The Real Chief - Liam Lynch

by Meda Ryan

  At this stage GHQ decided that Cork would be divided into three brigade areas.7On 6 January 1919 a meeting of officers from the battalion forming the Cork No. 2 brigade was held in Batt Walshe’s house in Glashbee, Mallow. The brigade was formed into seven battalions with Liam unanimously elected as brigade commandant.8Once the conscription crisis ended he went back to his normal employment at Barry’s in Fermoy. Fol­lowing the meeting and Liam’s election, his brother Tom visited him and found him in an extremely happy mood, but Tom, fearful of what future events might bring, anxiously asked if he realised the full extent of his responsibilities. Liam confidently replied, ‘I’ll be able for it. There is great scope.’ His life and his life’s ambition, as far as he was concerned, was only beginning.9

  1 Letter to Tom, 1/11/1917 (Lynch private family papers).

  2 Letter to Tom, 9/11/1917 (Lynch private family papers).

  3 Ibid.

  4 Fermoy Battalion – Fermoy, Kilworth, Araglin, Rathcormac, Water­grass­hill, GlenviIle, Ballynoe, Bartlemy, and Castlelyons.

  5 Vol. 1., No. 2., September 1918.

  6 Twenty Battalions with an average of eight companies each, and a total strength of about 8,000 men made up the brigade.

  7 Cork No. 1 was in the centre extending from Youghal to the Kerry border beyond Ballyvourney and including the city; Cork No. 3 was in the west of the county, and Cork No. 2 in the north of the county.

  8 The brigade area extended from the Cork/Waterford border near Tal­low, on the east, to the Kerry border at Rathmore in the west and from Milford in the north almost to Donoghmore in the south. Once the brigade was formed George Power, adjutant began to build up an intelligence service.

  9 Lynch private family papers.

  4. Love and marriage postponed for Roisín Dubh

  The first Dáil Éireann assembled in the Mansion House, Dublin, on 21 January 1919. Every elected representative was invited to be present but only the Republicans attended. Of the seventy-three, thirty-four, including De Valera and Griffith, were ‘absent’ in jail. The Dáil was declared an illegal assembly; prohibition by the British parliament necessitated its members holding meet­ings in secret.

  On 21 January also Séamus Robinson, Dan Breen and the other volunteers from Tipperary ambushed some council men who, escorted by police, were taking gelignite to a quarry. Two policemen were shot and the cargo secured.

  As the RIC (Royal Irish Constabulary) scoured the country and arrested volunteers and Sinn Féin members, it became ob­vious that the British government wanted these new-found ‘trouble­­makers’ in custody.

  Soon Liam Lynch took the decision to recondition his bri­gade. With unswerving zeal, he visited his battalion every Sun­day afternoon and made personal contact with almost every offi­cer under his command, and also with the large numbers of volun­teers in all parts of his area. Wherever he went, men were im­pressed by his dignified soldierly stature, his sincerity, his understanding and above all his enthusiasm. His outlook was positive and he tended to think highly of most people. He had a stubborn strength and determination, which was not apparent at first sight. This helped him to forge ahead and give himself unreservedly to the service and the cause of freedom. Fluent in speech he would on occasion, when angry, stutter over a word, but this was balan­ced by his foresight and original, constructive opinions; men felt it an honour to serve under him. He was adaptable, quick-witted and shrewd, with a broad vision and balanced judgement.

  Liam Lynch was now twenty-five. A man with a creative mind, imagination and foresight, he could accurately sum up a situation and be relied on to use sound judgement when faced with the unexpected. His approach was always thorough and methodical. He was alert to the many problems his battalion might encounter when involved in open combat. One of his comrades Paddy O’Brien described him as ‘an able, active, un­selfish worker for the cause; his heart and soul was in everything he did. He was in all respects, a true leader, a born leader’. As time progressed, his leadership qualities became more evident despite his shyness. ‘His dynamic personality was the driving force which compelled all of us in the volunteers to get things done, and done effectively,’ said Matt Flood, who had been on active service in the British army and whose expertise Liam sought to coach the members of the battalion in the correct use of weaponry.

  At council meetings he was always careful to listen to all opinions and to take notes; those present found that he never in­terrupted the programme but would discuss whatever had arisen before the meeting closed. Though often ready to make allow­ances, he was intolerant of slackness or negligence. He ini­ti­ated a unique system of asking for improvement with sugges­tions in writing from volunteers, so that the organisation could develop its fitness for battle and work in an all-round spirit of friendliness. He was quick to give credit for useful suggestions and would put them into operation when possible. At confe­rences he tried to express the importance of a resumption of the armed conflict.

  His life was now dedicated to his volunteer work to the exclusion of all other interests. He attended every meeting and every parade. ‘Sometimes he would wake one of us in the middle of the night to discuss a problem. He used to say that his brain appeared to be on fire and he couldn’t sleep,’ Paddy O’Brien re­calls.

  From his earliest association with the volunteers he had thought of Ireland in terms of a nation as a whole. Taking a broad view, he made contacts and exchanged ideas with a neighbouring command. In the early days he made frequent visits to the brigade officers in the other Cork areas, also Limerick, Water­­ford and Tipperary; at great personal risk he continued to visit head­quarters in Dublin. Some of his comrades said he had ‘a type of missionary zeal’ – a thinker who looked beyond the conflict of the day, and yet a soldier. ‘Thoughts of love and marriage he put aside so that nothing might stand between him and complete dedication in service to the duties he envisaged, although the love and prayers of a devoted lady went with him through all the days of strife, constant and faithful to the end he was not in­different.’1

  Bridie Keyes, a vibrant, dynamic young girl whom he met through Irish classes, would remain faithful to him. He had be­gun learning Irish seriously, and was making great progress, but because ‘the tempo’ of the movement had increased he couldn’t continue, but he did complete the first course. Seán Ó Tuama re­sponding to his query on the best method of becoming fluent in Irish, suggested six months in the Gaeltacht when hostilities had ceased. Liam said he would do that. Later he told Siobhán Cree­don that he had ‘done one thing anyway’, he had got Bridie Keyes to continue to attend these Irish classes in Fermoy.

  During this period, Conradh na Gaeilge often ran ceilís and concerts in Mallow. At these, false names were always given by the men and the women who were in the ‘movement’. Accord­ing to Siobhán Creedon (one of the organisers), ‘Liam was tall, hand­some and very distinguished looking; we had many en­quiries as to who he was.’ He was teased ‘relentlessly’ about this and George Power and Maurice Twomey who worked with him ‘got a lot of quiet fun about the ladies’ interest in him’. However, there was just the one girl to whom he was particularly attracted. ‘I am doing a great line these times,’ he wrote to his brother.2Periodically, he would meet her, and when he did, their court­ship was often brief, though there were times when he talked ‘through his problems’ with her. These periods of intimacy went on for hours, eating into his time of sleep in one of his many hide-outs. Then as a precautionary measure they postponed seeing each other.

  Some weeks after the course finished Liam told George Power that he wanted to meet Bridie Keyes again. George, with Siobhán Creedon, decided that they would get her to come to Creedon’s home, so they arranged for a visit one Sunday afternoon. George and Siobhán laid plans, checked railway time-tables and made contact with Liam’s friends in Fermoy. Then on ‘a fresh early autumn Sunday’ in 1919, George Power brought Bridie from Mal­­­low station to the Creedon’s home in Mourne Abbey. Liam was there. Bridie was
, according to Siobhán Cree­don, a tall, at­tractive-looking girl, ‘very elegant in navy and white, and like Liam, gentle and quietly spoken. After lunch, she and Liam walked on the farm through our beloved Glen, while George and the family talked and told stories in the kitchen. When Liam and Bridie returned tea was ready. There was little talk during tea and when George left with Bridie for the train, Liam went to work on a pile of papers in the parlour. Somehow the bright, golden even­ing had lost its sparkle, and the feeling of deep sorrow stole over it. George returned and went straight away to work with Liam. In their usual fashion, they worked until suppertime.’

  Speaking of marriage in a letter to Tom, his brother, Liam said, ‘my whole time is required by Old Ireland.’3

  Siobhán and George never discussed that day again. ‘We both knew that these two wonderful people has postponed their happiness’ to serve Ireland’s need. ‘A lovely young girl had had to give her place to mother Ireland,’ according to Siobhán who believed that, ‘the sacrifice made by Bridie Keyes was total. She was never to know the fulfilment of her dream of happiness, but was to take her place with Sarah Curran, and with the genera­tions of Irish women who stood aside for the cause of Roisín Dubh.’4

  1 Paddy O’Brien, author interview, 6/8/75; Matt Flood, author interview, 28/3/80; Florence O’Donoghue, No Other Law, p. 40.

  2 Letter to Tom 9/11/1917 (Lynch private family papers).

  3 Letter to Tom 6/3/1922 (Lynch private family papers).

  4 Interview with Siobhán Creedon Langford; also Siobhán Creedon Lang­ford, The Hope and the Sadness.

  5. Military activity continues

  Liam Lynch’s dedication to the cause of an Irish Republic never wavered. One of his companions said that ‘when at times he would get a little ruffled, he somehow was capable of not allow­ing this to take precedence. At all times, he tried to be cool and calm and calculated so that nothing would cloud his judge­ment.’1

  Liam did not allow the policy of terror (burnings, lootings, torture of prisoners, execution of innocent people) to adversely influence his own actions. He expressed his belief ‘that the ser­vice of freedom only stood below the service of God.’ He was, however, now finding it difficult to see a way forward, and he had the additional burden of being pressed to action by men who felt they had been cheated of an opportunity in 1916. With this in mind, Liam visited Dublin in April 1919 to put forward some proposals for the Cork No. 2 brigade and to try to get some arms. He got a few revolvers, but, to his disappointment, did not get any rifles. It became quite clear to him that the Cork brigades, if they wanted to get involved in any action, would have to arm themselves by capturing arms from the enemy.

  All southern brigades now put pressure on GHQ to approve a policy of attacks on British garrison forces in order to acquire arms, as there seemed to be no other prospect of obtaining them. The destiny of the volunteer movement rested on the turn of such events, and it was officers like Liam Lynch who initiated such a move. It depressed him that GHQ would not take any great responsibility and were not forthcoming with any ideas for the securing of arms. He wanted a defined policy because he felt that without one, it would be difficult to maintain discipline. Raids had taken place in other parts of Cork, particularly in the Third West Cork brigade area where rifles had been captured, therefore he felt this policy should become more widespread.

  Early in 1919 Con Leddy who was O/C of Araglin company came to Barry’s of Fermoy where Liam worked and requested a raid on Araglin barracks. Liam made the inspection and ob­tained sanction from GHQ. On Sunday morning 20 April 1919, when three of the four RIC men occupying the barracks were at mass, a party of seven volunteers approached the building from the rear. When the constable, who was the only occupant of the post, went out for a bucket of water the volunteers entered and, on his return, held him up. He reacted quickly, and threw the bucket of water at them. He then ran down the yard and shout­ed, he gave the impression he was armed and he would shoot all of them. However, Liam and the other volunteers cleared the barracks of its arms, ammunition, equipment and documents – everything of military value was removed. The unarmed con­stable afterwards expressed thanks to the volunteers for the way they had treated him and he never subsequently attempted to identify them.

  On 13 May 1919 Seán Hogan of the Third Tipperary brigade was rescued from a police escort at Knocklong railway station. The two volunteers, Ned O’Brien and Jim Scanlon who were wound­ed during the rescue came into Ballyporeen in the Mitchels­­town area where a doctor attended them and they were given accommodation. This brought intensive raiding by the British forces to Cork No. 2 area. Liam asked Tom Kavanagh to drive him at night to Ballyporeen where they picked up the two passengers and set out for a house near Tallow. They avoided Mitchelstown, but, as they passed by Moorepark Camp outside Fermoy, a sentry challenged them. Liam determined to get through, ordered Tom to drive on. The sentry fired, but the occupants of the car escaped injury and got to William Aherne, a chemist, who dressed the men’s wounds. Then Liam arranged for the men’s protection; because of continuous raiding, he had them moved several times while they were recuperating.

  He had been to Dublin headquarters at the end of April 1919 to obtain sanction for activities in his brigade. Now he de­cided to contact Cork No. 1 brigade in order to co-ordinate acti­vities. In July, HQ informed him that he could disarm any mili­tary party, provided there were no casualties. He could now organise an open attack on British military forces by striking at the core of the enemy’s most powerful stronghold in Fermoy, his brigade area. (British forces had 4,300 military and approximately 490 armed police within his brigade area).2

  The police, who had an intimate knowledge of the popu­lation, had been keeping a close watch on activities. These op­posing forces were housed in well-fortified and comfortable bar­racks. The ranks included officers who were experienced vete­rans of the European war and most of the troops had re­ceived ade­quate military training. They were armed with modern weapons and backed by administrative and supply services on a war foot­ing. In contrast, Liam Lynch had under his command 3,800 partially-trained volunteers, none on whole-time active service. They were, nevertheless, excellently organised, efficient, disci­plined and responsible, but they had no pay, no barracks with supply services; they had only their own clothing, and were under continuous pressure trying to meet and train in secret. They had no heavy weapons and their arms consisted of a dozen or so rifles, some of doubtful reliability and less than 100 revol­vers and pistols. Their back-up services (engineers, signallers, trans­port, in­telligence and medical) were mainly non-professionals. How­ever, what they lacked in material needs they made up for by courage and determination, with the addition of one vital ele­ment which the enemy did not have – the backing of the people.

  Liam meticulously planned his first trial of strength against the enemy. On Sundays an armed party of British soldiers at­tended service at the Wesleyan church about a half a mile from their barracks which was situated at the eastern end of Fermoy. Liam did not know whether or not the rifles they carried were loaded, consequently he decided they would carry out the raid under the as­sumption that they were loaded. On Sunday morn­ing 7 Sep­tember 1919, fourteen soldiers with a corporal in charge, left their barracks and marched through the town towards the Wes­leyan church. In the vicinity of the church about twenty-five volun­teers from Fermoy company with six serviceable re­volvers be­tween them assembled in groups of twos and threes. Larry Con­don was in charge of the main attacking party, which in­cluded John Fanning, Michael Fitzgerald, Patrick Aherne and James Fitzgerald. Liam had detailed other groups to collect the rifles and rush them to the waiting car. The rest were to close in from the rear and prevent the British getting back to their bar­racks. The unarmed volunteers carried short clubs concealed in their coat sleeves. George Power was in charge of one car, which stood near the church, and with another man pretended to fix the car. Behind the British party another car moved up Patric
k Street; this car, which carried Liam, was to increase its speed and arrive at the church at the same time as the British forces. So far, everything was going according to plan.

  Liam had given much thought to the selection of officers and men for this raid. Because it was to take place in daylight it was inevitable that well-known local officers and men taking part would afterwards have to go ‘on the run’ to evade arrest. Local people, especially those with cars were needed in case of casualties. Because the men under Liam’s command were poorly armed at the time, speed was an integral part of the operation. Though the brunt of the action was borne by the Fermoy com­pany, Liam sought help from other companies. Four men tra­vel­led with George Power from Mallow.3Jack Mulvey of Rath­cor­mac gave his own Ford car and brought four men from the Bally­noe company.4Martin O’Keefe and Willie O’Mahony of Bally­noe travelled on bicycles. Pax Whelan, of the Waterford brigade, gave a third car, which also carried two volunteers – George Lenihan and Mick Mansfield. (The driver, not a volun­teer, be­came suspicious shortly after their arrival in Fermoy and headed back for Dungarvan before the action took place.)

  The military arrived at the church at the same time as Liam’s car. Liam blew a whistle and called on the party to surrender. They prepared to resist. The volunteers rushed them. Shots were fired and for a minute there was a confused struggle. Liam jump­ed for a rifle on the road, slipped and fell. A military man who rushed him swinging a rifle butt, was shot down. Liam picked up the rifle. In a short time, the struggle was over. Fifteen rifles were loaded into one car, which was then driven up the Tallow/ Lis­more road, its occupants could hear the bugle call in the bar­racks. The volunteers on foot scattered quickly. One of the mili­tary had been killed and three wounded. The response to the barracks’ alarm was so immediate and within five minutes, two lorries carrying military were tearing out the Lismore road. This eventuality had been foreseen, therefore at Carrickbuick, a mile and a quarter from the town, two roadside trees had been partly sawn through and held in position by ropes. Under cover volun­teers waited for the cars carrying the rifles to pass, imme­diately they knocked the trees across the road, forcing the pur­suing mili­tary to detour and lose the trail.