Smashing London's Face

Almost as often as the wars of Ireland have erupted and receded in tidal flows of violence over the past century, so has one particular fantasy recurred to strategists of the Irish Republican Army: to smash the cool, imperious face of London, the symbol of everything that frustrated their dreams.

In the 1880s, the Fenian movement boldly bombed the House of Commons. In 1903 the Irish waged another bombing campaign, and again, in 1939, they went on a 15-month spree of dynamiting elegant shops, theaters, mailboxes and railway cloakrooms. Joseph Conrad's protagonist in The Secret Agent schemed to blow up the Greenwich Observatory, just as the hero of a novel recently published in London, The Patriot Game, plans to blast the headquarters of the British secret service.

Last week the electorate of Northern Ireland was asked to vote on whether it wanted to remain part of the Unitted Kingdom. The result was inevitable --almost 99% voted yes since Ulster's population is two-thirds Protestant, and since many Catholics had decided to boycott the,British government's referendum. On that very day, Irish extremists made themselves heard in another way--once again bringing the violence to London.

The first "Belfast Special"--a car loaded with 175 Ibs. of gelignite time bombs--destroyed the back of the Old Bailey court building and its year-old $17 million annex and wrecked a three-story hotel and pub across the street. An hour later, 1 1/2 miles to the west, a second car exploded in Whitehall, badly damaging the Ministry of Agriculture and the main army recruiting center. Whole walls were stripped of windows, the frames twisted and buckled. The two blasts injured 194 people, including five policemen, but miraculously caused only one death. The victim was a 60-year-old caretaker who was treated for head wounds and was returning home when he suffered a heart attack.

Throughout the rest of the day, squad cars and ambulances chased through the city, evacuating buildings and trying to deal with a rash of hoaxes; the rumored targets included Windsor Castle and the Royal Opera House. Police blocked off Trafalgar Square for several hours and, taking no chances, exploded four locked suitcases that were found on the steps of the National Gallery; the suitcases, as it turned out, contained old clothing.

The explosions brought out the city's best blitz spirit. Medical workers suspended their strike and returned to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, which treated most of the casualties.

"Well, it's one way to go free," reflected one man, grinning despite a swollen lip, a cut nose and two loosened teeth. At the time of the explosion, he had been on trial at the Old Bailey for receiving stolen goods. He added: "Maybe they'll give me good conduct for this."

Most I.R.A. leaders in recent years have strongly opposed the opening of a new campaign of terror in London. The rebels are far more isolated there than they are in Northern Ireland, and the damage they can cause is not so great. Last year's I.R.A. attack on a paratrooper base at Aldershot, 35 miles from London, backfired humiliatingly; of the seven people killed when a bomb went off in a mess hall, all were civilians, five were women and one was a Catholic priest. Both bombers were caught and convicted. Last week's terrorists seemed to fare no better. Within hours, seven men and three women were arrested at London airport as they tried to board planes for Belfast and Dublin.

Almost forgotten in the turmoil was the referendum in Northern Ireland, which for once seemed almost tranquil in comparison with London. Ulster managed to get through its first polling day in seven years with only eleven explosions, two people injured, and one soldier killed by a sniper.

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