YOU COULDN'T GET WORDS TO DESCRIBE IT
"You wouldn't get words to describe it"
Fr. Jimmy Deeney, an SMA Priest based abroad for many years, is a native of Rathmuilan. Although based in South Africa, he returns home every other year on holiday. He had only been back in Ireland a matter of hours when he pulled a young man out of the River Liffey in Dublin last month. He figured, naturally, that that incident would be his abiding memory from his 98 vacation. All that changed last Saturday when he found himself caught up in the worst tragedy this island has ever endured in modern times. CIARAN O'DONNELL spoke to him.
It was just a normal Saturday afternoon. En route from the SMA Father's base at Drumintine near Newry in Co. Down to Rathmullan, Fr. Jimmy, for some reason, pulled in at Omagh. Felling peckish and in the form for a cuppa, he headed for the Royal Arms Hotel shortly after 3pm. Access to the well known hotel has been made much easier since the completion of the bypass around the town.
The large number of people sitting on the walls at the back of the hotel caught his eye. He figured that they were waiting on the parade to pass by. It was only upon meeting two RUC officers while proceeding through the alleyway that he learned that a bomb had been planted nearby. Having lived in Northern Ireland during the seventies and the nineties, bombs and bomb scares were not unfamiliar occurrences. He stood back for a short time waiting for the coast to dear. Then, no more than 100 yards away, the bomb which ripped Tyrone's most popular market town apart, leaving 28 dead and hundreds injured, went off. "Everything around me vibrated," he recalls.
Within seconds of the explosion, he joined the dozens of others lucky enough not to have caught the full force of the bomb, who ventured forward to ascertain what damage had been done. But it was only when he came on to the main street that the full extent of the devastation became clear. "Everybody was running. They had blood on their faces. There were people lying on the ground, some of them were crying and some were shouting names. I have one very vivid picture of a man shouting names and I met him in the hospital a lot afterwards. I later discovered that his wife and two children were missing. It turned out that his two children had survived although there were injured, but his wife was dead. "While I was attending someone a lady came over to me and said 'go down there and you'll see the slaughter. So I moved just a bit further down and found the bodies just lying on the ground. I counted seven. But the police had been there and had managed to cover them."'
With the water gushing out from the mains and swelling in and around the corpses, some swift action was necessary. Along with a few other bystanders, he began taking boards from the windows and used them as temporary stretchers as they were transferred to the pavement.
Along with a clerical colleague, Fr. Deeney headed immediately for the hospital using the back way.
"It just was utter consternation. You couldn't find words to describe it. In fairness to the services, while they are never prepared for a tragedy of that proportions, nevertheless they did have a system. Basically what they were trying to do was stabilise the injured and get them off by helicopter to the various hospitals in Belfast, Dungannon. Enniskillen and Derry."
With many of the injured being taken directly to other hospitals, it merely added to the already high level of confusion. The tension-filled atmosphere lasted well into the night. All concept of time had been lost. Fr. Deeney, like all the clerical representatives present, was quite happy to be at people's beck and call. A prayer would be shared here, and a loved one would be consoled there.
"Later in the night, we tried to help people who were distressed and looking for relatives. People were coming and and didn't know where to go," he says.
The mayhem which followed the bomb blast has left many snapshots embedded in the memory, but the most unforgettable moment of the whole ordeal was when he was with a man when he was told that his 21 month child was dead.
"He knew his wife had been transferred to the Royal. His child was missing and he was going around quite desperate with other members of his family. "The sight of a young girl, lying dead and coated in dust with the terrible expression of death on her face is another image which will be difficult to erase from the memory bank.
It was sometime after midnight when all priests and ministers were asked to report to the Omagh Leisure Centre from where things were going to be coordinated.
"The most painful thing for the people was the waiting. As somebody explained to me, while they were waiting for news, they were hoping they wouldn't get it. At around 3 a.m. everybody was called into the large hall and all the names of the people in the various hospitals were read out. A list was then posted up on the wall. A lot of people' were at least relieved to know where their family and friends were."
While the identification process was problematic in that it wasn't as quick as people would have preferred, the biggest fear the authorities had was that a wrong identification would be made.
Fr. Deeney stayed in the centre until 5am., grabbed a few hours sleep and returned around midday. Hope had gone for the families still waiting for news. One family came told him that a man could only be identified by the key of his car. Another young girl had had her whole face taken off. "During my time in Omagh I hardly used words. I was just with people. Words were just inadequate, you just couldn't get words to describe it. People couldn't even cry. I suppose my thoughts at this time are more centred around some sort of hope coming from all this. Hopefully, out of great tragedy, a great good will come. People said that Calvary was a great tragedy, yet out of that great tragedy came great goodness. The Lord never allows evil to win. In a strange way, he can bring good out of evil. Not that he wants evil, he never allows it to defeat."
He says that the entire episode hasn't really hit him yet, but certain flashbacks aren't letting him forget. On the surface, this Donegal priest whose humble nature and calming tones helped the needy in their most painful of hours, appears unscathed. But like so many others who were in such a sad place at a sad time, the scars, while not visible to the naked eye. exist
Only the sands of time will lessen the pain.
Fr. Jimmy Deeney, an SMA Priest based abroad for many years, is a native of Rathmuilan. Although based in South Africa, he returns home every other year on holiday. He had only been back in Ireland a matter of hours when he pulled a young man out of the River Liffey in Dublin last month. He figured, naturally, that that incident would be his abiding memory from his 98 vacation. All that changed last Saturday when he found himself caught up in the worst tragedy this island has ever endured in modern times. CIARAN O'DONNELL spoke to him.
It was just a normal Saturday afternoon. En route from the SMA Father's base at Drumintine near Newry in Co. Down to Rathmullan, Fr. Jimmy, for some reason, pulled in at Omagh. Felling peckish and in the form for a cuppa, he headed for the Royal Arms Hotel shortly after 3pm. Access to the well known hotel has been made much easier since the completion of the bypass around the town.
The large number of people sitting on the walls at the back of the hotel caught his eye. He figured that they were waiting on the parade to pass by. It was only upon meeting two RUC officers while proceeding through the alleyway that he learned that a bomb had been planted nearby. Having lived in Northern Ireland during the seventies and the nineties, bombs and bomb scares were not unfamiliar occurrences. He stood back for a short time waiting for the coast to dear. Then, no more than 100 yards away, the bomb which ripped Tyrone's most popular market town apart, leaving 28 dead and hundreds injured, went off. "Everything around me vibrated," he recalls.
Within seconds of the explosion, he joined the dozens of others lucky enough not to have caught the full force of the bomb, who ventured forward to ascertain what damage had been done. But it was only when he came on to the main street that the full extent of the devastation became clear. "Everybody was running. They had blood on their faces. There were people lying on the ground, some of them were crying and some were shouting names. I have one very vivid picture of a man shouting names and I met him in the hospital a lot afterwards. I later discovered that his wife and two children were missing. It turned out that his two children had survived although there were injured, but his wife was dead. "While I was attending someone a lady came over to me and said 'go down there and you'll see the slaughter. So I moved just a bit further down and found the bodies just lying on the ground. I counted seven. But the police had been there and had managed to cover them."'
With the water gushing out from the mains and swelling in and around the corpses, some swift action was necessary. Along with a few other bystanders, he began taking boards from the windows and used them as temporary stretchers as they were transferred to the pavement.
Along with a clerical colleague, Fr. Deeney headed immediately for the hospital using the back way.
"It just was utter consternation. You couldn't find words to describe it. In fairness to the services, while they are never prepared for a tragedy of that proportions, nevertheless they did have a system. Basically what they were trying to do was stabilise the injured and get them off by helicopter to the various hospitals in Belfast, Dungannon. Enniskillen and Derry."
With many of the injured being taken directly to other hospitals, it merely added to the already high level of confusion. The tension-filled atmosphere lasted well into the night. All concept of time had been lost. Fr. Deeney, like all the clerical representatives present, was quite happy to be at people's beck and call. A prayer would be shared here, and a loved one would be consoled there.
"Later in the night, we tried to help people who were distressed and looking for relatives. People were coming and and didn't know where to go," he says.
The mayhem which followed the bomb blast has left many snapshots embedded in the memory, but the most unforgettable moment of the whole ordeal was when he was with a man when he was told that his 21 month child was dead.
"He knew his wife had been transferred to the Royal. His child was missing and he was going around quite desperate with other members of his family. "The sight of a young girl, lying dead and coated in dust with the terrible expression of death on her face is another image which will be difficult to erase from the memory bank.
It was sometime after midnight when all priests and ministers were asked to report to the Omagh Leisure Centre from where things were going to be coordinated.
"The most painful thing for the people was the waiting. As somebody explained to me, while they were waiting for news, they were hoping they wouldn't get it. At around 3 a.m. everybody was called into the large hall and all the names of the people in the various hospitals were read out. A list was then posted up on the wall. A lot of people' were at least relieved to know where their family and friends were."
While the identification process was problematic in that it wasn't as quick as people would have preferred, the biggest fear the authorities had was that a wrong identification would be made.
Fr. Deeney stayed in the centre until 5am., grabbed a few hours sleep and returned around midday. Hope had gone for the families still waiting for news. One family came told him that a man could only be identified by the key of his car. Another young girl had had her whole face taken off. "During my time in Omagh I hardly used words. I was just with people. Words were just inadequate, you just couldn't get words to describe it. People couldn't even cry. I suppose my thoughts at this time are more centred around some sort of hope coming from all this. Hopefully, out of great tragedy, a great good will come. People said that Calvary was a great tragedy, yet out of that great tragedy came great goodness. The Lord never allows evil to win. In a strange way, he can bring good out of evil. Not that he wants evil, he never allows it to defeat."
He says that the entire episode hasn't really hit him yet, but certain flashbacks aren't letting him forget. On the surface, this Donegal priest whose humble nature and calming tones helped the needy in their most painful of hours, appears unscathed. But like so many others who were in such a sad place at a sad time, the scars, while not visible to the naked eye. exist
Only the sands of time will lessen the pain.
Further Information
Publisher: DONEGAL DEMOCRAT
Ref: DOD/011
Published Date: 20-Aug-98
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