In a thunderous rebuke to official silence, Britain’s most elite warriors — the SAS, SBS and SRR — have broken cover in an unprecedented show of unity, demanding an end to what they call a legal “witch-hunt” against veterans of the Northern Ireland conflict.

For decades, these shadowy professionals operated in silence and secrecy. But now, driven by what they see as betrayal from the political class, their voices are being raised in anger and in unison.

The spark? Labour’s stated intention to tear up the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Act, legislation designed to draw a line under the bloody legacy of the conflict, protect former soldiers from decades-old prosecutions, and instead promote reconciliation via an independent commission. The Act was introduced in 2023 by then-veterans minister Johnny Mercer, himself a former Army officer.

Labour, led by Sir Keir Starmer, has pledged to gut the Act, a move hailed by human rights lawyers but viewed by many veterans as a green light for renewed prosecutions long after the dust of combat has settled. Their concern is not hypothetical — it is deeply personal.

At the centre of the furore are twelve SAS soldiers, all veterans of Operation Banner, the UK’s decades-long military deployment in Northern Ireland. These men now face the prospect of murder charges over a 1992 operation in Clonoe, County Tyrone, where four armed IRA terrorists were shot dead during an ambush. The gunmen were wielding a Russian-designed DShK heavy machine gun and three Kalashnikovs — a fact seemingly ignored in a coroner’s ruling this February, which found the use of force by British troops “excessive”.

This ruling has triggered not just fury but action.

In a historic and coordinated move, the associations representing the Special Air Service, the Special Boat Service, and the Special Reconnaissance Regiment have written directly to the Chief of the Defence Staff, Admiral Sir Tony Radakin. Their letter — as stark as it is somber — demands immediate action to end what they describe as “lawfare” against those who served.

“This unified communication makes clear our collective position,” the letter reads. “A line must be drawn under the legacy matters arising from the conflict… The time has come to bring certainty, closure and fairness to this issue, not only for those who served but also for their families.”

It is the first time in history that the representatives of these three elite units have publicly confronted the head of the UK’s Armed Forces. The military community is rattled, and for good reason.

Sources close to the campaign confirm that even the current Director of Special Forces — a serving officer responsible for overseeing Britain’s most secretive operations across the globe — has added his voice to the protest in a rare and forceful letter expressing anger at the current political trajectory.

Former SAS commanding officers, defence experts, MPs and tens of thousands of ordinary Britons have joined the chorus of support.

Lieutenant Colonel Richard Williams, a former commanding officer of the SAS, minced no words in an interview with this newspaper. “The whole country should reflect on the contents of this important letter and the total lack of official response extremely seriously,” he said. “It outlines a crisis of trust in the military and political chain of command by those special forces engaged today in the most dangerous and sensitive of national security operations.”

His verdict on the Ministry of Defence’s silence? “Moral cowardice.”

Williams is far from alone. As the Mail’s Stop the SAS Betrayal campaign continues to gather steam, public support is pouring in. Over 165,000 people have already signed a petition demanding government action to shield veterans from repeated investigations. That figure is expected to climb further ahead of a major parliamentary debate scheduled for July 14.

Veterans now find themselves caught in a legal and political vice. The Belfast High Court has already ruled that aspects of the Legacy Act are incompatible with the European Convention on Human Rights, particularly the amnesty provisions. Starmer’s government has seized upon this as justification for repeal. But critics argue that a legal technicality is being used to justify an act of political expediency — and betrayal.

David Davis MP, a former SAS reservist and longstanding defender of veterans’ rights, is spearheading the political response alongside Conservative defence spokesman Mark Francois.

“Both the outgoing CDS, Admiral Sir Tony Radakin, and his successor, Air Chief Marshal Richard Knighton, have acknowledged the recruitment challenges facing our Armed Forces,” said Francois. “But who would sign up to serve a government that plainly doesn’t have the back of its own troops?”

That question is reverberating far beyond Westminster.

Among serving soldiers and veterans alike, there is growing apprehension that the military covenant — the long-standing moral agreement that those who serve will be looked after in return — is being shredded in public view.

Johnny Mercer, the architect of the Legacy Act and a staunch supporter of the campaign to protect veterans, has not held back. He described Labour MPs with a military background who support repealing the Act as “useful idiots” — parroting the slogans of human rights lawyers while ignoring the lived reality of men who made split-second decisions under fire.

Colonel Hamish de Bretton-Gordon, another respected voice in military circles, offered a starker warning. “Special Forces are the brightest jewel in the military crown. To lose any of their mercurial capabilities would make us less safe at home and abroad.”

It is no idle fear. Defence insiders have warned of a chilling effect on recruitment, especially among the elite ranks. Who, after all, would want to take the Queen’s shilling today only to face cross-examination in courtrooms 30 years hence?

The Ministry of Defence issued a guarded response, stating: “We consider that the findings and verdict [of the Clonoe incident] do not properly reflect the context of the incident nor the challenging circumstances in which members of the Armed Forces served in Northern Ireland.”

Officials also pointedly noted that the Legacy Act would have provided immunity not just to soldiers, but to terrorists — including those responsible for the Provisional IRA’s bombing campaign. In their view, the Act may have been flawed, but repealing it entirely leaves no protection at all.

For many in uniform, that grim realisation is fuelling a deepening sense of betrayal. The irony is as sharp as it is bitter: while convicted IRA bombers walk free under the terms of the Good Friday Agreement, British soldiers — whose actions were investigated and cleared at the time — face renewed jeopardy in retirement.

If Labour presses ahead with repealing the Legacy Act without providing alternative protections, it risks not just political fallout, but moral infamy.

The Special Forces’ message is unambiguous: enough is enough. The silent professionals have spoken. The question now is whether those in government will listen.

The author is a veteran of Operation Banner.

Main Image: BeenAroundAWhile at en.wikipedia