LOUISE WOODHAMS
Growing up with The Troubles may have robbed Barry Wilson of an idyllic childhood but it did give him a love for the green oval
A man born into conflict explains his love of Land Rovers to Louise
The Northern Ireland conflict, commonly known as The Troubles, killed over 3500 people and injured another 50,000 from 1968 when civil rights agitation brought a brutal response from the state and loyalists, through to the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, but it didn’t end the violence and the country’s future remains ambiguous.
By far the worst year was 1972, which kicked off when 14 marchers against internment were shot dead by the British Army on 30 January – a day which became infamous as Bloody Sunday. This massacre gave a huge incentive to militant republicans, and the paramilitaries upped their campaign to its greatest intensity; 480 people lost their lives that year.
The death toll remained high throughout the 1970s and the bouts of political violence and deadlock together with low-intensity armed conflict between republican and loyalist paramilitaries, the British security forces, and civil rights groups, continued well into the 1980s.
Ulster was a battle ground between these two decades and a hellish time to grow up, with shootings and bombings a regular occurrence as 48-year-old Barry Wilson can testify. He grew up in the small village of Castle Caulfield, just over 45 miles outside of Belfast, where he lived until the age of 18 when he went to college in Newcastle upon Tyne to study art.
“It was a small village in the southeast of County Tyrone surrounded by sparse highlands and lush river valleys and it was a nice place to grow up, but there was always a lot violence going on and it was frightening. Almost 50 people were killed in and around Dungannon where I was born and just a few miles from my home during the conflict – terrorist activity was a big part of life – it was the way things were and you just accepted it as such,” he explains.
Archive photos show security bollards, which graced most towns in Northern Ireland during that time, and as well as childhood memories of road blocks and checks and bomb scares, he also recalls all of the dark grey police and olive green army Land Rovers, which are synonymous with The Troubles.
The Royal Ulster Constabulary had long used armoured vehicles to provide protection to its officers, and the first appeared in 1957 based on a Series 1 109” wheelbase pick-up body, which provided a basic level of protection. However, as police became under attack from firearms, the Hotspur was developed, based on the chassis of a 109 Station Wagon.
A countless number of modifications were made over the years and Hotspur worked admirably, but it was later complemented by the Simba, a more advanced version. No longer a civilian model with armour bolted on, it was fitted with a purpose-built armoured steel body providing 360-degree protection against high-velocity rifle fire, bricks, bottles, petrol bombs and small, home-made bombs.
Due to its advanced and custom-built nature it was slow to produce and, with a rather urgent need to get more armoured police vehicles on the streets, the Tangi was born. Featuring some of the kit from the Hotspur, together with other trick bits, the brand new Defender 110 chassis was well liked – mainly thanks to the arrival of power steering, coil spring suspension, disc brakes and air conditioning.
“They really stood out in the Irish countryside and growing up with these vehicles must have planted a seed in my head as I’ve always had a love of Land Rovers,” he recalls. And it seems rather apt that today
"Terrorist activity was a big part of life – it was the way things were"
he owns an ex-military Series III and lives in Shoeburyness – an area with a military heritage that is nationally recognised and protected. Rewinding back a bit though, it wasn’t until he was around 38 that he got his first taste of green oval ownership with an early Freelander.
He takes up the story: “It had the 1.8 petrol engine, which were notorious for their technical issues, including a head gasket problem, although mine had that fixed. I liked the design, style and size of them, and they were practical, too. After that I had the V6 with automatic transmission as my wife found it easier. I owned it for a good number of years and it was a nice car, but in the end the gearbox went.”
After that came a diesel 2001 Discovery which he purchased two years ago and still has as his daily driver: “It’s the best car I’ve ever owned. The seven seats are perfect for my five- and three-year-old and their friends, it’s very comfortable, surprisingly easy to drive considering its size, and a strong, solid vehicle, which so far seems to have proved reliable."
We’re here however to shoot his 1980 Series III SWB, which he’s had for almost a year now: “I’d been searching for the right one for a long time – almost four years in fact, and this one finally came along at a reasonable price. It was also close by, with low miles on a good chassis, which is quite unusual, and with the 2.25 four-cylinder which is what I wanted. I also fancied an early Series I, but the Series III seemed a little more modern and definitely more affordable.”
Although it’s been ground off, there is some evidence of a military plate by the front seat. Sadly no service history came with the car, but it’s believed to be on its original plates so if anyone recognises it and can allude to its elusive background, please get in touch (details on page 3). He had planned on making it look a little more smarter, repainting it Bronze
Green with a Limestone Cream roof and wheel hubs, but he’s been told by so many people to keep it as original as possible that he’s now unsure.
He has already done some work to it. As well as a full service, he replaced the master clutch cylinder, and had the ignition switch and handbrake ratchet rebuilt. It could do with a set of new doors, but other than that, with a seemingly genuine 56,000 miles on the clock, there’s not much else that needs doing.
Like a lot of Series Land Rovers, however, it does have a few idiosyncrasies. The petrol filler cap, for example, has been relocated for some unknown reason to under the front seat, so to fill it up you have to take the front seat apart. A lot of petrol stations won’t release the pump as they recommend you keep the doors closed to stop filling cabin with fumes, so quite often Barry has to explain to the cashier that this isn’t actually possible! Bizarrely, most of the switches inside appear to have been homemade, too.
“I only use it during the occasional weekend and to pick up materials for a community building project that I’m doing – the refurbishment of an old church on the Garrison Conservation area where I live. Besides, I like its little quirks. My favourites have to be the air vents which seem to act as the car’s nostrils sucking smells into the vehicle. You’ll be driving along the seafront at Southend, and all of a sudden you’ll get a whiff of BBQ smoke, candy floss or fish and chips.
“I don’t think I’ll ever part with it – unless I have to update the Discovery and need to raise funds. I’d never switch to another marque now, and while they’re both so different, I love the fact that they have the Land Rover hallmarks in common – robust, wellmade and beautifully designed.”
Although a child of The Troubles, a time filled with fear, pain and hatred, it has made Barry who he is today: a teacher, supporter of the local community, dedicated father, loving husband, and lest we forget, an advocate of Land Rover.