DAWN came early for the people of the Garvaghy Road. As the darkness began to lift, scores of police Land Rovers and Army Saracens swept into the Roman Catholic enclave. The nationalist warning siren sounded and the long-awaited Drumcree decision was disclosed: the Orangemen were coming through.
Residents from the estates poured out in a vain attempt to block the road. Royal Ulster Constabulary officers moved swiftly through, batons raised, clearing the bodies in their way.
"I-I-IRA," came the chant from the masked youths as rocks, bottles and petrol bombs rained down on the police and troops.
One woman staggered to the side of the road, blood pouring from a gash on her head.
"You've crucified this community year after year," she cried. "And now it's happening again."
By 6am, more than two hours after Operation Erinite began, the area had been sealed and an uneasy calm descended.
Riot police dressed in black overalls and balaclavas lay sprawled on the grass. Some slept, others played cards. One lay on his back reading a Bible.
Young soldiers stared impassively as a teenager set fire to a Union flag and screamed: "That's what we think of your Ulster."
Less than two miles away, the Orangemen were gathering outside their hall. "We've right on our side," said Trevor Quinn, 28, whose sash bore the legend: "Rising Sons of Portadown."
He added: "We can't be held to ransom by the gun. Sinn Fein orchestrated the protests. It was all part of the IRA game plan."
Shortly before 11am, the colour party stepped off and the Star of David accordion band played Thine be the Glory as the crowds lining the streets clapped and cheered.
"Safe home, Freddie," shouted one woman, dressed in her Sunday best and clutching her young son. "Hold your head up high."
Processing up the Corcrain Road towards Drumcree, the leader of the outlawed Loyalist Volunteer Force in the town, tattooed and wearing a Rangers shirt, nodded and waved as the marchers passed.
"There are no nationalist areas. Just areas temporarily occupied," read one placard beside a bonfire piled high in preparation for the Twelfth.
The sun shone as the parade reached Drumcree church, the scene of a five-day stand-off last year.
"The eyes of the world are on you at this time," said the Rev John Pickering over the public address system.
"We want to follow the path of peace and justice for all."
At 1pm, as the Orangemen filed out after their church service and took up position at the top of Drumcree Road, the Garvaghy residents began to gather once again.
Women and children banged bin lids and biscuit tins on the concrete. As the Orange standard turned onto the Garvaghy Road the jeers and whistles rang out. "Incoming," shouted one Orangeman, Second World War medals lining his chest, as a bottle flew over his head. "Eyes front and look out for the man in front."
Children made two-fingered gestures and a rebel song blasted out. "Orange fascists," shouted a teenage girl.
As the "King Billy" arch came into view and the last of the Irish tricolours was left behind, the drums started to beat. The faces of the Orangemen began to crease into smiles and their pace slowed. One waved an umbrella as his wife greeted him. Another lifted his bowler hat and wiped his brow.
The nationalist crowd chanted "No ceasefire now" as the troops began to withdraw. Lumps of concrete, stones and timber were heaved at the RUC.
"Keep calm, lads," shouted an NCO from the Cheshire Regiment as a piece of paving stone hit his visor, knocking the loud hailer from his face.
Masked figures, directed by a man in baseball cap and sunglasses, fired ballbearings from catapults as more masonry was pelted at the soldiers.
As the rioters advanced along the road behind metal grilles there was the familiar pop and thud of plastic bullets.
One man keeled over as he took the full force of a baton round in his stomach. Another stumbled and fell before getting up and launching a missile at the retreating vehicles. A petrol bomb hit the ground and burst into flames.
At the end of the road, a loyalist- beer can in hand - danced a victory jig. "Orange Order 3, Garvaghy Road 0," he crowed. Behind him, the vehicles burned.
