“How did you manage to put the house on fire over their heads?”
“We had to climb up a ladder and break the slates with a hammer and pour plenty of petrol down into the hole.”
“Wasn’t that dangerous? Couldn’t they have killed the man with the hammer if they shot at him through the roof?”
“They could of course, but they shot just the same.”
“God protect us, who was up there?”
“O, a man from the squad.”
“I bet it was yourself up there. It was you surely. I had good cause to be praying for you, love. Mind yourself, love, mind yourself. If you come in here some day on a stretcher, what will Marcaisin and I do?”
“If that day comes,” he said, “it can’t be helped. But if you think, Triona, that I am doing injustice to you or Marcaisin by putting myself in danger of death so often, I will leave the Republican Army in the morning.”
“You are not serious, Marcus,” she said. “It is well you know that I would go into the gap of danger shoulder to shoulder with you. Marcaisin will never have it to say that his Daddy deserted his country at a time when his help was most needed; and it won’t ever have to be said to me either that I discouraged a Republican soldier. Did you get many riffles from the barrack?”
“The men are as proud as a bunch boys. We took six riffles, and guns, and ammunition, and hand grenades, and a few guns, and Eoin an Droighead’s double barrel amongst it.”
“Maise, my seven blessings on you,” she said. “You can be sure that they will come for you after that.”
“You never know. It would be difficult for them to know who did this job tonight; but after that, it would be as well for some of us at least to be on our guard from now on.”
“Do you think Eoin an Droighead gave them much information?”
“I would say that he gave himself a headache telling them about the raid on his house last night; but I doubt that he gave them any information about names or places. The fear would stop him no matter how angry he was. But at the same time we will have to keep an eye on him.”
“Do many people know about the den?”
“No one knows about the den except yourself and ourselves. Every man is bound by oath, to secrecy about it; and the man who talks will not live long.”
“That sun is rising behind Sliabh an Iarann, love,” she said. “Up you go to bed. I will get Nansai up soon so she can go on guard-for fear of the worst.”
A ROUGH NIGHT IN THE HALL
It was a harsh winter’s night towards the end of January. The ground was frozen as hard as rocks, and there were sheets of snow over it. There were endless gales coming in over the hills and there were showers of hailstones every few minutes. It was absolutely black dark. But by all appearances, the young people of Gleann Ceo were passing no heed of the cold or the darkness or even the showers of hailstones. Because the hall at the Droighead was all lit up, with fiddle and whistle music, with the sound of the dancers on the wooden floor, with loud talking noise and laughter. You could see little groups coming through the Gleann through the darkness; and you could hear the laughter of young fellows, and the merriment of young women carried by the wind.
The hall was full from the stage to the door, with streams of condensation running down the insides of the windows. Spirited boys and carefree girls were knocking a lot of noise out of the floor, and some of the men had sweat running into their eyes. Una Guildea was out there like every one else, and she was surpassing everyone else because of her clothes, and her foreign accent, and her short hair, and the coys she made with her mouth and her eyes. She was doing a style of dancing that no one in Gleann Ceo had ever seen, except for a few youths from the north of Ireland who were in the foot patrol- squad which was in place for about four months. It is said that one sheep recognises another sheep; and that is how it was with Una and the foot patrol on that night. No sooner was she finished dancing with one than she was up and dancing with another of the men. She attracted a lot of attention because of her beauty and her scanty clothing. And as her new style of dancing well the locals were saying that it was not dancing at all only walking. Little they thought that night that they would all be doing the same ‘walk’ before long. Little did Una herself think, either, that the fireside chat in the years to come would be crediting her with being the first woman who introduced the short clothes, and the low necklines, the cropped hair and the jazz to Gleann Ceo.
Triona was there, and she did not know what to say to this young woman who had just returned from Birmingham. She advised her quietly to leave this British dance behind her; but Una told her not to be talking like an old woman from the deluge. Triona was thinking that Una’s attitude hadn’t changed.
Pol an Greasai was there and his heart was breaking, the poor fellow. He took Una out for a dance, early in the night, and he asked her if she would sit with him when the dance was over. She said she would of course. He was thinking, that he was winning. But no sooner was she sitting beside him than she began to throw everything at him that she could think of. She told him that the pipe he was smoking was sickening his stomach, and he had to put it in his pocket. She told him that the legs of his trousers were too narrow, that his shirt was old fashioned and that he should have a split at the back of his jacket. His hair was not cut right, either, and his nails were filthy dirty. His teeth weren’t cleaned as they should either, she said, and his shoes were far too heavy. She left the poor fellow speechless; but his heart would not allow him to give her a back answer. A man from the foot patrol took her out dancing, and she did not return to Pol anymore. He did not approach her again either. But his heart was pierced every time that he half glanced at her sitting, laughing and having fun with the youths from the north of Ireland.
Marcus Mac Alastair was there and his face puzzled watching Una, and Pol, and Feargal, and Nansai Seimin Ban, and Peadar, and a whole lot more. He had a loaded gun in his pocket under his arm, because he was on his guard for a few months. Between his own company, and the foot patrol which had come to him a while before that, they had left all the barracks around Gleann Ceo in ugly heaps. But the police were in Druim Dhilliuir yet, and there was a full barrack of soldiers there, and the rumour was out there that there were some Black and Tans with them for a while. The police and the soldiers came a few times, and they searched the Gleann, but neither Marcus nor any of the men they wanted were available to them, and they were obliged to return as they had come.
The last time they came Marcus was inside in the mine and Feargal was with him. They went inside and they searched the mine; but warning of their arrival had been received; Marcus and Feargal and a few other men who were wanted by them did not delay in hiding from them, in an unused passage, which they had prepared for such an occasion. The foot patrol squad happened to be down at the den that same day; but the search party had no knowledge what ever of that place. Conn Mac Carty was the first man to see them coming that day, and it was he who went into the mine with the warning. Of course he had to hide himself as well, and he stayed inside the mine until the search was over.
Marcus and his men avoided the big towns. They carried firearms and sentries were deployed at night whenever they left the Gleann. And they were doing just that. Because every man of them had a firearm of some kind; and they had lookouts posted out there on the roads.
Conn Mac Carty was playing the Foggy Dew, and all in the hall were enchanted by it, when one of the sentries rushed in breathless, with his riffle in his hand,
“Lorries are coming up the Gleann,” he said, “three of them.
Marcus jumped on to the stage.
“Keep on dancing,” he said, “ and pay no attention to them. We will not be long away from you. It would be too dangerous to put you out on the roads.”
He gave a quick order, and in the blink of an eye every Republican soldier was in the middle of the floor with a riffle, or a gun, or some other fire- arm in his hands. Another order from him, and the whole lot were gone out
the door. Marcus jumped off the stage and he followed them. But he delayed at the door, with his eyes riveter on the floor, and he was fingering his gun, as if he was of two minds.
“We regret having to leave you like this,” he said, “but we won’t get a second chance at this blow. If we defend the hall there will be deaths, and women and men who have nothing to do with the Republican Army will be shot. Keep your heads, and remain civilized, gentle, until we see what comes of this.”
Triona was standing beside him and she whispered to him before he dashed out. The lorries could be heard arriving at the Church at this stage.
“God protect you all,” Triona said, and she closed the door carefully behind them. She was not nervous or shaking in any way. Most of the girls were as pale as the walls, and some of them were shaking. Some of them were gathered around the windows watching the lights coming towards them through the darkness at speed. There was not a word out of the men. Some young fellow jumped up on the stage to take down the tricolour and hide it. Triona went as far as him gracefully.
“We will die a hundred times,” she said, “before we do that.”
She showed no sign of emotion or fear either in her face or her voice. But there was dignity in her step as she approached the young man. He left the flag as it was above the stage,
“Strike up Highland,” Triona said, “and out you go dancing. Stay away from the windows, friends; because they are dangerous.”
Her advice was accepted; and when the soldiers the police and the Black and Tans burst into the hall they found them on the floor dancing. They continued to dance and the soldiers filed in until there were nearly three score of them inside. They were carrying guns and riffles, and his finger on the trigger with every single man of them. The soldiers looked orderly enough although some of them had a good drop drank; but the Black and Tans, matched their reputation. Their berets were flung on their heads each one funnier than the other; their tunics open; their drunken legs were bending under them; and the likes of the language that came from their mouths was never heard in Gleann Ceo before.
An officer from the soldiers lifted his hand in a gesture to stop the music. One of the Black and Tans wanted to hurry them up so he pulled his trigger and shot through the roof over their heads. The girls began to scream, because they were terrified at the way the gun totters ordered them to be silent.
“Up with your hands, every single person.” shouted the officer who had given the band orders to stop. “Hands up! And stand on your feet to be searched.”
They all stood up with their hands raised high over their heads. The gunmen went from person to person, and they searched them all, men and women alike. The Black and Tans were the most unmannerly of course, especially the man who put the bullet through the roof, it didn’t matter to him what kind of mauling he did with the girls. Triona was watching him and she was waiting for him to get as far as herself, so that she could vent some of her anger on him. But he did not go to her. He spotted Una, and he staggered towards her. He put his hand on her side, and that evil look about him. But he never expected her to do what she did. She just took his hand from her side and gave the best thump in the mouth that she could give. The evil look left him and the appearance of the evil spirit came over him. He stuck his gun into her chest and he had his finger on the trigger. There was a little trickle of blood running down from the corner of his mouth. Una was beginning to shake in spite of herself, and she thought that there was no feeling in her limbs.
“Put a bullet through the – and be done with her.” another one of the Black and Tans said, as he was coming around to them.
With that one of the soldiers leaped over to the pair and he grabbed the arm of the Black and Tan.
“Harry,” he said, “take your gun away from that girl! Remove it, I tell you! I know her of old. Una Guildea, is this where you are now, among the Sinnfeineach?”
The other man gave her an evil look, as much as to say that he would get his own out of her yet, and he moved off.
“Wallace Woods,” she said, “pretend that you are angry with me, and begin to search me while I tell you.”
He did as she asked but he was surprised.
“I am eternally grateful to you,” she said. “Do you remember the night that I left you in the public house in Birmingham?”
“I would like to have a long conversation with you,” he said, and he pretending to be questioning her severely. Where can I see you?”
She put her hand on her chest and she pretended to be coughing.
“I will go to Droim Dhilliuir on Wednesday,” she said. “I’ll be there until four o clock.”
“Good enough,” he said, “I’ll be looking out for you.”
He left her.
The damage that was done by the British mob in the hall at the Droighead that night was devastating. They tore down the tricolour flag and they burned it in the middle of the floor. They stood in a circle around it and they sang God save the King. They ordered the dancers to help them with the song; but of course even if they were inclined to do the likes, they would not have been able, because they did not have a single word of it. Many of the young man got kicked or thumped, and some of them were beaten on their heads with the stocks of guns. The girls were abused in many ways also. They smashed every window in the hall into smithereens. They put every book from the library into one big pile in the middle of the dance floor. They poured petrol on them until they looked as if they had been taken out of the river. They gathered chairs, tables, stools, and all the other furniture that was in the place and they heaped them on top of the books. Then they threw another can of petrol on them. They ordered the dancers to clear “to hell out on the road”, and to stand on the far side in front of the hall. They had to stand in silence with a circle of riffles around them, and watch their fine building, engulfed in a frightful blazing inferno.
“That’s an end to the villain’s nest, where ever they themselves are hiding,” the officer who seemed to be in charge of them said.
“Let them come out of their holes now,” one of the Black and Tans said, “until we see what can they do, themselves and their guns. Damn the pack of dogs let them appear.”
An order from the officer and the lot of them went up on the lorries. The engines started and the British mob began cheering and mocking. The likes of their lewd, smutty language was never heard in Gleann Ceo before. They eventually moved after they had fired a few shots at the mountains.
The young people remained standing around watching the fire, and the fading lights of the lorries moving away from them down the Gleann. They could hear the noise of the engines and the unruly yelling of the soldiers. And just then they heard a shot being fired from a riffle. And it wasn’t fully fired until they heard a volley of shots I quick succession. It wasn’t long until the shots were as fast as the hailstones on the window. The lights of the lorries went out, but the engines continued to purr without a stop. You could hear them stealing away little by little; and in a short little time neither an engine nor a shot could be heard.
The crowd remained where they were until the ambushers joined them. They came down the highway in military order, the light from the inferno picking them up from the Church. Marcus Mac Alastair examined what was left of the building, which he had established for culture and pastime in Gleann Ceo, and he was grieved.
“Let us go home,” he said. “We will be without a hall in the morning; but some of the men who had a hand in the burning are not alive tonight. Let us walk.”
AN ENEMY IN CAPTIVITY
On the Wednesday after the burning Una Guildea got the loan of Triona’s bicycle and off she went down the steep slopes and around by the head of Loch Eala, and across the Shannon until she was in Droim Dhilliuir. Ballinashee was a similar little town to Droim Dhilliuir, and it was nestled comfortably at the foot of Sliabh an Iarann. The market day with a noisy crowd a noisy crowd in the little street, which would have been quiet enough any other day of the week.
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br /> It was not with empty pockets that Una returned from England. She had the most of what she had earned home with her to Gleann Ceo; and she intended to spend some of it on a lot of little things, which she needed. She was in and out about her business in the shops; she was keeping an eye on the soldiers, who were here and there on the streets and in the doorways of the pubs. But she could not see Wallace Woods at all. And it was her wish to spend some time talking to him. Even though she had left him as she did, in the pub in Birmingham, she still had some regard for him, and she was fairly excited when he came to her rescue that awful night in the hall. It was to his great credit, she thought, to come between the Black and Tans and herself. If he hadn’t, maybe she would be under the sod by now. He had a kind heart, she thought, and it was an awful pity that he was a soldier in the British Army.
When she was finished shopping, she sent her parcels home with a man from Barr an Gleanna, who happened to be there selling bonhams. Then she had that done she moved off down the street as far as the one little guest- house that was in the town, so she could get a drop of tea. As she entered she met Wallace Woods coming out. He was on his own, and he looked a little drunk. He held her with his two hands and he took the full of his two eyes out of her.
“Una Guildea,” he said, I was just going out to look for you. Do you know that you are getting prettier every single day?”
“Silence with your plamas,” she said, “you British thief who left us without our hall.”
“I had no part in that work at all,” he said, “and if I had any power, I would not let it happen. It is no wonder that the Sinnfeinigh ambushed us on our way down.”
“Did they do you much harm?” Una asked.
“Did they do much harm?” He repeated the question. “Maybe they didn’t! Walk in here to the room and I will tell you. Will you have a drink?”
West, in the Foggy Valley Page 13
