The Real Chief - Liam Lynch

by Meda Ryan

  Liam bid Bridie and the rest a last farewell. Afterwards they would all recall this visit as he left them and headed for Jim O’Brien’s of Ballylanigan, which was approximately four miles south-west of Callan. A number of local people had helped O’Brien to build a most unusual hide-out which housed most of the im­portant Republican leaders during the Civil War – men like Tom Barry, Liam Deasy, De Valera and of course Lynch himself. It was christened ‘Katmandu’.

  ‘Katmandu’ was a room about ten by five concealed at the end of a cow shed on the farm of the brothers Michael and John Phelan. The building had corrugated-iron walls and a roof partly covered with corrugated iron and partly thatched. Access to the hide-out was through this cow shed. The opening to it was cleverly constructed and could only be opened by anyone who knew the secret. The bunk-style bed-board would hold up to fourteen men, and in a corner stood a hinged-table where many important historical documents were signed. (On one occasion, twelve men including Liam held their breaths inside while a search went on outside.)

  It was now Easter 1923. Liam had his meals at Gardiner’s but he worked and slept at ‘Katmandu’.9Despite the very serious posi­tion of the Republican forces, as outlined at the last Execu­tive meeting, Liam was determined to continue the struggle in the field and to use his policy of armed resistance until, he be­lieved, his opponents would be forced to negotiate.

  Accompanied by Frank Aiken and Seán Hyde he left ‘Kat­mandu’ on 4 April 1923 on the first leg of the journey towards Araglin. In a pony and trap Jim O’Brien brought them to Nine-Mile House and they continued southwards to the Suir which they crossed west of Carrick, joined the old route and went through the Gap into the Nire Valley where they rested at Wall’s of Knockaree and were joined next day by Bill Quirke, Seán O’Meara and Seán Hyde.

  By Sunday midnight on 8 April, they had come into the sixth battalion area of the Third Tipperary brigade near Goatenbridge. That night, while Liam was billeted at Prendergast’s, Owen McCarthy, a dispatch rider, brought a report from Araglin that over the next few days they could expect a round up in the locality. Liam felt that it was now wiser not to continue towards Araglin, so he sent the dispatch rider with these instructions to the rest of the Executive.

  Lynch and his companions, fearful that death could be around any turn, moved again that night towards the banks of the Tar River; he stayed with Frank Aiken and Seán Hyde at Michael Condons; James Condon and Bill Houlihan housed the others.10

  Before dawn on Tuesday 10 April, reports came from the scouts at Croke schoolhouse of the sighting of Free State troops – moving in two files along the grass margins on either side of the road, approaching from the Clogheen direction. Lynch and his group having been alerted, had assembled by 5 a.m. at Bill Houli­hans, which was the house nearest the mountains. Raids of this nature were an everyday occurrence; they felt they had left no tell-tale marks so they were willing to sit it out and were not un­duly ruffled.

  At about 8 a.m. a scout rushed in saying that another column of Free State troops was approaching over the mountain to their left. Their line of escape was being threatened. Leaving Bill Houli­­hans they dashed up a glen towards the mountain. Lynch and five officers, armed with revolvers and automatics, and an un­armed local volunteer, struggled through the gorse. At the head of the glen they waited momentarily for the two scouts who were armed, one with a Thompson and the other a rifle. Maurice Twomey, one of the officers records:

  We were only a few minutes at the head of the glen, with no sign of the scouts coming when the Staters’ appeared over a rise and our first shots were exchanged. We dashed on again, up the mountain, a shallow river-bed affording us cover for about 250 yards. When we reached the end of the river-bed we had to retreat up a bare coverless shoulder of mountain. This was the ‘Staters’ chance. About fifty of them had a clear view of us at between 300 and 400 yards range and they rattled away with their rifles as fast as they could work the bolts. Our return fire, with revolvers, was of course ineffective at that range; but as we staggered on up the mountain we fired an odd shot to disconcert their aim.11

  Liam and his comrades continued to move up the rise of Crow­hill. As they retreated over a bare shoulder of the Knockmeal­down mountain they were aware of their exposed position but had no option. Then the Free State troops opened fire again. Frag­­ments of rock and soil thrown up by the bullets rained on them as they struggled upwards. The men, all officers, walked or scramb­led in single formation but kept going hoping to get to the other side of the mountain out of view of the Free State troops. ‘Liam and Seán Hyde were to the rear. The “Staters” had fired over a thousand shots at us without effect, when a lull came in the fir­ing.’12

  After some seconds’ silence, in the still clear air of the morn­ing a single shot rang out. Liam fell. ‘My God! I’m hit lads,’ he said.13

  Immediately Bill Quirke and Frank Aiken, who were in front of Liam, heard the call and rushed back. They picked him up, and with Seán Hyde who had been in the rear, carried him some distance. Hyde and Quirke took his arms and Frank Aiken lifted his legs and continued, but it was evident that he was in intense pain and he begged them to leave him. But they continued to carry him; and kept saying the act of contrition. Heavy fire from the Lewis gun knocked splinters off the large rock behind which they had taken temporary shelter. After a lull, when they again prepared to resume their journey, Liam asked them to leave him. Because of their reluctance he finally ordered them to put him down and go on. ‘I’m finished,’ he said, ‘I’m dying. Perhaps they’ll bandage me when they come up.’ His companions realised it was the end. Hyde and Quirke pillowed a coat behind his head and reluctantly left him. Frank Aiken took his papers and his automatic, said another act of contrition as his life was slowly ebbing, put a coat over him then bade a final quick farewell to his friend as their enemy approached.14

  Major General John T. Prout, Waterford commanding Free State officer with headquarters at Clonmel, had heard that certain Republican leaders were in the area, consequently he or­dered a search of part of the South Tipperary and Waterford area to commence at dawn on 10 April. Over 1,000 troops were en­gaged in the search. Sixty men from Clogheen under Captain Tom Taylor and Lieut Laurence Clancy, arrived at Goatenbridge at 5 a.m. This was the party which had been observed by the scouts. Taylor had instructed his troops to drive south-east from Newcastle at dawn in a well extended formation across the moun­­tain towards Ballymacarbery where they would link up with an­other column. Taylor’s troops marched to Newcastle extended in formation up the mountain and then broke into two parts. It was the section under Lieut Clancy who saw Liam Lynch and his men and opened fire on them.

  When Lieut Clancy reached Liam, the soldier who had been covering him with a rifle shouted excitedly, ‘We’ve captured De Valera.’ Clancy knew at first glance that he was mistaken. When he looked down on the helpless prisoner he asked, ‘Are you the bloody chief-of-staff of the Irregulars?’

  ‘I am Liam Lynch, chief-of-staff of the Irish Republican Army. Get me a priest and doctor. I’m dying.’

  ‘Where are your guns?’ asked Clancy who proceeded to search him.

  ‘My friends have taken my guns,’ he answered, and then gave a painful moan.

  Clancy gave a quick search to confirm that he didn’t have a gun, and then asked where he had been hit. When Clancy looked for a field bandage, one of his soldiers refused to give ‘a diehard’ the one he was wearing. ‘I was compelled to produce my revolver to get the bandage ... which was totally inadequate for Lynch’s body, and he was suffering pain.’15

  A stretcher was improvised by tying a soldier’s greatcoat to two rifles: then began the difficult task of carrying Liam down the steep and rugged mountainside. ‘It was extremely difficult to try to keep a big heavy man on two rifles, three feet eight inches long, and in a semi-sitting position, because he could not bear to be fully stretched with his wound,’ said Lieut Clancy. In this half sitting position he was able to endure the in
tense pain. Frequ­ently he had to be rested as he was getting weaker.

  Liam was placed on a jennet and a cart filled with hay when they reached the foot of the mountain. Over the rough by-roads this mode of transport was little better for the severely wounded chief-of-staff. A disarmed soldier, whom Clancy had sent to se­cure a priest and doctor had panicked upon reaching the road; fearing that he would encounter some Republican forces he turned back. Shortly afterwards, however, Fr Patrick Hallinan, New­castle, came along. The priest was unaware of what had hap­pened but gladly administered the last rites to Liam Lynch.

  It was now about 11.30 a.m. Liam had received the bullet wound around 9 a.m. In great pain he was carried over the rugged road and reached Nugent’s public house in Newcastle around 1.30 p.m. Here Liam was put on a sofa, some blankets were placed over him, and he was given a glass of brandy. Dr Joseph Power attended to his wounds while the local parish priest, Fr John Walsh, came and prayed. Neighbours, who had gathered in the parlour, responded to the rosary, which was recited by Fr Walsh as two blessed candles flickered on the walls and on anxi­ous faces.

  Meanwhile Lieut Clancy had phoned his headquarters in Clonmel, reported the capture and asked for a doctor and ambu­lance. As they waited, Liam, in a faint voice, said to Lieut Clancy, ‘When I die tell my people I want to be buried with Fitzgerald in Fermoy ... the greatest friend I have had.’

  Clancy told him he had two brothers killed during the War of Independence, and that he himself had been arrested. Liam raised his right hand, and his eyes were filled with tears. ‘With my hand clasped in his, I too sobbed,’ said Clancy. With some difficulty Liam spoke: ‘God pray for me. All this is a pity. It should never have happened. I am glad now I am going from it all. Poor Ireland. Poor Ireland!’16

  Liam was not a man to bear any malice in life, nor now as he lay dying in enemy hands. He told Clancy what to do with the few possessions he had on him and told him to keep his silver fountain pen ‘for the way you treated me. God bless you and the boys who carried me down the hill. I am sorry for all the trouble I caused you and them.’17 (Lieut Clancy later handed over the pen with the other possessions and instructions on what was to be done with them; he asked General Prout to return the pen to him after the inquest. Clancy alleged this was not done.)

  It was 3.15 p.m. when the ambulance arrived. Liam was then taken to St Joseph’s Hospital, Clonmel, where he received good medical at­tention. But by this time he had lost too much blood and was bleeding internally.

  At 8.45 p.m. that evening he died.

  Over the next few days the uncovered oak coffin rested in the mortuary of St Joseph’s church giving an opportunity for those who could, to pay their respects.

  When his fiancée Bridie Keyes approached the coffin, she stood and looked on him. Then she held his hand and stroked his face. Her friend said that her tears were within. ‘She did not cry. Her eyes just glazed. She froze. She never expected Liam would get shot, he was such a determined person, and so strong. Bridie had a belief that he was invincible.’ Bridie moved from the locality sometime after Liam’s death. She worked in the Irish Hospital Sweepstakes’ office, and it is understood, she never mar­ried.

  Soldiers of the Free State army and members of the Cumann na mBan guarded the body by night and day. Free State offi­cers kept a watching brief on those who filed past. Because of this, many of his former comrades in arms were unable to offer a last farewell to their comrade and Chief.

  1 ‘De Valera was not however at first admitted to the meeting. He waited impatiently in another room while the members of the Executive decided whether or not they would allow him to attend’, Longford and O’Neill, p. 217.

  2 Meeting held – 24, 25, 26 March 1922.

  3 Seán Cronin, The McGarrity Papers, 21 December 1922, p. 133.

  4 Ibid. p. 135.

  5 T. Ryle Dwyer, De Valera’s Darkest Hour, p. 139.

  6 For: Tom Barry, Tom Crofts, Seán Dowling, Humphrey Murphy, Seán McSwiney; Against: Liam Lynch, Frank Aiken, Tom Derrig, Seán Hyde, Austin Stack, Bill Quirke.

  7 One of the signatories of the 1916 Proclamation – had been jailed pre­viously in England – solitary confinement with hands tied behind his back so that he had to eat his food like an animal.

  8 Gallagher papers, MS 18,375(6), National Library of Ireland, Ar­chives.

  9 Those who used this hiding place were often given meals in O’Brien’s, Treacy’s and O’Gorman’s and other houses in the locality.

  10 Michael Condon and Bill Houlihan were on duty at Goatenbridge; Ned Looney and Jim Burke on the Clogheen road; Tom McGrath and Michael Donnell at approach from Newcastle.

  11 Maurice Twomey in an interview for Evening Herald, 2 February 1972 – Interview taken from a series of articles compiled by P. J. Donaghy, Ned Murphy and Joe Kennedy.

  12 Florence O’Donoghue, No Other Law, p. 305.

  13 Ibid. See also Evening Herald, 2 February 1972.

  14 Ned Murphy recalls interview with Frank Aiken. See also Evening Herald, 31January, 1 and 2 February 1972.

  15 Statement written by Lieut Clancy – copy Lynch private family papers.

  16 Ibid.

  17 Ibid. Details of a document which was prepared by Lieut Clancy and came into the possession of the Evening Herald – Article-series com­piled by Ned Murphy, Joe Kennedy and P. J. Donaghy, 31 January, I February, 2 February 1972. Copy of the Clancy document in the Lynch family papers.

  27. Inquest and final resting

  Liam Lynch’s death, at first glance, poses no question as the bul­let, which hit him was a supposedly long-range shot from the op­posing forces. So why should its source be questioned?

  Doubtless his death came during a delicate stage of negotiations and at a time when ostensibly he was unprepared to com­promise, therefore it appears that, mainly with hindsight, specu­lation entered into discussions on the original source of the fatal bullet. Thus the question posed is whether the bullet which took Liam Lynch’s life was fired by the enemy or by a member of his accompanying party. Was the execution of the fatal shot master­minded by Republicans since he was by this time a stumbling block in any peace negotiations?

  Maurice Twomey, in an interview in An Phoblacht stated:

  Our line of retreat was thus threatened and sending word to the scouts watching to the west we dashed up a glen towards the moun­tains. On reaching the head of the glen we halted to wait for the two scouts who were armed, one with a Thompson and the other with a rifle ... We were carrying a great number of important papers which we wished to save at all costs.

  Just before he was hit Seán Hyde had been helping him ‘as he had been nearly exhausted with the run up the river-bed.’

  Twomey said:

  Our agony in the parting with our leader and Chief is something we could not easily describe ... The man who beat Strickland to the ropes died as he wished on an Irish mountain, fighting ... Who can explain why he, to save whom every man in the Republican army would have died, was killed, and not one of those who escaped? As we ran on again the ground round us was being spattered with bul­lets as thick almost as a shower of hail stones ...1

  Frank Aiken later told Ned Murphy (Free State intelligence officer) that even though they knew Lynch was badly wounded they thought they’d get him away. ‘We had almost reached the top of the difficult climb. Indeed just before he was hit we felt we could put on speed as we had the rugged climb over us.’

  Frank Aiken wrote:

  It would be impossible to describe our agony of mind in thus part­ing with our comrade and Chief. Even in the excitement of the fight we knew how terrible was the blow that had fallen on the nation and army on being deprived of his leadership. His command that we should leave him would have been disobeyed, but that the papers we carried must be saved and brought through at any cost. All would be lost if they were captured.2

  The documents concerned peace formulas, surrender terms, to­gether with hide-outs, importation of arms, contacts, flexible head­
­quarters, and several other important private documents.

  Seán Hyde recalled, ‘The bullet which got him whizzed past me. There were several times when each one of us came close to being hit, earth and bushes splashed around us. There was one occasion when a blast of gunfire rained rocks and soil along an area between us and the boys in front.’ He had no doubt but that the fatal shot came from the road below. ‘Unless you have been through the ordeal it is difficult for another person to understand the heart-tug of taking a final look at a friend, a great man, a great leader, our Chief whom we knew was dying; we had no option but to leave him which meant he would shortly be in enemy hands.’3

  The available records do not mention whether or not De Valera had arrived for the meeting and would therefore be com­pelled to retreat up the mountains with the others.

  Newspaper reports state that Lynch, when captured, is under­­stood to have stated that De Valera had made good his escape.4

  General Prout in an interview said that a young man was lying face upwards in a thick growth of mountain shrubbery, he was dangerously wounded.5His clothes were thickly stained with blood and he was bleeding from the lower part of the body.

  The Irish Independent reported:

  The news of the capture, says our correspondent, created great ex­citement in Clonmel, which was intensified when it became known that Mr De Valera had narrowly avoided capture. Accord­ing to the facts available in Clonmel yesterday afternoon troops advancing over the country at the foot of the Knockmealdown mountain in Newcastle-Ballybacon district were fired on. The troops returned the fire and Liam Lynch was captured, severely wounded. Several other leaders, including Mr De Valera and Dan Breen escaped ... When Liam Lynch was wounded his companions tried to carry him away, but owing to the hot pursuit of the troops they parted, and he was captured ... At the spot where he was wounded in the mountain, troops found top boots and hats be­longing evidently to his companions.6