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Contact details

Effective today, the contact details for the Northern Ireland Veterans' Association have changed to the following

The Secretary
57 Mortimer Street,
Derby.

DE24 8FX

Email: membership@nivets.org.uk
Web: www.nivets.org.uk
Mob: 07368 293729

NIVA Administration.
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Gunner Clifford Loring

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  • Gunner Clifford Loring

    KIA 31/8/71 in a gun attack at Stockman's Lane in Andersonstown, West Belfast where he was wounded two days earlier. He was standing on checkpoint duty when he was hit in the head by a shot fired by a sniper operating from around the junction of Owenvarragh Park and Owenvarragh Gardens. An army sergeant showed the inquest a bullet hole in the corner of his own flak jacket explaining the round passed through it before hitting Gnr Loring. "I was knocked down and Gnr Loring fell beside me." No organisation claimed responsibility. Clifford was 18 and is buried in Grimethorpe Cemetery, South Yorkshire, (pictured).

    Source: "Lost Lives" 2004

    Visit tree 49/189 @ the NMA and say hello.

  • #2

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    • #3
      Be who you are and say what you feel...
      Because those that matter, don't mind.
      And those that mind, don't matter!

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      • #4
        It is the 31st today, I was honoured to get to the Ulster Grove on my recent trip to UK and pay my respects at cliffords tree. Not forgotten.
        Spanners do it with their tools.

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        • #5
          Rest in Peace mate.

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          • #6
            Rest in Peace young Gunner.
            You cannot fight a war with one hand tied behind your back.

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            • #7
              After reading about Clifford, in 'Lost Lives' abd from the words of Spanner, I was inspired to write this a few years ago.
              Clifford came of age on the ferry journey over from Liverpool to Belfast.


              Time


              He left his homeland’s shore a boy
              And came here as a man
              In time to start his man’s career
              With his comrades he would stand

              The flush of youth still glowing bright
              He was fed through the machine
              Processed, packaged, dressed and tasked
              Confused, bewildered, in a dream

              He came and went, there was hardly time,
              To even know his name;
              No sooner was he on the job
              Than he was in a gunman’s aim.

              Just enough time to be old enough
              Just time to draw his kit
              just in time, to go on stag
              just in time to be hit.

              We never got to know him then
              Was here, and then was gone
              His name now burned upon our hearts
              Another fallen son

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              • #8

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                • #9

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                  • #10
                    Sorry old son but I was on holiday on the anniversary of your passing so I called in earlier today on my way past:



                    Two bunches of fresh flowers show you aren't forgotten I'm happy to see. Until next time Clifford.
                    Visit tree 49/189 @ the NMA and say hello.

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                    • #11
                      Rest easy....your duty done.


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                      • #12
                        Today just before dawn I found myself at Helidon on the Warrego highway. I drove up the range road to Toowoomba and went to Picnic point to watch the sun rise. As I stood by the railings facing East, the first light of the coming dawn was bathing the underside of the distant cloud in a deep red that made it look like lava streams on some far volcano. The lockyer valley below was filled with cloud that hid the Homes and lesser hills from view. I hung my hat on a fence post, standing with just one stick in my left hand for support I saw the first deep red of the rising sun and saluted, holding it as the sun rose, remembering that it was 42 years since Clifford was pronounced dead. ( he would have turned 60 three days ago ) I replaced my cap, took my other stick and stepped back, an early morning walker, 40 something, commented on how beautiful the dawn was and I agreed, mentioning that I was here to remember those who were not here to see it, she asked if there was anyone in particular so I told here about Clifford dying so young and the circumstances of his passing. She said that it was good that we remembered still and that we all should remember those who did not come home, then she thanked me for sharing the memory with her and I thanked her for listening. We went our seperate ways, I felt that the trip up the mountain had been worthwhile and pondered the vagaries of life that made that person to be there just at that time to share a brief moment to remember Clifford and all those who fell in conflicts everywhere.
                        Never forgotten
                        Spanners do it with their tools.

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                        • #13
                          Absolutely beautifully written mate. So poetic and descriptive that it brought a tear to my old eye.
                          Tell me though Spanner - did you do the nasty with her?

                          (who knows exactly how to ruin a good moment)

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                          • #14
                            Someone hand me a stick. Admission, I had a tear in my eye when I was up the range and when I wrote the piece. ( p.s. ) NO, she was about the age of my daughter, mentally blocked.
                            Spanners do it with their tools.

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                            • #15
                              Thanks for that Spanner, I could see every part of that morning through your words.

                              DH - which eye were you talking about?

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