Soldier maimed in IRA blast at age 20 hits out at ‘wall of silence’ on legacy cases,
Patrick Provis tells Stephanie Bell about the woman who helped him recover from life-changing injuries and why he’s still fighting for closure on his time on duty in Northern Ireland
Patrick Provis was just 20 and on his first ever tour of duty as a soldier in Northern Ireland when his patrol was targeted in an IRA mortar attack. The assault in south Armagh on November 28, 1987, blew off the young soldier’s left arm and right hand, and left his body riddled with shrapnel.
Thirty years on and every second of the horror of that day is still clearly etched in Pat’s memory.
Now, as he looks forward to joining a Northern Ireland veterans’ charity for a special trip with other severely disabled soldiers to the Isle of Man TT races next week, Pat opens up about the day his life changed forever.
In a powerful interview, he reveals how he was determined to serve again in Northern Ireland and returned as a soldier after his recovery.
And the 51-year-old also shares his thoughts on the controversial legacy issue on the prosecution of soldiers who served here during the Troubles.
As Patrick was recovering from his injuries, he met and married an Army nurse, Janie, in 1989 after a whirlwind romance.
The couple live in South Wales and have five children: Daniel (28), Anthony-Luke (25), Aaron-Leigh (24), Naomi Jayne (20) and Oliver-Jon (17).
Pat was 19 when he fulfilled his boyhood ambition and joined the Royal Welch Fusiliers (now 1 Royal Welsh) in 1986. Just months later, in May 1987, he was sent on his first ever operational tour, to Northern Ireland.
“When I found out I was going to Northern Ireland I just thought that this is what I have trained for,” he says. “In all honesty it very quickly became a normal routine.
“I always knew there was danger but you have to put that into the back of your head otherwise you wouldn’t be able to do your job. Being in a heightened state of alert became normal. And then there’s also the fact that you don’t think it is going to happen to you.”
Patrick’s patrol had been dropped by helicopter into Glassdrumman in south Armagh, close to the border where they set up a temporary vehicle checkpoint.
They had been manning the checkpoint for six days when the IRA attempted to murder them by launching a mortar attack from a tractor hidden over the brow of a nearby hill. Pat and his colleagues were just going off-duty to get some sleep when the attack was launched.
He recalls: “I was part of a four-man team who had just manned the checkpoint for six hours and we were walking away, getting ready for some shut-eye.
“Next thing, there was this almighty thud and myself and my second-in-command turned to see what it was. All of a sudden we saw these three black objects in the sky
“We turned and ran for cover but we were too late. It was all over in the blink of an eye. I was knocked off my feet and I saw that my right hand was gone. I could just see blood and bone. Strangely enough there was no pain. I just felt numb all over.
“The first mortar had landed five metres from me and I was a very lucky boy as quite literally I shouldn’t be here.
“I didn’t see my left arm because the guys were very good at keeping my vision away from it. It had been shredded below the elbow and was dangling.
“Although I don’t remember doing so, I was later told that I had asked the platoon sergeant not to tell my mum what had happened to me because I would be okay in a fortnight.”
Fortunately, a Wessex Army helicopter was in the area and was there within minutes, airlifting Pat and his colleague, who had also sustained shrapnel injuries, to Daisy Hill Hospital in nearby Newry. From the moment of the attack until they arrived at the hospital, just 13 minutes passed.
As well as his maimed limbs, Pat had a huge piece of shrapnel in both legs, another in his upper left arm and one in his lower back, which posed a real threat to his life. He was bleeding out rapidly and now says that he owes his life to the helicopter pilots who risked all to rescue him.
“There were five mortars in total,” he explains. “Three went off, one landed on the roadside and failed to go off, and the fifth one, which could have hit the helicopter, got stuck in the tube and didn’t fire.
“The helicopter came in at a 45 degree angle and they lifted us into it on makeshift stretchers using combat jackets. It is still all very vivid and real ... and still I had no pain.”
Although Pat can recall arriving at hospital, he passed out shortly afterwards. From Daisy Hill, he was transferred to the Ulster Hospital in Dundonald where he spent two weeks mostly unconscious in the intensive care unit with a close protection team guarding him.
He drifted in and out of consciousness for those two weeks and has only
❝ We turned and ran for cover but we were too late ... I was knocked off my feet and I saw that my right hand was gone
one memory of that fortnight — the kindness shown to him by local RUC officers. He recalls: “My mum and dad had flown over and were with me. I came round once and, strangely, for some reason, asked my mum for a pear.
“I remember this RUC officer standing at the doorway with this huge basket of fruit in his arms and he said ‘I understand you wanted a pear’. He said the fruit was a token from the guys in Dundonald police station and I thought that was such a touching gesture.”
When Pat woke up after two weeks he was confronted with the life-changing extent of his injuries.
He found out that his left arm had been amputated below the elbow and that he had lost his right hand except for his thumb.
His bowel had been perforated by shrapnel hitting his lower back just below his body armour.
In total, he spent three weeks at the Ulster Hospital before being moved across the city to Musgrave Park Hospital for a few days. From there, he was airlifted to recuperate at the Queen Elizabeth Military Hospital in Woolwich, London. He was then transferred to Surrey’s Headley Court for rehabilitation — but not before getting one nurse’s telephone number. He had met his future wife, Janie, and wooed her from his hospital bed, marrying her two years later.
When Pat recovered, he had only one thing on his mind — getting back to his Army duties and serving again in Northern Ireland.
He returned in early 1989 and spent three weeks running CCTV operations in the watch towers in Cookstown.
He explains why it was so important that he came back. “I wasn’t allowed to go out on patrol and stayed inside but that was enough for me,” he says. “I was able to show my colleagues I was still a soldier. It meant everything to me to show my mates I was still me.”
Against his wishes Pat was discharged from the Army later that same year; he was simply told by the Ministry of Defence that he was surplus to requirements.
Showing incredible resolve, however, he has gone on to rebuild his life. Not only did he learn to write using his thumb and the stub on his left arm, he also passed his driving test which, ironically, he had previously failed with two functional hands.
No one was ever arrested for or charged with the attack on Pat and his colleagues. It is something he has pursued with no success, and it is why he believes the current debate on legacy issues and prosecution of soldiers is unfair.
He says: “We were there because the government ordered us to be there to protect life. In my mind any person that breaks the law should be prosecuted. Of course, as we know, operations in the province were never black and white and I feel that many of these legacy cases are the result of failings by successive governments who have left troops open to that.
“In many incidents where troops were injured or murdered, no investigation took place or files were apparently lost.
“For me, the legacy case issues are very one-sided indeed. I know that from recent experience as I have been down the road of trying to get any investigations documentation released from the PSNI/RUC records and have came up against a brick wall. A wall of silence seems to exist.
“It would seem to me and many other soldiers and veterans of Operation Banner, that we as former soldiers have no rights and, in effect, many of us who have suffered and still suffer will never have any real closure.”
Pat, whose wife is a keen motorcyclist, is delighted to be included in a special trip to the Isle of Man TT races in June organised by the local charity for veterans, Let’s Do, set up by local man Robert Maxwell. The trip to the Joey Dunlop Foundation Lodge on the Isle of Man has been four years in the planning by ex-serviceman Robert and his charity and will see 10 severely disabled veterans travel to the island for a week.
Robert, a former member of the Royal Irish Regiment, set up the charity four years ago to support disabled veterans on their road to recovery.
“This year we are taking disabled veterans from all over the UK to the Isle of Man for the TT races,” he says. “There will be 10 in total, three are wheelchair dependant and we have two from Northern Ireland who are both amputees. We are going to the TT because it is an experience in itself. Our charity is all about helping veterans to reinvigorate by going away with a group of like-minded individuals.”
Pat is delighted to be included. He adds: “It means an awful lot to be going on this trip. The guys who are going have been affected by operations around the world and to have that comradeship as well as the excitement of the motorbikes is fantastic.