Missing in Action by Ralph Riegel

huge funeral pyre with the ashes later scattered along a local road and river. The only things left after the process were bullets recovered from Lumumba’s corpse, which were kept as grisly souvenirs.
    Mobutu, as he had shrewdly predicted, was the only beneficiary from the killing. Far from securing recognition of Katanga’s independence – and protecting Belgium’s puppet state – Lumumba’s death reinforced Congolese determination not to lose their wealthiest province. It also enraged Lumumba’s supporters who now staged a military coup of their own. The prime minister’s killing would forever stain Tshombe’s breakaway regime.
    However, Lumumba’s death did not immediately derail Tshombe’s separatist movement. Rather, it increased the stakes in the short term, and Katanga suddenly saw an influx of Belgian, French, American, German and even South African mercenaries eager to defend the statelet. These guns for hire – many of them veterans of the bitter colonial conflicts in north Africa and south-east Asia – were regarded as the ‘steel’ in the rapidly expanding Katangese army or gendarmerie.
    The availability of hard cash ensured that the gendarmerie had access to the very best in weaponry. Katanga even secured Fouga Magister jets for its air force, instantly giving it a major advantage over any UN troops to be deployed. Katanga also acquired some ex-US army armoured cars, including a number of Staghound T17E1 vehicles, which boasted a 37mm gun.
    The first UN troops from Ireland entered the Congo in July 1960 – one month after Patrice Lumumba’s doomed speech – in a desperate effort to hold the country together and prevent a civil war over Katanga. Niemba, an isolated outpost in Katanga, then claimed the lives of nine Irish soldiers in November 1960 and forever dispelled the thought that Ireland’s first major United Nations mission overseas would be little more than a parade ground exercise.
    Those responsible for the Niemba killings – members of the Baluba tribe – never understood that the Irish soldiers were in fact there to help them. The Balubas were one of the African tribes left most vulnerable by both independence and the threat of Katangan secession – to them there appeared to be no difference between Belgian mercenaries and Irish or Swedish UN troops.
    By the time Pat Mullins, John O’Mahony and the members of the 35th Battalion descended the steps of the Globemaster II at Leopoldville in June 1961, the Congo stood on the precipice of all-out civil war. The UN was deployed to keep the peace between armed groups determined to destroy each other or anyone who got in their way, but the Irish soldiers realised that the situation was much more dangerous than they had realised.
    ‘We arrived in the Congo to discover that we were the meat in the sandwich. The UN was there to keep the warring sides apart – the only problem was that some of the warring sides outnumbered and outgunned us,’ John O’Mahony said.

    Sgt Dan Carroll and Tpr Ned Regan on armed guard as a queue of Baluba refugees seek admission to a UN camp at Elisabethville.

    Members of the 35th Irish (UN) Battalion form up on parade outside Prince Leopold Farm. Note the blue helmets and the Carl Gustav sub-machine guns arming the troops. (Photo: Art Magennis)

    The bush on the far outskirts of Elisabethville. The Lubumbashi River is in the left background while the sprawl of the city is just visible in the right background. (Photo: Art Magennis)

    A young Tpr John O’Mahony poses for the camera while on duty at Elisabethville Airport in August 1961. Note the Magister jet to the left rear. In the centre is a ubiquitous Douglas DC-3 of Second World War vintage, while to the right is a Douglas DC-4. (Photo: John O’Mahony)

5 – The Slow Burning Fuse to Tragedy
    When Pat Mullins , John O’Mahony and the other members of the 35th Irish (UN) Battalion stepped out onto the tarmac of Leopoldville Airport they might as well