Land Rover: The Story of the Car that Conquered the World. Ben Fogle

still relies on upwards of 400 armoured Land Rovers to police Northern Ireland.

      From the largely Protestant East Belfast we drive through the centre of the city, which is a hive of business activity. The armoured Land Rover takes a hard right as we leave the main road and drive down a tiny cul-de-sac – and it is as if I have arrived on a different planet.

      Two neat rows of detached houses are festooned with red, white and blue. There is Union bunting above the streets and the houses are covered in Union Jacks of every size and shape. Even in the greatest shows of nationalistic pride in England I have never seen such a display of patriotism. Behind the houses, though, looms a towering twenty-foot wall to prevent missiles being hurled by the Loyalist and Republican neighbours at one another.

      We leave the red, white and blue for the Republican green, and soon we are cruising down two of Belfast’s most notorious roads: Shankill and Falls. The largely loyalist Shankill Road runs parallel to the largely nationalist Falls Road, and the area has seen numerous flash points over the years.

      ‘Has anyone on board been caught up in a riot here?’ I ask the crew. There is laughter. ‘Too many times to recall,’ the driver answers.

      The Land Rover Pangolin is a car that has been adapted exclusively for the streets of Belfast, which needed an agile, tough vehicle with easy manoeuvrability that could be heavily armoured against ballistics and petrol bombs. Working in teams of five vehicles, the Tangi and Pangolin Land Rovers helped control the Troubles when they were at their peak with their ability to get into the midst of riots and civil unrest and allow police officers to control the situation from within.

      While the level of terrorism in Northern Ireland may have fallen, ‘recreational rioting’ is still very much a unique phenomenon in Belfast, particularly in the summer months, during the ‘marching season’.

      Chief Inspector of the Tactical Support Group, Garrath McCreery, explains, ‘Our Land Rovers have come under live fire and attack from improvised explosive devices, petrol bombs, paint bombs and an array of missiles. They have on occasions been attacked with sledgehammers and crowbars, and last year a home-made rocket-propelled grenade was fired at one of our vehicles. The crew was fortunate because the device didn’t detonate on impact. An automatic rifle was also used to attack one of our Land Rovers.’

      The Pangolin is brimming with kit. There are riot shields, weapons, truncheons, fire extinguishers. The exterior is fitted with CCTV cameras so that the driver can see behind the armoured back door. Fortunately for the crew, a quirk of the weight of the armour means the Land Rovers are almost impossible to be pushed over by rioters.

      The image of the car is certainly at odds with the ‘peace’ of Northern Ireland. As we wind our way through the peaceful-looking streets of Belfast, the Pangolin is a reminder that for many this is still a place of conflict. The crew are very aware of their environment. They are ready for anything. Eyes scan the streets. There is an uneasy feeling. I wonder if it is real or imagined.

      We are on an active anti-terror patrol. What is sobering is that the would-be terrorists are not fanatical Islamic State thugs but home-grown activists intent on disrupting the peace process. The conflict lies between the two opposing communities: the Loyalists and the Republicans.

      A large wall was erected between the two communities which is now nearly twenty feet tall and is referred to as the ‘peace wall’. Several gates within it are controlled remotely, allowing the police to close off the two roads, which they do every evening at around 9pm.

      ‘Kids often come along and block them with obstructions, then when we turn up to clear the debris, we sometimes come under attack,’ one of the officers tells me.

      The walls are covered in murals from each side; the largely Catholic nationalists, or Republicans, have large murals of Gerry Adams and more intriguingly have now compared themselves to the PLO and Gaza, while around the corner are the Union flag-festooned murals of the largely Protestant Unionists, or Loyalists, intent on remaining within the British Union. Unusually, the Unionists have taken sides with Israel, and there are plenty of Israeli flags alongside Union flags in the city.