Torn Asunder

by Renny deGroot

  “I know you’ve got a girlfriend now. Not her, not Liam, no one.”

  “Is Liam not signed up?”

  Kevin shrugged. “Liam has his own things he’s up to.”

  Emmet nodded. Different cells. Different assignments. “I get it. Talk to no one.”

  “It’ll be a strike against the alien tyrant.”

  Kevin and Emmet spoke for an hour about the plans for the coming action.

  The beer was long finished before Kevin looked at his watch. “I have to go now. I’ll see you at the pub on the twenty-fifth, then.”

  Emmet went to bed after Kevin left, tossing and turning. This is it. Did I jump too quickly because Kevin doubted me? Dear God, what have I agreed to?

  He had to talk to Bridie. He believed in his heart he could tell her anything, and yet Kevin had been clear. I may not even survive and yet I can’t talk to her. I have to be loyal to the cause, meaning, not a word to her, no matter how much I want to.

  • • •

  The weather was lovely, so Emmet and Bridie met at Fusiliers’ Arch to wander through St. Stephen’s Green before finding a shady spot by the water. Bridie shook out the blanket that she had brought with her and they sat down. Emmet pulled out two bottles of ginger ale from his jacket pocket.

  Bridie smiled. “You’ve very organized.”

  He stroked the blanket. “No more than you.”

  She nodded. “We make a good team, I think.”

  He took her hand and smiled. He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “So why do you look so down?”

  He sighed. “It’s a mess, Bridie.”

  She bit her lip. “Us?”

  “No. The ongoing occupation of our land. This never-ending war of independence. We get hopeful and then everything seems to stall.”

  He released her hand and wrapped his arms around his bent knees, hunching himself together.

  She tilted her head. “What’s different about now versus a few weeks ago?”

  He shook his head. “You’ve been to a few of the Cumann na mBan meetings now. You must realize how strong the feelings are running.”

  She nodded. “You’re right, but what’s to be done?”

  “What’s not to be done is just to settle. People won’t. Even the elections show that. All one hundred and twenty-four Sinn Fein candidates were returned in the election. We can’t just give up and let our country be partitioned like this. It’s wrong.”

  Bridie pulled at some blades of grass.

  Emmet watched her and then, still hugging himself he took a deep breath. “Bridie, I think we should stop seeing each other.”

  She swivelled her head quickly, her eyes wide. “Why? Are you angry because you think I’m not as involved as you?”

  He chewed his top lip for a few seconds. “I may be called on to help more.”

  She frowned. “You’re a junior journalist. What can you do? And whatever it is, why does it mean we can’t see each other any more?”

  “I can’t really talk about it. I just think that after today, we’ll take a break until I can focus on us again.”

  “But I just don’t understand.” She scowled. “Is there someone else?”

  He stretched out his legs and took her hand again. “No. Only my country.”

  Now tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t understand why you can’t have room in your life for both your country and me.”

  When he didn’t respond, she choked out her question. “So how long a break are you talking about?”

  He shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

  She stared at him, blue eyes swimming.

  He licked his lips. “I’m sorry, Bridie. I know this isn’t fair to you. In fact, if you found someone else, I’ll understand and wouldn’t blame you.”

  “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

  He felt a lump in his throat. I wish I could tell her everything, but it’s not possible. I can’t even tell her about Kevin coming to see me last week. She’ll hear soon enough.

  He scooted closer and draped his arm around her. She sat rigidly in his embrace, sniffing. He had no words to offer her comfort.

  “Can you trust me, Bridie?”

  “How can I know when you won’t explain anything?”

  “I promise you’ll understand soon.”

  He felt her body sag and lean into him. Her words were muffled against the rough fabric of his jacket. “Then I have no choice but to trust you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dublin 25 May, 1921

  At eleven o’clock Emmet met his brother Kevin at Mulligan’s for something to eat and a pint. It was a beautiful summer’s morning.

  Kevin ate a big meal of roast beef, but Emmet only ordered a bowl of potato and leek soup and a cheese sandwich. Even that made his stomach turn. He watched Kevin eat. “How can you eat all that?”

  Kevin shrugged. “Don’t know when we’ll eat again, so I’ve learned to make the most of the chance.”

  Emmet sighed. “You’re probably right, but I can’t manage it.”

  Kevin nodded. “You’ll wish you had, later.”

  Emmet pushed his plate aside, part of the sandwich left behind. He looked at his watch. “Twelve-fifteen. We should go, shouldn’t we?”

  Kevin held up his half-full glass. “In a minute. We don’t want to be too early. People get edgy when they see fellows hanging about.”

  Emmet nodded.

  Kevin took another sip, seeming to study Emmet over the top of his glass. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

  Emmet shook his head. “No. Just nerves. It’s been a long time since I’ve been involved in this way.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  When Kevin finished his drink, they both made a quick visit to the toilet, and headed out. They walked along Poolbeg Street and then turned left towards George’s Quay. Crossing the Liffey, they turned right, walking along the river towards the Custom House.

  Emmet took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking it all out, and I’m still a bit confused about what happens after.”

  Kevin looked at him. “After?”

  “I understand the plan about getting in, the fire, all of that. But after we’ve made a success of it, explain again what happens next. The place is blazing. Is there an escape plan for us?”

  Kevin had a way of crooking up the right side of his mouth in half a smile. A sardonic smile. “We hope to mingle with the prisoners as they leave the building to safety. The idea is that we melt into the crowd.”

  Emmet tried to picture it. “Do you think that will work?”

  Kevin shrugged. “It’s worked in the past.”

  Emmet nodded. “Right. Okay. I just wanted to know in case we get separated, you know?”

  Kevin rested his hand on Emmet’s shoulder. “No one should get hurt.”

  Emmet twitched his shoulder and Kevin let his hand fall. “I’m not worried about getting hurt.” An image of the bloom of blood on his father’s jacket came to his mind. He didn’t tell Kevin I’m worried about you getting hurt.

  “Whatever happens, it’ll be fine. We’re striking a blow here. It’s meant to make a statement. Whatever price we pay for that, it’ll be worth it.”

  Emmet nodded. “Yeh, sure. You’re right.”

  They made their way to Sean Connolly Hall where others were already waiting. It was twelve-forty-five. They went into the building. Kevin pointed out the leader and led Emmet across the floor.

  Kevin introduced Emmet to Tom Ennis. “Tom, I know you’ve heard me mention my brother Emmet before. He’s part of the Ashbourne Volunteers along with me.”

  Ennis was about thirty years old, his sandy coloured hair thick and unruly, the left parting barely visible in the shaggy curls. Emmet smiled to see that Ennis had the same sticking-out ears as himself.

  Tom shook Emmet’s hand. “I’ve heard of you, and I’m familiar with your writing. I’m glad to have you here. You’ll be able t
o chronicle the operation first-hand.”

  Emmet nodded and felt a glow of pride. His doubts vanished. He shook Tom’s hand. “I’m happy to be here, serving with your Dublin Brigade.”

  Tom pulled his rucksack off his back and slipped each of them a revolver and six bullets. “Here’s your job.” He spelled out their instructions. “You’ll go up to the second floor and bring down any staff you find. All prisoners down to the main hall.” Tom continued as Emmet committed the words to memory. He made a mental note to write it all down later in his little notebook. He’d have to leave out any names just in case the book was confiscated. Emmet blinked and refocused as Tom asked if they understood.

  Both Kevin and Emmet nodded, and Tom moved on to other newcomers.

  At one o’clock a lorry pulled up in front of the building, loaded with tins of petrol. The men left the hall and queued up behind the lorry where two men handed out the petrol. Kevin and Emmet were given one between them. As soon as they were given the tin, they hustled away to be replaced by other young men. The hundred and twenty men were surprisingly quiet. The smell of nervous sweat mingled with petrol fumes.

  Kevin was a few steps ahead of Emmet when they rushed in through the front entrance. They took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, Emmet carrying the petrol while Kevin kept his revolver out and ready to fire. They burst into the first office.

  Inside the office were four men and a lady having tea. One of the men stood up. “Who are you?”

  Kevin waved the gun. “We are the IRA and are occupying this building. Come along now. You’ll have to go down and join everyone else down in the main hall.”

  The man stepped closer to Kevin and folded his arms across his chest. “Why would we do that?”

  Keven jerked his head towards Emmet. “We’re going to set fire to the office.”

  Now they all stood. The woman pointed to her coat hanging on a stand at the far side of the room. “May I get my coat?”

  Kevin frowned. “Hurry it up.”

  She picked up her purse, hurried over to the rack and threw her coat over her arm and then joined the others as Kevin herded them out.

  Kevin nodded to his brother and Emmet nodded back. Emmet heard Kevin tell the group to ‘move it’. As soon as the room was cleared, Emmet started to fling petrol around the office. Goodbye, you symbol of tyranny. It’s time for Ireland to take hold of her own destiny. As he worked to cover the papers on the desks with petrol, he had a brief memory of himself behind the hill, surrounded by gunfire. This is for you, Commander Ashe.

  Emmet went back out into the hallway and saw others like himself coming out of the offices. The staff had all been taken away now.

  The stench of petrol lay over him and his eyes watered. He heard, muffled through the thick stone walls a deep boom from somewhere outside. The building seemed to vibrate, and Emmet heard rifle fire popping from the street out front. It wasn’t until much later that he heard about the young Volunteer who threw a hand grenade at a lorry of police, before being gunned down.

  The minutes seemed to crawl. Emmet felt his heart pounding and he tried to take some deep breaths. Through burning eyes, he glanced at his watch and then, at last, he heard it.

  Tweeeet. The whistle! It was the signal to set everything ablaze. Emmet stood frozen for a second.

  Then, up and down the hall there were shouts from the Volunteers. “That’s it, lads!” And “Light her up!”

  Emmet turned back into the office he had soaked with petrol. His hand shook as he struck the match. It flared and died again just as quickly. Damn. He could smell smoke now drifting down the hall. He struck a second one and this time the match flared and caught. Emmet tossed it on to the desk and leaped back as the desk erupted. The papers curled and burned and then the fumes carried the flames from the desk to a chair and the room exploded in flame.

  Emmet felt the blast of heat against his face. He smelled burning hair and thought his hair or eyebrows were singed. He spun and ran out into the hallway, his feet pounding down the stairs, following the men before him, with others right behind.

  In the main hall, the prisoners were lying down. Emmet saw Volunteers crouching and moving through the civilians, pushing anyone taking too long down on the floor. “Down. Lie down. It’s for your own safety. Lie down, lie down.”

  At the sound of a burst of machine-gun fire from outside, some of the women screamed. Emmet heard prayers and moans. He spied Kevin at a position by one of the tall windows facing the quay and ran over to join him. They crouched down, huddling behind the stone wall and covered their heads with their arms as a hail of bullets shattered the window. Glass rained down on the floor where seconds before they had crouched. Wind from the river Liffey blew in through the open window frame, and carried the sound of shouting and gunfire as the military and auxiliaries fought to regain control.

  Kevin shook his head. “They don’t give a damn that there are civilians in here.”

  The Volunteers broke more windows and returned fire. It was the first time that Emmet had fired a gun. Aside from the hunting knife his father had given him during the 1916 rebellion, his weapon had always been the cutting words he used in his articles. When he fired his first shot, Emmet was shocked as the recoil caused his arm to jerk upwards, sending the shot wild. He now understood why most men used two hands to steady themselves against the kick. His six bullets were gone before he knew it. I should have saved them. I should have waited until I saw a specific target.

  Emmet was expecting the fire to spread through the building, but it hadn’t yet reached the lower level as far as he could see.

  He moved away from the window, crawling towards the centre of the main hall. Most of the Volunteers had depleted their ammunition. The sound of gunfire slowed as the police realized they were not being fired upon.

  Kevin nudged him and they both watched as the commander, Tom Ennis, started shouting orders. “Up! Get up on your feet!”

  Many of the women seemed frozen as they lay crying. Now Ennis’s men walked through, helping people up instead of pushing them down. “Come on. It’s over. Get up. Time to go.”

  The civilians were lined up. Tom opened the door and they were marched out with their hands raised. The Volunteers and the staff all shouted a continual chorus of “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”

  For a moment it appeared that the hostages would make it to safety without further incident and then Emmet watched in horror as a team of Auxiliaries charged in while the civilians made their way outside, shooting as they came in. Several men fell, wounded. Emmet watched as a group of three civilian clerks all fell, hit by rifle fire. Emmet grasped Kevin’s arm. “What the feck are they doing? Oh my God.”

  Slowly the gunfire stopped. Kevin and Emmet joined the line of men walking out with their hands raised.

  Emmet’s eyes widened as he saw their leader make a run for it. He grunted in sympathy when he saw Tom get hit, and then, limping heavily, he was swallowed up by the crowd of onlookers. Some Black and Tans tried to give chase, but no one dared fire into the crowd, and the soldiers came back empty-handed.

  Emmet heard Kevin. “He made it away. Good.”

  The line of men shuffled forward as the Auxiliaries marshalled them outside.

  One of the leaders of the police walked along the line of men with the head customs official. “Now then sir, please identify your employees.”

  The official pointed out the employees one by one. “Him, yes and him. Her and these two.”

  As they were identified the employees could leave.

  The two men stepped up to Emmet and Kevin. The official shook his head and they walked on. Emmet bit his lip. He had known what the risk was when he agreed to participate in the operation. There was never any doubt that it would end like this. I’m going to jail this time for certain.

  He shifted from foot to foot as they waited for the identification parade to finish. By the end Emmet estimated there were close to a hundred people left. Some were fello
ws he knew but there were others that he had never seen. Who are they?

  As they were marched off to the waiting lorries, Emmet kept close to Kevin. Maybe we’ll be put together in a cell.

  • • •

  The lorries took most of them to Arbour Hill detention barracks where they were held for two days for processing and then most were sent to Kilmainham Jail. The brothers did not end up in the same cell, but as it happened, Emmet was content with how things worked out. His cell mate was a man about twenty years his senior. Michael Rourke was from Balbriggan and regaled Emmet with stories of past exploits, including the burning down of several R.I.C. barracks. He had long dark hair that he flipped out of his eyes while tugging at the matching dark moustache he did his best to keep neatly trimmed. He had a floppy newsboy cap that he always wore outside of the cell and Emmet suspected Michael worried he was going bald. They had to sign up for work details and Emmet was put with Michael in the garden.

  Michael leaned back against the stone wall, looking as comfortable as if he had been lounging on a sofa at home. “You should be keeping a journal, son.”

  Emmet bit his lip. “You’re right. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”

  “That lass of yours will be coming to visit again. Tell her to bring you a notebook.”

  “I will. Did you ever keep a journal?”

  Michael laughed. “No, not me. I’m not one for holding on to things. Books, clothes, women. I never seem to have them for long.”

  Emmet nodded. “You travel light.”

  Michael nodded. “Have to.”

  After work they walked out to the yard together. They were allowed free time for exercise and it was during this time that Emmet could meet with his brother and other friends.

  Emmet found Kevin sitting on his own with his back against a wall, warming his face in the sun. “Imagining you are on holiday somewhere?”

  Kevin opened his eyes, his hand shading the sun. “No place I’d rather be than here.”

  Emmet sat down beside him. “Does it bother you at all that Tom Ennis isn’t here with us?”

  Kevin leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Not at all. Why? Does it bother you?”