found in the river on 21 December 1984. Fuair sibas ar son saoirse na hEireann, dílis ar son Éire Aontaithe, I ndíl cuimhne i gcónaí. Fíor Gael e Leo Fleming The summer of 84 By Leo Fleming Memories are dear bought but you cant buy them, and whilst they can be heartbreaking you wouldnt part with them. As I stood recently at the Republican plot my mind drifted back many years to June 1984 when myself and a few friends decided to head off for a bit of a camping holiday. Money was scarce in them days, but we thought wed head off anyway for the weekend to get our heads showered, and by camping wed save on the expenses. We split into pairs to improve our chances of getting lifts. Finally we reached a pre-arranged meeting point, a local cafe, and decided to have a bite to eat. We werent sitting too long when three fellas walked in. As they approached I recognised one of them to be a close cousin of mine Ciaran Fleming, who had escaped from Long Kesh the previous September in the great escape. I could hardly believe that fate had brought us together in this way, nor could I contain my joy and excitement of a chance meeting with such a fine friend and comrade in this most unexpected of places. After talking a while we decided wed all team up and head for the hills. Ciarán and I had been imprisoned together in 1976. I was sentenced to 10 years but unfortunately Ciarán was sentenced to Life. So there I was thinking poor Ciarán still has a long time left in prison and Im getting out, but so it happened that he got out a month before me. The last time I saw him in prison was around about February of that year, when during a game of football on the big pitch he flattened me. No prisoners taken on the football field. Ciarán had gone to prison as a sixteen year old boy, unselfishly giving up, what under normal circumstances should have been the best years of his life, but the long hard years of protest and struggle had made him a man of great strength and determination. After escaping he returned at once to the ongoing struggle. I didnt know it then but during our time together that June he was recovering from a gunshot wound to the leg sustained during a confrontation with enemy forces. That was the kind of him, shy and unassuming. His thoughts and concerns were only for others. Ciarans love of his country and all things Irish was only matched by his love and adoration of his own family who supported him steadfastly throughout. So there we were, taking it easy, enjoying the beautiful countryside, lapping up the fine weather we had that summer. We had an old battered radio, which kept us abreast of the music, no news, we didnt want to be bothered with news for at least one weekend. We all mucked in, friends and comrades from far and near, cooking and cleaning, telling yarns and having a laugh. Ciarán wanted to know all about what was happening locally and how people were keeping. We all had a great time and the crack was ninety, but alas time went by and all too soon we had to part. The happiness of our meeting was tinged with the sadness of parting. So we wished each other well and said our goodbyes. We pledged to keep in touch and vowed wed meet again. That was the last time I saw Ciarán alive. On the 2nd of December that year he was involved in a gun battle with the SAS along the Fermanagh border. IRA Vol. Antoine Mac Ghiolla Bhridghe and an SAS soldier died at the scene. While attempting to return to base Ciarán got into difficulties and drowned in the Bannagh River. Four days later another of the campers, my young brother William Fleming was executed along with Danny Doherty by the SAS in the grounds of Gransha hospital. On the 22nd of March 1987 my dear friend and comrade Gerard Logue died while on active service with the IRA in the Top of the Hill. He too enjoyed the crack on the camp of 84. Thankfully the sadness of their deaths is more than tinged with the happiness of having known such wonderful people. To have had camaraderie with such selfless dedicated people is something that I will always treasure. My memory often takes me back to the summer of 1984. That special bond between us lives on.
Posted on: Mon, 01 Dec 2014 23:14:00 +0000