• • •
Friday dawned clear with the promise of a sunny day. The men gathered around Ashe and Mulcahy for the morning briefing.
Ashe’s voice carried through the stillness of the morning. “We’re reorganizing, so listen up for your new assignments.” He looked around the group to ensure everyone was paying attention. “I’m splitting you into four sections. We’ve had some intelligence that makes us believe that British troop reinforcements are being sent from Athlone into Dublin. We need to help our comrades who are holding on as well as they can in Dublin, so we need to sabotage the rail lines to stop the troops from getting to Dublin.”
Ashe handed the briefing over to Mulcahy to go through the exact instructions and assignments. “So, sections one to three – be prepared to leave at ten o’clock. You men of Section Four will be with Jim Lawless to guard the camp and help Frank Lawless gather supplies and food. Be ready to come in as support if necessary.”
Emmet had already been told that he’d be with Section One, commanded by Weston again and would act as courier to deliver messages between the various sections. Ashe needed to know exactly how things were going at all times in order to shift men as needed.
The briefing ended, and Emmet caught up with Liam before they mounted their bicycles. Liam grinned as he pointed to the long thin Martini Henry carbine now strapped to the bar of his bike.
Emmet nodded. “You got your gun, then.”
“A beaut, isn’t she?”
“You’re with Section Three, with Joe again?”
“I am. Joe thought I should have a weapon as well.” Liam’s voice was proud.
“Well, we’re off, then. Good luck today. I’ll see you later.”
Liam mounted his bike, his hand caressing the dark wooden stalk of the weapon.
Emmet smiled at him and went to find his own bicycle. He didn’t care that he didn’t have a gun. In fact, he was secretly glad of it. He patted the leather knife pouch strapped to his belt. This will do.
They lined up in order of section. Section Four was going to hold back, but the other thirty plus men pushed off on their bicycles, silent now that they were on the way. In the rear, the only motor car would follow, driven by the medical officer, Dr. Hayes.
The convoy was led by two scouts from Section One who went ahead to act as spotters. Ashe and Mulcahy were in Section Two. They headed off along the Dublin-Slane road, which would take them close to Rath Cross, north of Ashbourne.
The plan was to check if the barracks on the way to Ashbourne was still in use. If so, Section One would lead the raid to capture the arsenal. Emmet found his teeth starting to chatter again as they rode towards Ashbourne. He was in Section One. As soon as the spotters came back to report, the section would move on. This was his home neighbourhood. Even the RIC were familiar faces to him. Please God, let them just surrender.
The three sections followed the spotters, detouring towards Ashbourne. They were on the main road and the barracks was in sight. Emmet stiffened his back and craned his head to look ahead. Soldiers! There were two men building a barricade in front of the barracks.
Weston waved his men to a stop and they watched as the scouts raced forward.
Emmet could hear the shouts from the two scouts as they waved their weapons aggressively at the two RIC soldiers. “Hand over your weapons or we’ll shoot!”
Emmet watched with wide eyes as the soldiers did as they were told.
Emmet heard the closest man behind let out a soft cheer. “Good man, Niall.”
The two scouts took possession of the soldiers’ weapons and marched them along the column of Volunteers, taking their prisoners to the rear of the convoy.
The raid would go forward now. Ashe ordered all the men off their bicycles. “Sections Two and Three, take cover.”
The men dismounted and took cover close to the edge of the by-road. They were just north of the crossroads called Rath Cross.
Ashe and Mulcahy came forward to join Weston and Section One. Ashe led the men, creeping forward to take positions behind an embankment just across the road from the barracks.
Emmet’s father moved stiffly but otherwise seemed better today. Ned pointed to an area on the edge of the group. “Emmet, get over to the flank there and hold until the door is breeched. Come forward then. We’ll need every man to help guard and collect the weapons.”
Emmet crept along the embankment to a slope where he could clearly see what was happening both at the barracks and his own section.
Ashe bellied up to the top of the embankment, with Mulcahy on one side and Weston on his other. Along the top ridge of the embankment, the rest of the men trained their rifles on the barracks. The building was larger than Donabate, but otherwise looked the same. The whitewash on the stone walls was newer but still weathered and chipped. Ashe lifted his head above the top of the grassy hill. His voice rang out, clear and loud in the still morning. “In the name of The Irish Republic, surrender now or pay the price.”
A volley of rifle fire came from the barracks, aimed at Ashe. Spurts of dirt exploded from the hill as Ashe dove for cover. He shouted to Section One, “Fire at will!”
The men returned fire on the barracks. A barrage of bullets was aimed at the windows and an explosion of glass and splintered wood flew through the air.
Ashe and Mulcahy slid back down the embankment, directing the men to take positions. Emmet’s eyes were stretched as he watched some of the Volunteers sprint for the protection of the wall in front of the barracks. They dodged the bullets as they made it to the footpath along the road.
Emmet clenched his fists. Dear God, they’ll never make it. It’s madness. But they did. Others rushed out to take positions north of the barracks.
The noise made Emmet’s ears ring. The smell of cordite hung in the air, making his eyes sting. And then Emmet watched as his own father made a dash to dive in behind a wall just south of the barracks. Emmet almost cried out ‘no’ when he saw his father leaving the safety of the embankment, but held himself in check.
Now there was only a handful of them left behind the hill, but they held there on the instructions of Weston. They would wait to move forward when the door was breeched. Meanwhile the two who had rifles continued to fire at the windows and door.
Emmet had a moment to wonder what Sections Two and Three were doing. Will they come forward? And then he forgot about them again as he continued to watch what was happening in front of him.
For the next half hour, the police in the barracks exchanged fire with the Volunteers. Finally, Emmet watched as one of the Volunteers stood up and threw a homemade canister grenade at the barracks. He did it quickly and bobbed back down behind the wall before he could be shot. The grenade landed short of the barracks. Dirt flew up in a spray of grass tufts, pebbles and mud, leaving a small crater in front of the barracks.
A shout went up from the Volunteers. “Surrender! They’re surrendering!”
From one of the upstairs windows a white cloth was displayed. An old towel draped over a wooden stick protruded outside the window.
Around Emmet, the men moved into a crouch, ready to dash forward when the door opened. One of his comrades glanced over to Emmet. “Get ready, lad. We’ll be going in.”
Emmet heard Ashe’s voice over the din of the continuing pot-shots. “Cease Fire. Cease Fire.”
On both sides, the firing stopped. The volunteers crept closer to the door, waiting for the RIC to emerge.
A shot rang out. Emmet slid back down a little behind the cover of the embankment. It’s a trick. Emmet looked towards the barracks to see if they had resumed shooting, but no. It was silent, and still the white cloth hung loosely from the window.
He heard another shot. It was coming from the crossroads. At that moment Ashe appeared behind the embankment beside Emmet. “Go, lad. Find out what’s happening. Just look and come back to report.”
Emmet rose to a crouch and dashed off, bent over, keeping down behind the embankment, but making hi
s way around to a spot where he had a view of the crossroads.
Dear God. Emmet took a long enough look to burn the scene onto his brain and then scurried back to Ashe who was waiting with Mulcahy to see if the police from inside the barracks would emerge.
Emmet flopped down on his belly beside Ashe. “Sir.” He gasped for air, struggling to get the words out.
“Well?”
“A convoy of police cars, sir.”
“How many?”
“I counted twenty-four.”
“Our men?”
“It looks like they’re in control, sir. Several of the police have left their vehicles and taken cover in the ditches. Our men are giving them hell, sir.”
Ashe nodded to Mulcahy. “Come on.” He waved his hand towards the barracks. “They won’t come out now. They know reinforcements are coming.”
Ashe pointed to Emmet. “You’re with me. I may need a runner.”
Emmet’s heart pounded as he followed Ashe, slipping on the grassy hill as he ran in a crouch behind the fast-moving men. Mulcahy stopped for a moment to brief Weston on what was happening. Weston nodded and held his hand up pointing to two of his men, directing them to hold their places. He then waved at the others from around the barracks, directing them to move forward to the crossroads.
When Emmet arrived back at the crossroads, he could see two men lying in the road, blood seeping from wounds. He could also see the driver from the lead car, lying across his steering wheel. Dead? Certainly wounded. He swallowed hard, feeling the vomit rise in his throat. The real thing. This is the real thing. I can’t do it.
Ashe and Mulcahy were in a huddle while Weston led his men up the western side of the road. The Volunteers from Section One began firing into the convoy and Emmet watched as the police were pinned down under the motorcars or in the ditches on the eastern side of the road.
Ashe gestured to Emmet. “Quick as you can, take this order back to Section Four to come now.”
Emmet took the order, stuffing it into his pocket. “Right, sir.” He ran back to his bicycle and jumped on, pedalling with all his might to get back to the camp he had left only two hours previously. He was hardly aware of the road under his wheels as his mind tried to process all he had seen so far this morning. I wish I had time to see Da before I left. Please let him, Michael and Kevin come out of this day all right. He hadn’t seen Liam for the past hour so didn’t know if he’d had a chance to fire his gun yet. He’ll see the action he wants today, for sure.
Emmet was back at the camp faster than he thought even possible. He thrust the note into the hand of Frank Lawless, and as Frank scanned the note quickly, Emmet bent over resting his hands on his knees, sucking in deep breaths.
Frank shouted as he dashed to get his bicycle. “Mount up, men. Follow me. We’re needed.”
Emmet waited until the dozen men furiously took off and then he too mounted back on his bicycle, following as fast as he could. His heart was still pounding from the ride to the camp. His legs felt like rubber as he tried now to keep up with the group riding back towards the crossroads.
As they pulled close to the RIC barracks, Emmet conjured up a burst of energy, flying up to the front to come abreast of Frank. Emmet pointed to the embankment. “The bikes are all there.”
Frank nodded and waved his men to the side of the road and Emmet led them to where everyone else had left their bicycles behind the cover of the hill. The sound of heavy gunfire echoed around the hills.
Emmet pointed up the road. “Shall I take you to where I left Commandant Ashe?”
Lawless nodded. “Good lad.”
Within minutes they came upon Mulcahy, who had been watching for them. Emmet fell to the back of the group as Mulcahy led them northward towards the Garristown Road. They crept forward and suddenly they were under fire.
Emmet flattened himself into a ditch while the others returned fire. Zing. Emmet thought the bullet almost grazed him. He kept his face pressed against the cold mud of the ditch.
Then he heard shouting. Someone was yelling, but it wasn’t the police. It was Mulcahy. “Hold your fire. Hold your fire.”
The bullets slowly stopping whizzing past and the men around Emmet cautiously raised themselves up.
Emmet heard Frank Lawless. “Dear God. It’s our own men. We’ve been feckin’ shooting at our own men.”
Mulcahy waved his revolver to Frank. “Go. Take the men north to get above the convoy. I’ll find Ashe.”
Emmet stayed with Frank and the men as they continued. It wasn’t until much later that Emmet heard that the ‘friendly fire’ incident had wounded two men from Section Two who had been moving, along with Section three to reinforce Section One.
Section Four moved slowly, watching for men of either side as they tried to get into position to outflank the police.
As Section Four came abreast of the tail end of the convoy, Emmet saw a policeman who looked like a senior man, given the braid on his shoulders and the way he was shouting orders, stand up from his spot behind his vehicle. When the man stood, he saw the Volunteers of Section Four moving along parallel to the road.
Emmet took a breath to shout a warning. Too late. The shot found its target and a Volunteer fell, clutching his chest, blood seeping between his fingers. Frank Lawless lifted his revolver. The policeman dropped to his death, even as he was still waving his arms to rally his men to stand up and fight.
There was a shocked silence and then a rifle was thrown from the ditch. Surrender! All along the road the trapped RIC men threw down their weapons and surrendered. As the Volunteers came down and began collecting the weapons, Emmet watched for his father and brothers. Yes. There they are. Michael, Da, Kevin. Ah, and there. There’s Liam. All fine. Emmet stood on the hill and looked down at the road. It was littered with wounded and dead men but none of them Volunteers. Only the one man from Section Four.
Ashe and Mulcahy walked along the road, checking on each of the wounded. Ashe turned and saw Emmet. He gestured to him in a ‘come here’ motion. Emmet ran down the hill to Ashe’s side.
“Go to the parish and fetch the priest.”
“Aye, sir.”
Safe now that all shooting had ceased, Emmet ran along the road to where his bicycle was. He stopped for a moment when he saw the stream of police coming out of the barracks with their hands in the air. He counted fifteen men who were being led by their Volunteer guards to join the other prisoners.
Emmet pushed himself to cover the half mile to the town of Ashbourne as fast as he could. He pulled open the heavy wooden door in the Church of the Immaculate Conception. An old woman sitting in silent prayer glared at his noisy entrance.
The stone walls echoed with his shout. “Father Dillon. You’re needed.”
“Hush, son. What is it?”
“Have you not heard? There’s been a great battle just up the road. There’s dead and dying waiting for you.”
The old woman cried out and crossed herself.
The priest also crossed himself. “I’ll get my things and Father Murphy. Where exactly? We’ll go in the motor.”
Emmet waved his arm in the direction from which he had just come. “Rath Cross.”
“We’ll be there directly.”
Emmet once again mounted his bicycle, covering the short distance back to the battleground in minutes. Since the area was secured, he rode all the way to the crossroads to find Ashe. “The two priests will be here in a moment, Sir.”
Ashe nodded. “Good, good.” He turned away from Emmet then, giving instructions to men along the way. “Can you drive? Yes? Good, you’ll help to take the wounded to the infirmary in Navan.”
Between Mulcahy and Ashe, they quickly arranged for all the wounded to be loaded into the police motor cars and sent them off to be tended.
Emmet saw a man he knew who hadn’t been involved in any shooting loading dead men into a cart. “John, shall I help you?”
John Austen who worked at the local post office nodded. “Two of the R
IC are helping as well, but yes, I could use your help.”
They walked along the road to where a man lay in the road. The car he had been driving was gone, used to transport the wounded. The body looked strange, lying alone in the middle of the road. Emmet reached down to take hold of his legs, the police boots still shiny as if the man had given them a good buff before leaving for work that morning.
Again, Emmet’s stomach recoiled as he touched a dead body for the first time in his life. He hesitated before grasping the dead man’s legs and then gritted his teeth as his hands closed around the legs. “Jaysus, he’s heavy.”
John nodded. “People don’t realize how much heavier a dead man is, than a live one who’s helping to move himself.”
Emmet wanted to treat the man with care, but by the time they managed to lift him up to the cart, it was all he could do to get the body fully on top of the ones already there. The body landed with a thud, and flies scattered from the blood-covered face of the previous body.
Emmet ran to the ditch and heaved, the breakfast he had eaten so long ago, coming back up. He wiped his mouth and then rejoined John.
John shook his head. “Go on. I’ll get one of the police to help me.”
Emmet straightened his shoulders. “No. I’m fine. Let’s get on with it.”
By the time they were done, there were eight dead men in the cart.
• • •
Emmet joined Liam near the back of the group of Volunteers. He looked at his friend’s carbine resting on his shoulder. “Did you use it?”
“Of course I did. What do you think?”
“And?”
“And did I kill anyone?”
Emmet nodded.
Liam shrugged. “Who knows? We were all firing like mad, so I don’t know.” He sniffed and tilted his chin up. “Probably. I think I probably did.”
Emmet bit his lip. “Well, I guess that’s what you were supposed to do.”
Liam frowned. “You don’t think I’m sorry, do you?”
Emmet was saved from responding when Ashe began to speak. There were about eighty prisoners assembled at the crossroads.
Torn Asunder Page 5