Emmett Farrell recalls Bloody Sunday: 'The British Army propaganda machine went into action'

That night, December 4, the UVF exploded a bomb in McGurk’s Bar in Belfast, killing 15 people, which was all anyone was talking about, obviously enough. There was real tension when British soldiers came on the bus at the border crossing the next day, and before the match even started in the Brandywell a full-scale battle was in progress outside.

Around the Lonemoor Road and the adjoining Bogside young people pelted RUC and British soldiers with stones and petrol bombs, and the soldiers replied with rubber bullets. When we were in the ground it was just noise outside, really, but we were well aware of it.

The game itself went ahead - 13-a-side game because of the soccer pitch - and Derry won well. Afterwards I remember getting a rubber bullet as a souvenir for 10 shillings while Derry GAA official Tommy Mellon asked one of the players why he hadn’t used his influence in the area, saying: "The crowd was smaller than I expected, I thought Martin had put out the word ‘No throwing stones today, the brother is playing with Derry."

The player was Tom McGuinness, Derry midfielder, brother of Martin McGuinness. Before we headed off for home a return game was fixed for Sunday, January 30, 1972 in Tuam Stadium.

We beat Derry by a point that Sunday in a very low-scoring game before heading to the Imperial Hotel in the Square for a post-match meal.

As we walked into the hotel the RTÉ news came on the TV: "Six people were shot dead at the civil rights march in Derry today..."

There was bedlam - the Derry players who had family and friends on the march ran for the phone, but the hotel had one phone plus a public coinbox - no mobiles then. In the pandemonium, the Derry party decided to leave immediately and didn’t even wait for the meal.

There was no shortage of rumours immediately. The British Army propaganda machine went into action claiming shots had been fired at them, that nail bombs were found on the dead and explosive residues on the clothing of injured and dead.

Soldiers at Mellows Barracks in Galway who were Derry natives were said to have deserted with their rifles and were hitching to Derry.

There was huge shock and disbelief, with more and more anger as the truth of the savagery was revealed.

The Galway University Republican Club organised a bus to the funerals and though not a student, I got a seat on the bus.

The temperature was still below freezing as the bus left Galway before dawn. The bus drove north through a silent country – everything was closed. We got to the border on the St Johnston road into Derry and had to walk the last few miles.

The city of Derry was packed. We didn’t get into the church, but what I remember were the open graves in the cemetery, the very heavy rain, and the absolute grief of the people, obviously enough, as they went into the cemetery.

Afterwards we broke into small groups, trying to find somewhere in Derry for a cup of tea, and our group was luckier than most. We bumped into a group of three men on the street: I recognised Sean O’Connell, who had been full-forward on the Derry team which played against Galway in Tuam the previous Sunday and with him was Charlie Gallagher, the former Cavan footballer and Derry hurler Liam Hinphey.

They were impressed that we had come to the funerals in solidarity and we discussed the events since Sunday and what might happen next.

I asked if they could point us to a café or restaurant, but Charlie Gallagher said: "There’s nothing open on this side of the Foyle but you’re coming home with me and you’ll be fed and watered there and I’ll leave ye back to the bus."

He was as good as his word, but inevitably, the bus had left when we were dropped off by Gallagher at the rendezvous.

"No problem," said Gallagher. "We’ll catch up with it at Stranorlar."

When we did, the UCG bus organiser was furious - and hungry, as he and the other travellers hadn’t had a bite since the previous evening.

"Well, ye’ll not leave Ballybofey hungry," said Gallagher, who proceeded to knock up Jackson’s Hotel where he said he’d had many a good meal after matches.

When he explained that the travellers had come up from Galway to the funerals in Derry and hadn’t eaten all day, owner Barry Jackson called in his staff and within a short time the whole party was sitting down to steak and chips.

It was a desperately sad day, but also one when I realised the significance of the GAA both north and south of the border.