But for the priest, Edward Daly, life has never been the same again, and he often deeply regrets being caught on film.Today, Fr Daly is sitting in the study of his diocesan home in Londonderry He is now 68, and a retired Bishop of Derry. The 1970s sideburns are gone, and the dark hair has turned a soft white. In the corner of the room is an photo frame with a mount discoloured by time. It holds a black-and-white photograph of a young boxer holding his gloved hands under his chin. It is Jackie Duddy, the 17-year-old factory weaver Fr Daly was desperately trying to get to hospital that day, but who died before he got there The picture was given to him by the teenager’s family “I’ve had the picture on my desk or near my desk ever since. I feel an affinity to Jackie,” says Fr Daly, a gentle, softly-spoken man.Then a curate, Fr Daly was in the Bogside that Sunday to comfort the elderly, as he did every march, as they routinely led to rioting and the discharge of rubber bullets and CS gas by the Army.

That day’s protest was one of a series organised by the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association. As Fr Daly ran with the crowd away from the advancing paratroopers, drafted in to bolster the Army, he saw a young man – Duddy – suddenly fall beside him He assumed the lad had been hit by a rubber bullet. It was, in fact, the start of live firing.”I took cover behind a low wall and observed the situation, and after the gunfire had died down I grabbed out to him and realised he must have been shot and tried to revive him,” remembers Fr Daly, who placed his handkerchief inside the boy’s shirt to stem the flow of blood. “I realised that he was very seriously injured so I gave him the last rites and some others came out and helped with him.

We were in open ground so we made a dash for it and that’s when the television cameras caught us.”I was scared out of my wits. There was gunfire, but one felt there was something you had to do and you just did it If you paused to think you wouldn’t have moved, you know. After we got Jackie out I went back into the area and there was quite a number of dead and injured people, so I administered the last rites to quite a number. I was stunned and very angry.”Fr Daly was equally stunned when he later found that he couldn’t leave home without being approached “It changed my life completely. I lost my anonymity – it was dreadful, dreadful,” he says.