On the 50th anniversary of his death, Bernard Fox remembers a family man, a volunteer and a friend.
IN my lifetime I have lost many family, friends and comrades. I have attended too many funerals for comrades who were the best of human beings and not only a great loss to their families, but to Ireland as well.
Today is the 50th anniversary of a dear friend and comrade, Volunteer Brian Fox. Brian came from a well-known and respected republican family in Andersonstown. His parents, Anne and Gerry, were two decent, caring individuals who I got to know through Brian. I was made very welcome in their home in Benbradagh Gardens any time of the night or day and treated like one of the family.
When the IRA commenced its military campaign after the pogroms of 1969, Brian was married and living in Canada. It was only later I learned that while there he was working on behalf of the Movement. However, he longed to get home and be at the coalface of the struggle and it wasn’t long before he was back.
I first met Brian after I was released from internment in 1974 and we immediately struck up a good relationship as we went about our business. He made a great impression on me with his dedication, commitment and loyalty to the struggle. For a while, Brian was able to go about his Army business without too much ‘heat’ from the British forces. Having been in Canada, he was not immediately on their radar. All that was about to change.
One day Brian and I were travelling together in his car and we were stopped on the Monagh Road by the British Army (the Black Watch, I think). Brian handed over his driving licence. Unbeknownst to me it said ‘Bernard Fox’ on his licence because while Brian and I weren’t related, we were born with the same name, although all his life he went by the name Brian. The Brit said to him: “Are you the bastard just out of the Maze?” So they got out a montage of photos and as they looked at them one of them looked at me and asked me my name. That was Brian blown as a ‘clean’ volunteer. And for the record, we got the usual treatment for hours in Fort Monagh. Brian was now a known volunteer, but this didn’t deter him from going about his Army work and at meetings Brian’s hand was always first up: “I’ll do that.” It was a sign of his remarkable commitment and bravery.
A portrait of Brian Fox painted in the Cages by Anthony Bell, whose portrait of Martin McGuinness hangs in Stormont
1974 was a very tough year for the Army. So much was going on: the unionist stoppage: the MRF (later to become FRU) had been set loose in republican areas; internment was still in full swing; the Army were losing a lot of men and women to gaol. In politics there were two British general elections in quick succession which give us the fledgling ‘Criminalisation’, ‘Ulsterisation’ and ‘Normalisation’ policies of a British Labour government through Merlyn Rees and then Roy Mason. A strategy was introduced to end internment and build the H-Blocks.
But during that tough year, Brian never wavered. Through his character and actions he gained the respect and comradeship of all around him. Unfortunately, I didn’t last long on the outside and was soon interned again and back in Long Kesh.
A few days before Christmas 1974 I was walking around the Cage and I saw the Monk, Father Joachim, arrive. He was from the monastery in Portglenone and periodically came to visit us. He was always good craic. But as he approached me I saw by his face he was sad and grim. I immediately thought of my family and prepared myself for bad news. It was indeed bad news, but not concerning my family. Fr Joachim told me Brian had died as the result of an accident while on active service in England. It happened on December 21, 1974.
Such a great loss, first and foremost for his wife and family, but also for the struggle and for Ireland.
Like so many, Brian, you answered the call, whether in Canada, Ireland or England, and you gave it your all.
We have a son who was proudly named Brian in your honour. I salute you, comrade. You are never far from my thoughts.
