Bloodier Friday in the South

The day was somewhat gray. But it was spring, and the crowds of Dubliners bustling homeward at 5:30 p.m. last Friday were looking forward to a fine Irish weekend. What 23 of them got instead was sudden death as three powerful bombs exploded in the center of the capital. Another 137 were wounded, many critically. It was the worst disaster in the history of the Republic and a far bloodier Friday than the infamous "Bloody Friday" of July 21, 1972, when nine were killed and 130 injured in a series of bombings in Belfast. The hatred of Ulster, where more than 1,000 have died in sectarian fighting since 1969, appeared to have flooded the Irish Republic with a vengeance.

Last week's bombs, made of 200-250 lbs. of gelignite, had been packed into three cars parked at curbs. They had been timed to explode at a peak rush hour, and there was no doubt that they were clearly meant to kill as many as possible. The force of the blasts hurled bodies through glass storefronts and left others grotesquely fused or mutilated. Limbs lay scattered about. One dead woman was found with parts of a car engine embedded in her back. Another victim, his leg twisted and bleeding, lay pleading, "I'm Tom O'Reilly. Help me. I'm not ready to die." Police wept as they helped the injured to ambulances. As of Saturday morning, ten of the dead --including two baby girls--were still unidentified.

Reaction ranged from shock to bitterness to a weary sense of fatalism within governments on both sides of the border. Ireland's Prime Minister Liam Cosgrave said the outrage would "strengthen the resolve of those north and south working for peace." Privately, ministers of his government were deeply troubled by the prospect of unreasoned, violent passions invading the south. At week's end they were still struggling to understand who had done it and why.

Protestants Suspected. The terrorist Provisional wing of the outlawed Irish Republican Army denied responsibility for the atrocity. So did the extremist Protestant Ulster Defense Association, although a U.D.A. spokesman said, "I am very happy about the bombings." Most of the skimpy evidence suggested that the bombs had been planted by Protestant firebrands. The cars containing the explosives had apparently disappeared from Protestant neighborhoods of Belfast. More significantly, Protestant extremists have seemed unusually nervous about recent agreements reached between Ireland, Ulster and Britain, which they fear are the first steps toward union with the Catholic south.

One of the ugliest aspects of the bombing was that there had been no advance warning. Before the day was over, however, this had already become a less unusual characteristic of terror in Ireland. Outside a bar in the small border town of Monaghan, 80 miles north of Dublin, another bomb exploded without notice. At least five people were killed outright and 20 more wounded, most of them critically.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.