The awful events in Nice on Thursday night prove, if anyone ever doubted it, the truly heroic effort it must have been for France to keep the Euro 2016 tournament safe.
As with all successful operations, we will now never know what, if anything, the countless bag searches, pat-downs, and general surveillance prevented. Sadly, we do know that, unlike the many thousands of fans who made it there and back unharmed, the French people, and those who protect them, could not afford to relax afterwards.
Among the many impressive things about the tournament’s security was that it never became overbearing or bad-tempered. Except when dealing with the few actual riots, even the overstretched police retained a light touch.
Their relationship with Irish fans became immortalised by the scene in a Bordeaux road tunnel wherein supporters adapted their “Boys in Green” anthem to pay tribute to the boys (and girls) in blue, while at least one of the latter, in the same musical spirit and further adapting the lyrics, implored them to move along.
But amid all the mutual good humour, the Irish supporters did present challenges to their minders. In the wake of Nice, the memory goes back again to those extraordinary scenes in Paris on the nights before and after the Sweden game, when thousands converged outside a trio of Irish pubs near the Moulin Rouge to drink and sing into the early hours.
One of those evenings, I met friends from home who had so far avoided the Eiffel Tower fan-zone because they were nervous about its safety. Amused at their misplaced concern, I pointed out that entry to the fan-zone was via at least two body-and-bag searches, with a wide cordon sanitaire in between.
By contrast, the crowds at Pigalle were not subject to any searches, only to the worried gaze of a handful of police officers detailed to watch them from either end of the street.
At the time, it was gun and bomb attacks we feared. The idea of somebody just driving a truck into a crowd was unimaginable; although, looking back, the police car that tended to be parked across the street at either end was a barricade of sorts.
But after Nice, a memory of a small incident in Pigalle that seemed funny at the time has taken on a poignant note. It was during one of the nightly parties, when somebody was playing music on a speaker.
A classic by Aslan came on and soon everyone within earshot had joined in with its soaring chorus. No joke was intended, I’m sure. But in any case, the uniformed guardians continued to supervise, as nervously as ever, while the crowd sang, “How can I protect you in this crazy world?”
Guests
There were boys in green – both literally and metaphorically – at the official Bastille Day party in Dublin, an entirely happy occasion, starting and finishing as it did before the terrible news from Nice broke.
Among the guests at the French ambassador’s residence were the same Irish supporters (back in civvies) who had received the Medal of Paris for their contribution to the Euros. But there were also green uniforms on display, ranging from the olive shades of first World War soldiers to the emerald of Napoleon’s Irish Legion, all worn by military re-enactors.
The main theme of the night was republicanism, as a shared Franco-Hibernian ideal. So the link between 1789 and 1798 was celebrated, as was the 1916 centenary. And the ceremonies also included the formal promotion of a Mayo oak tree to the title "Arbre de la Liberté".
The latter concept dates from the French Revolution (which borrowed it from pre-independence Boston), when “Liberty Trees” were planted widely. Like the American original, they became battlegrounds in themselves. Monarchists would occasionally fell them – and were sometimes felled in reprisal – but many still stand.
The Légion irlandaise, by contrast, is long gone; its activities were wound up around the same time as Napoleon's. But you can still see some souvenirs of it in the great military exhibition at Collins Barracks in Dublin.
And while there, I am glad to say, you can also now again visit the fine park nearby, which was itself liberated again recently, after wallowing for years behind locked gates. That park too is, in its own tragic way, a tribute to Franco-Irish relations. Indeed its name refers to a time when mutual sympathy between the countries extended even to sharing hairstyles. In case you’re not familiar with the area, I refer of course to the “Croppies Acre”.