‘He’d probably been told not to cross the Border, but he was a stubborn man’

Derek Clarke should have travelled with his father, William Clarke, from their Castlederg, Co Tyrone, home to Pettigo, Co Donegal, to deliver potatoes on a weekend in the middle of August 1980.“He was going to go on the Saturday. I told him I’d go with him. Then a boy rang me looking to buy a car, so I never went. He didn’t go then until the Sunday,” says Clarke, his voice trailing off as he sits at his kitchen table outside Strabane.His father died after being shot 22 times by three IRA men while driving around a bend on the southern side of the Border, near Pettigo, at 2.30pm. “Oh, they were definitely watching him, all right,” Clarke says. READ MOREThe shooting was heard by gardaí at a nearby checkpoint, who immediately began a hunt for the killers. They had hijacked a car belonging to a Co Leitrim man who had taken relatives to the Lough Derg pilgrimage.William’s body was left in the car “in the rain”, Derek recalls, because there was a delay in getting a pathologist to the scene. His father was later taken to Letterkenny General Hospital.Word of his killing was brought within minutes to his wife, Lily, by her two other sons, Stanley and Norman, who were then serving in the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC).William Clarke, a UDR solder and cattle dealer, who was killed by the IRA in August 1980 near Pettigo, Co. Donegal “They arrived at around a quarter to three. They were in terrible shock. They told me that our father had been murdered. They got told while they were both on duty that day,” Derek says.Neither Stanley, nor Norman, could cross the Border to formally identify their father’s remains because they were police, so the task was left to Derek, the youngest of the brothers.William Clarke should not have been in Pettigo, either, because he was a member of the Ulster Defence Regiment, which he joined after the Nestle factory in Victoria Bridge closed in 1970, with 200 jobs lost.“He’d probably been told not to cross the Border, but he was a stubborn man,” his son remembers, “but he had good friends on the other side and he wasn’t going to stop seeing them.”On that day, William was going to visit Dan Gallagher. “He was a cattle dealer, like himself. They were good friends. He would have made that journey every two weeks.” No one has ever been convicted of William Clarke’s murder.The legacy of the Troubles along the Border will feature on Tuesday when Northern Ireland’s Victim Commissioner, Joe McVey, appears before the Oireachtas Committee on the Implementation of the Good Friday Agreement.The certificate of service presented to the family of William Clarke by the Ulster Defence Regiment months after he was killed by the IRA in 1980 In a survey of 2,000 people in the Republic, one in eight believed they fitted the legal definition of a victim, or a survivor, of the Troubles – someone bereaved; physically or psychologically injured, or who offers “a substantial amount of care” to someone injured.Geography matters. Fifty-one per cent of those polled who live within five miles of the Border self-identify as a victim, or a survivor, with 6 per cent saying they had directly witnessed an incident.More than a third said their mental health continues to be affected, with many not getting support. Unmet demand in the Republic is highest among the young, those living close to the Border, or the poorest.Twenty-seven per cent of those living in the Republic are getting services or support from at least one source, with 7 per cent doing so from Northern Ireland’s Victims and Survivors Service.Large majorities want better services, with 64 per cent seeking a dedicated victims and survivors’ organisation in the Republic, while just a percentage point fewer want Northern Ireland-funded services to extend to the South.Fifty-five per cent want “enhanced awareness” from the HSE – especially psychological therapy, including family therapy; while 59 per cent want a medical card for Troubles-affected patients.Fifty-three per cent want legal support to uncover information about their loved one’s killing, while there is strong support to teach the history of The Troubles in schools.“Only 3 per cent said it should not be taught at all,” said the Commission for Victims and Survivors research. “[There is] a strong public appetite for education, awareness, and historical understanding of The Troubles.”Welcoming last year’s Dublin/London legacy agreement, McVey says legislation alone is not enough because services must respond to people’s needs.Northern Ireland has learned much about dealing with legacy, including about where services need to go further and such experiences are there to be shared with Dublin, he adds.Dublin’s acknowledgment that help is needed for those affected by Troubles incidents in the Republic is welcomed by McVey, who says “practical measures” must respond to their needs and offer justice.Victims’ and survivors’ “experiences, losses and needs differ”, says McVey. “Decisions taken now will have consequences for generations,” he adds, and “independence, impartiality and meaningful involvement of victims and survivors” is central.Remembering his mother, Lily, Derek Clarke says she rarely, if ever, talked about William’s killing in her last 25 or more years. “Not a lot, no. There was no real help in those days,” he adds.Pointing to a photograph of his father in his Sunday best, Clarke remembered how he often “travelled to Ballyshannon with Mr Gallagher on a Friday to buy a few cattle”.“Maybe once or twice a month ... If he bought, they were brought back to Mr Gallagher’s farm on the southern side of the Border and kept there until the Sunday. “Most of the roads were blown up then, so vehicles couldn’t go across, but you could walk the cattle across. That would have been a Sunday job. He was a cattle-dealing man more than he was ever anything else,” says Clarke.“We were brought up to mix with our neighbours. If a Roman Catholic neighbour died, we were at their funeral wake. We had an open wake for my father. People came from all roads, both sides. Everybody was there.”Without drama, Clarke tells of his uncle, RUC member William Monteith, being murdered by the IRA while on duty in The Diamond, Castlederg, and his brother Norman’s near miss when he was shot.He had his own close calls too. In 1973, a bomb exploded in a shop as he drove by, throwing his car “30 foot into the air”. Derek escaped with “my eardrum busted and a few cuts and scratches”.He adds: “The worst of it was that there a wee girl on the footpath. She was blown in through the shop window. She was over from England staying with her granny for holidays. She was badly cut up.” Just weeks later, he was shot at in his milk truck by gunmen heading south of the Border after they had raided the local post office. “I saw a rifle coming out of the window. I dived out of the door. The lorry was riddled.”So, what would he do now about the past? “I would let the past go away, that would be my opinion. If we’re ever going to go and live together, we’re going to have to let the past go, move on, and start a new chapter,” Clarke says, plainly. “That’s probably hard for a lot of people to do, maybe. But that’s me, and my family would, too. I just don’t like talking about my father’s death, it’s hurtful.”