by Meda Ryan
On the same day in Dublin, in simultaneous predawn raids, Michael Collins’ men killed 11 British intelligence agents. In retaliation the Black and Tans invaded a football match at Croke Park that afternoon and fired indiscriminately at the teams and at an estimated 7,000 spectators, killing 12 civilians including one player, Michael Hogan, and wounding 60. This day became known as Bloody Sunday.
Barry returned from the meeting to the training camp (Farrell’s and Kelly’s) at Clogher, north-west of Dunmanway. At this time, 150 ‘C’ Company Auxiliaries were stationed at Macroom Castle. They were recruited to break the IRA’s force and squash Ireland’s resistance to British rule. Harassing people in Ballingeary after Sunday Mass was a game for ‘the Castle Auxies. Every neighbour in the district had been raided. They broke furniture, pulled men, women and children from their beds at all hours of the night, made wrecks of houses and brought misery … A bad lot!’[21]
‘They had a special technique’, Tom Barry wrote. ‘Fast lorries of them would come roaring into a village, the occupants would jump out, firing shots and ordering all the inhabitants out of doors’.[22]After house raids, people were beaten up, men stripped and beaten in front of women – their deeds of terrorism were numerous. At certain times they concentrated on raiding south into the West Cork brigade area.[23]
One of their ‘great games’ was to drive through the country, stop the lorry, take ‘pot shots’ to scatter up earth beside a man working in the field. This would be followed by great laughter as the man ran for cover. This happened to Richard Coughlan on a few occasions and he was ‘lucky’ to escape. ‘Their bullets injured many innocent people’.[24]Two soldiers at a gate took ‘pot shots‘ at William Hawkes who worked in a field with his father. He ran, jumped over the fence. After the third shot he fell. ‘The young man was maimed for life; his leg had to be amputated at the hip.’[25]Micheál Ó Súilleabháin knew that the ‘marauding’ Auxiliaries in Macroom Castle ‘were a tough crowd … I had plenty of experience of their physical fitness when I had to run from them on several occasions.’ While working in a haggard one day he feared for his life. ‘If a man ran and was seen running, he was shot down. He could possibly be shot too for standing still. That was the order of the day. Nobody doubted it.’[26]Mick Sullivan recalled ‘a clear frosty’ morning around ‘a quarter to eight’ when ‘four hostages’ were made run in front of a lorry of Macroom Auxies. Major Graw and his officers fired shots as if ‘looking for a direct line of fire and missing the lads ... I never heard anything like the screams for the air was all clear ... the Auxiliaries were terrorising the countryside.’[27]Lieut Col S. F. Smyth, divisional commander RIC Munster, issued an order on 17 June 1920 that ‘a policeman is perfectly justified in shooting any man who he has good reason to believe is carrying arms and who does not immediately throw up his hands when ordered’.[28]On 1 November 1920 one of the Macroom Castle Auxiliaries entered a house in Ballyvourney village ‘called out a married man named Jim Lehane, a man who would not hurt a fly’. He took this ‘innocent civilian’ across the road and ‘shot him dead.’ The Auxiliary was Cadet Cecil Guthrie. That night as he drank in a local pub he boasted that he ‘got the bastard’ and that it was ‘one way of teaching’ them manners. The local intelligence unit was informed.
Nine days later Christy Lucey a Volunteer from Cork City, staying with friends in Ballingeary, was unarmed when the Macroom Auxies shot him dead. The Auxies met the local curate Fr Donncha Ó Donnchú and ‘gleefully roared, “There’s work for you back there!”’[29]
Back in August 1920 Liam Deasy had been one of the officers from country areas to attend a GHQ meeting in Dublin where Richard Mulcahy C/S and Michael Collins D/I were present. The ‘two main items for decision’ were (a) ‘the principle of ambushing …’ (b) ‘How to deal with the new problem created by the introduction of the Auxiliaries into the country, a strong force of whom had taken up quarters in the town of Macroom …’[30]
Col Buxton Smyth, commander ‘C’ Company Auxiliaries in Macroom Castle found it hard to hold and control his men. ‘Within the first few months 25 men left this company,’ he told Katherine Everett. ‘They had no room for exercise. They can’t walk a yard or go into a shop without danger, and they are savage for revenge’.[31]
General Crozier who commanded the ‘Auxies’ in Ireland struggled to maintain some sort of discipline in the force and wrote in his book Ireland Forever:
Up to November 1, 1920, I had ‘dismissed’ or ‘dispensed’ with the services of over fifty Auxiliary policemen (ex-officers) for various acts of indiscipline, but after that date a heavy and hidden hand came down. My powers of dismissal and dispersal were taken from me. Why? I had to wait a few months to find out. ‘They’ feared a kick-back from England caused by ‘talk’ on the part of the ‘kicked-out’. Later ‘they’ got the ‘kick’ in return.[32]
In mid-November the British government ‘decided to arrest and intern all rebels known to be IRA officers, or to be engaged in the perpetration of serious outrages. Very large numbers were secured at the first onslaught … a considerable part of the work of intelligence officers from this time onwards consisted in collecting evidence.’[33]
The raids had a serious effect on the morale of the people; also they dampened the spirits of IRA members. Tom Barry decided that he and his 36 trained rifle-men at Clogher camp, who ‘appeared to be splendid natural fighters’, would take on the most dreaded enemy force in their area. This unit was new to military training – apart from three men who had previously attended a training camp and one had fought in Toureen – and was about to fight as a team.
Military raiding parties interrupted the training on three occasions. Twice the men were almost forced to take on the enemy. However, Barry had a definite objective for the following Sunday and would not be diverted. He and his men were going to take on the enemy on their own terms, choose their own battleground and avoid confrontation if unprepared for ambush. From the outset, he decided that military discipline of this guerrilla army was paramount. He divided them into three sections and appointed a commander to each.[34]
Liam Deasy and Charlie Hurley having visited the training camp were aware that ‘Tom Barry was planning to ambush the Macroom Auxiliaries who were making incursions’ into Cork No. 3 Brigade area[35]
On Friday of that week, accompanied by Michael McCarthy, Tom went on horseback to select an ambush position. The spot was carefully chosen and mapped out – a desolate hill, bog and heather covered area south of Kilmichael. Two or three Crossley tenders, each carrying about 10 Auxiliaries from Macroom, travelled down this road daily as they went on their rampage in various directions throughout the Third West Cork Brigade area. The area chosen for the ambush was outside the brigade boundary. Barry said ‘we were no respecters of borders, and had crossed out on many occasions. Toureen and Kilmichael fights were fought ... inside the boundaries of Cork No. 1 Brigade’. Liam Deasy records the value of ‘the co-operation we received at all times’ from Cork No. 1 Brigade.[36]Co-ordination between brigades was essential for harmony ‘as enemy pressure became more and more insistent during the course of 1920 – in the south and south-west more particularly – adjoining brigades made tentative efforts at liaison with one another.’ Crossbarry and Kilmurry Company ‘co-operated closely with the Third Brigade throughout 1920– 21.’[37] Seán MacCárthaigh, as intelligence officer and area ‘IRB centre’ brought ‘written and verbal dispatches from Cork No. 1 to Cork No. 3 H. Qrs’ each Friday evening. Josephine Marchmount – confidential secretary to staff officer Captain Webb who was chief officer to Major Strickland – was an invaluable intelligence agent. Josephine and Nora Wallace worked in tandem. Nora in her shop in St Augustine Street became the keeper of a police cipher key and with their contacts in Cork city post office ‘Wire messages’ were regularly decoded and kept Florrie O’Donoghue and his intelligence team ‘a step ahead’ of their enemies. Intelligence work done by both Josephine and Nora went undetected throughout the war and was r
egarded by O’Donoghue as of equivalent value ‘to a strong column of men’.[38]
Barry and Michael McCarthy travelled on horseback to the Kilmichael/Shanacashel area on Friday evening, 26 November, and decided on an ambush site. ‘We were the only two people who knew, up to late Saturday night, where we hoped to fight on Sunday.’ Conscious of the terrain Barry decided that the Auxiliaries had to be apprehended in the stretch of road between Kilmichael and Gleann crossroads. He felt they could not engage the enemy nearer to Macroom, as reinforcements would arrive quickly from base. Beyond Gleann crossroads the Auxiliaries had previously diverged in different directions, so ‘they had to be got before they reached that cross.’[39]
An idea for slowing down the travelling lorries came to him when he saw Paddy O’Brien in an IRA officer’s tunic. The Auxies wouldn’t have seen this uniform before and if Barry wore it and stood in view they might slow down to investigate. He exchanged his civilian coat for O’Brien’s uniform for the forthcoming engagement.
At 2 a.m. on the morning of 28 November 1920, the column met in a farmyard at Ahilane, Enniskeane. Each of the 36 men was armed with a rifle and 36 rounds of ammunition per man, a few had revolvers and Barry also carried two Mills bombs, captured at Toureen. At 3 a.m the men were told that the attack would be on the Macroom Auxiliaries. Fr O’Connell came on horse-back from Enniskeane to hear the men’s confessions. There was every possibility that all these men, including Barry, would be dead within twenty-four hours. Beside a ditch, ‘silently, one by one, their rifles slung, the IRA men went to him and returned to the ranks.’
Then the priest said, ‘Are the boys going to attack the Sassanach, Tom?’
‘Yes, Father, we hope so.’
The priest raised his voice, ‘Good luck, boys! I know you will win. God keep ye all! Now I will give you my blessing.’
The men all knelt for the blessing. Then the priest mounted his horse and rode into the darkness.[40]
The men set out for the long cross-country march against the lashing rain. Soon every man was drenched, but silently continued to march. It was a cold, black, miserable November night.
Pat Deasy, a young Volunteer, who had been ill for a few days previously followed the column at a distance. A few miles before they reached Kilmichael during a rest halt he made his presence known. Flyer Nyhan brought him to Barry. He pleaded that he be allowed fight and was difficult to resist, so Barry relented. Due to shortage of guns his substitute was sent home.
Around 8.15 a.m. the flying column reached the ambush position. The men had trudged through the bitter night against the lashing rain. They were cold, hungry and drenched wet. Military tactics were needed. ‘In true Barry fashion he told us it would be a fight until the end; either we wiped them out or they wiped us out. But he said, “We’ll wipe them out. We’ll smash the bloody fellows. Today will be an important day, not only for you, for West Cork but for Ireland’’.’[41]
Barry knew that most of these men had a story to tell. Jack Hennessy’s parents’ home was raided by the RIC on 10 July 1920. Jack was beaten and their home was burned to the ground. Ned Young’s parents were active in politics, his father though an elderly man was arrested and was regularly exhibited as a hostage in the Auxiliary lorries while out on raids, to prevent being fired upon.[42] In October the Black and Tans had come to John Lordan’s home to arrest his father and uncle – ‘wanted’ for their support of the Republican cause. They were not there so the enemy burned their house.[43] When John heard that the column was seeking action, he tossed a coin with Dan Canty and won the toss for the one rifle they had between them. Barry gladly placed him in No. 2 section.[44]
Much precision went into Barry’s plan. ‘He was quick to size things up! So quick, sharp, a soldier to his fingertips!’[45]During training he had learned of each man’s ability and thought about where individuals should be posted. Sections were rehearsed so that each man knew where his comrades were positioned. Barry’s military experience, discipline and training taught him the value of a positive approach. His instructions on the plan of attack and the positions the men were to occupy allowed for no retreat. In this bleak, desolate spot of stone, bog land and heather Barry and his men would be so close to their enemy that they could not easily miss their target. At the eastern end of the ambuscade he would be in position at a command post from where he would direct the fight, supported by three picked marksmen: John (Flyer) Nyhan, Jim (Spud) Murphy and Mick O’Herihy.[46]
Approximately ten yards from this position beyond a large heather-covered rock with a good field of fire lay ten rifle-men of No. 1 section. At the western end of the ambuscade on the northern side of the road the rifle-men of No. 2 section waited. They would cover the curve and the stretch of road by which the Auxies would approach the ambush area.
As an insurance against the arrival of a third lorry, No. 3 section was divided. Six rifle-men were posted to the north of the ambuscade about twenty yards from the path of the enemy, with a good field of fire on the approach road. In a shrewd tactic Barry had the remaining rifle-men of that section under Stephen O’Neill, section commander posted about 50 yards south of the road on a chain of rocks, mainly to prevent the Auxiliaries from jumping over the low ditch and establishing fighting positions there. Unarmed scouts were, as was usual, posted at both ends of the ambush area. Major Percival of the Essex Regiment noted that ‘the IRA were no fools in the conduct of guerrilla warfare … they even laid down certain principles of war … one of these principles was the principle of security.’[47]
Clothes, wet from the night of sleet and rain, clung to the men’s bodies as they lay on soggy soil. The hours passed slowly. The men had had no food since six o’clock the previous evening and no sleep. ‘The cold was intense’. It had begun to freeze as the men lay, so that their clothes grew stiff on their bodies. ‘It was a test of endurance and toughness,’ Barry recalled. Around mid-day the Kelly’s in an isolated house sent down a basin, a few iron buckets of tea and a bastable cake ‘probably all these honest people had’.[48] But this did not go far among the column of men. ‘It was a hard wait. We were waiting all day, all day!’ Pat O’Donovan recalled.[49] The men were warned to lie there. ‘They were told not to move.’ Local people on their way to Mass were asked to go home and to keep silent. The men had to lie all day, practically without moving, in the freezing cold.[50]
As time dragged towards evening, the men were at a low ebb. Nervous, cold, wet, hungry, all they could do was wait, hope and sometimes interrupt their thoughts with a prayer. Barry was standing in open view in his borrowed Volunteer uniform. ‘All the time he fingered carefully the all-important Mills bomb, and for the thousandth time he went over his strategy.’[51]There was ‘a fifty-fifty chance that he would be shot on sight’.[52]
It was just past 4 p.m. when the scouts to the north of the position signalled that the enemy was in sight. Barry’s men lay prone and rigid, awaiting his order to open fire. To Barry’s horror a side-car bearing five armed IRA Volunteers came around the bend. These men who should have reached the training camp the previous Sunday did not receive the mobilisation order in time. Now, not alone were they endangering their own lives, but they almost upset the operation of the entire column. Instantly Barry reacted. ‘Gallop up the lane; the Auxies are here! Gallop! Gallop!’ he shouted. The grey horse galloped and the men disappeared from sight and did not re-appear until the fight was over.
Seconds later, at 4.05 p.m. the first lorry came around the bend into the ambush position. The driver, apparently observing the uniformed figure, began to slow down.
‘I was afraid they were going to stop altogether,’ said Barry. ‘I had the Mills bomb in my hand and the pin out, ready to throw.’[53]When the lorry was within yards, having driven unsuspectingly past No. 3 and No. 2 sections, Barry hurled the bomb, blew his whistle and fired his automatic.
The grenade landed on the driver’s seat of the open top lorry. It exploded. It killed the driver and his companion. Rifle-shots rang
out from Barry and his men. The lorry lurched forward. Auxiliaries, who were not severely wounded by the blast, jumped out and responded to the IRA’s shots. Soon Barry and the men beside him were on the road in the fight. Revolvers were at times used at point blank range on the somewhat dazed enemy. The fight was intense, even hand-to-hand action. Rifle-butts replaced rifle-shots. ‘So close were the combatants that in one instance the pumping blood from an Auxiliary’s severed artery struck one attacker full in the mouth before the Auxiliary hit the ground. The Auxiliaries were cursing and yelling as they fought, but the IRA were tight-lipped, as ruthlessly and coldly they out-fought them.’[54]
This encounter was short, sharp and bloody. All of the nine Auxiliaries spread on the road seemed to be either dead or dying. Barry passed one whom he thought was dead, but he rose and took aim at him. Flyer Nyhan’s quick action with his bayonet halted the gunner. Barry got a side glimpse of this action. Brisk movement was vital. Waiting only to pick up a rifle and some of the Auxies’ clips of ammunition Barry commanded the three men from the command post to follow him. The second lorry was being engaged by No. 2 section.
This second group of Auxies was crouched on the road having taken what little cover they could as No. 2 section was ‘engaging strongly’ from their higher vantage position. Barry with the three rifle-men jogged in single file along the dyke with rifles at the ready. When they were about half ways between the two lorries, ‘I heard these fellows shouting, “We surrender! We surrender!” … We saw them, some of them threw their rifles away,’ Barry recalled. Firing stopped. Silence from the first lorry verified it had been wiped out.
No. 2 section Volunteers, who were only about 15 to 20 yards away from the enemy, thought the fight was over as Barry had blown the whistle. Some stood up. ‘Immediately the Auxies opened on them’ with revolvers. Bullets hit Volunteers who stood up and accepted the surrender.
