At this time I had to keep moving from place to place more rapidly, as England was now pouring troops into the country by thousands. The jails and penal settlements of Britain were being scoured for recruits for the Black and Tans, who were given every assurance by their chiefs that they need have no fears they would ever suffer for letting themselves loose on a campaign of murder, loot and arson. And they took the hint.
I spent a few days at the lovely home of Bob Barton, T.D., in the Glen of Wicklow. Later I went farther south again, and finally, a few days before Christmas of 1920, I found myself back again in my own brigade area in South Tipperary.
Here I met all the old comrades again—Seumas Robinson, Dinny Lacey, Sean Hogan, Sean O’Meara and many others. I was feeling strong again, but by doctor’s orders I was not allowed to walk any considerable distance.
The war was now at its height. Our columns were moving about in broad daylight with their rifles on their shoulders, welcomed everywhere by the people, whose offence in harbouring us was punishment by death. The enemy now only ventured from their strongholds in the towns when they were in hundreds, accompanied by dozens of armoured cars. The British machinery of Government was completely wrecked. British courts were deserted while litigants flocked to the Republican Courts to get justice, even though a long term of imprisonment was the penalty for anyone found in one of our courts. The orders of the English Government Departments were ignored by all our public bodies. In a word, England’s only claim to rule Ireland at this time was that she had about one hundred thousand armed criminals in the country dressed as soldiers and police.
I spent a while in the neighbourhood of Solohead, and later went on towards Cahir and Rosegreen. Most of the remaining period of the war I passed in that part of the county, round Fethard, Cahir and Rosegreen direction. Our columns were now busy fighting every day, and about this time we put into practice the idea of having elaborate dugouts for sleeping accommodation and for concealing arms. These underground resting places had very narrow entrances, barely large enough to admit a man’s body.
In April, 1921, we were in Cahir district when our Brigade Intelligence officer reported that it had become usual for a convoy of British troops to pass between Clogheen and Cahir every Wednesday morning. We decided to ambush this convoy on 22nd April. Word was sent to the columns to mobilise at the spot chosen for the attack. Con Moloney (who became Deputy Chief of the I.R.A. Staff during the Civil War) and I arrived in the neighbourhood the previous night and fell in with our columns. At this time we travelled about in a motor car, so the reader will appreciate the change that had taken place. In 1919 when the war had not started I dare not stay in my own county, and now in 1921, when the war was at its height, I could use a motor car with comparative safety.
At 5 a.m. on the morning of the 22nd all our men rose to prepare for the ambush. It was about midway between Clogheen and Cahir. When all was ready Moloney, Lacey, Hogan and myself visited the positions.
The enemy party was expected to pass about 10 o’clock in the morning, and before that hour our men were on the alert with their guns in their hands. It was approaching 11 o’clock when we began to fear that the soldiers would not follow their usual custom; still we remained in readiness until 1 o’clock, when Con Moloney and I decided to return to Brigade Headquarters—“somewhere in South Tipperary.”
We had left the position only half an hour when the convoy came along. Our men at once called upon the enemy to surrender, but they replied by opening fire. A sharp encounter followed, in the course of which one soldier was killed and two wounded. The remainder of the party then surrendered to the I.R.A., who disarmed them, destroyed their convoy, and then released their prisoners.
Our men lost no time in retiring from the position, for the firing had probably been heard in Clogheen and Cahir, both occupied by strong British garrisons who would at once rush reinforcements into the districts. The I.R.A. were marching off with their booty, in column formation, when a single motor car, rounding a corner at a place called Curraghclooney, almost ran into the rear guard. The car was halted. Our men asked the occupant his name and got the reply, “District Inspector Potter, of the R.I.C., Cahir.”