This is Murlough House. It played a dramatic role in Huttonian's life when he was a young soldier preparing for the Suez campaign and stationed at Ballykinlar camp across Dundrum Bay from Murlough. One day when I was conducting live firing with my platoon we got the order to stop immediately as the Chatelaine of Murlough House had telephoned to say that a bullet had hit her house just missing her butler who had been making Strawberry Jam (This was the warm summer of 1956)As a young platoon commander I was in deep ordure. No one else was firing at the time and although our line of fire was into a massive sandhill and beyond it the open sea some 90 Degrees East of MH it must have been one of 'my' soldiers who had done it-and me being 2/LT ic platoon-I was entirely responsible in army logic of that time

I was hauled in front of a court of enquiry (leading to a court martial if I was found to be responsible) and in the absence of any other factors it looked black for this military rising star.Cashiered-ie dismissed the military would have been the likely outcome for an officer' 'incapable of controlling his men and unsuitable for holding the Queens Commission' Or words to that effect. Miraculously one of the Court was not happy with the idea of bullets flying off at 90 degrees over a very high sand dune, then finding its way through 50 yards of thick trees and then done a sharp drop into the Marchioness's semi basement kitchen. So he carried out his own investigation and found two interesting things:one-the bullet embedded in the kitchen wall was a .22 and not an army standard .303: two: from the hole in the window and lining it up with the bullet in the wall it was clear that the round had been fired from the garden. At point blank range. Huttonian or any one under his command clearly not the culprit

It transpired that the Good Lady or some one under her control, anxious to get rid of the licentous soldiery and their irritating noises off had indeed done the deed. Much later a couple of drunken Jocks from a Scottish regiment fired a machine gun through her front door-just for 'a wee bit of fun'

She sold the house to the Church of Ireland for a rest home for traumatised clergy and it is now the seat of a way out sect. Apparently

The other image is of the firing control centre just across the mouth of the bay. Here you are supposed to take care during live firing indicated by, er, sounds of shots, and the flying of red flags. I don't know how you are supposed to do that-like taking your hat off at the sign which says 'Beware Low Flying Aircraft'

Me, if I hear a loud bang.

I duck.  ¶ 12:57 PM