Ireland in Travail

by Joice NanKivell Loch; Sydney Loch

Although she held extreme views and had suffered for them, I found her far less bitter in her statements about the enemy than the sympathisers who gave sympathy as a sole contribution to the movement. She spoke of the Crown Forces in a professional manner as part of the obstacles to be got out of the way. She would have shown them no mercy; but she bore them no more rancour than was necessary. She was used to dealing with them, knew all the tricks of the trade, and made use of her advantages.

This same Mrs. Fitzgerald, I came to find out, mother of three children, woman of so many duties that she went at a jog-trot in the streets, this Mrs. Fitzgerald was a most romantic person. Her first hero had been Padraig Pierce, a leader of the 1916 Rising, and she had called one of her boys after him. The man to fill his place was Michael Collins, Mick as she called him, the Republican Minister of Finance, who used to be spoken of as “a certain minister,” the phrase whispered from person to person, as if his name spoken aloud would blast the lips that uttered it.

She spoke quite simply of being battered from pillar to post, of having her household gods damaged, of doing without them, of the frequent difficulty of getting a roof over her head, yet I believe she thought wistfully now and then of the fleshpots she had given up for the Republic. She reminded me of those women who have been drudges for the sake of their children, and who point fiercely at what they have produced when some scented, jewelled creature passes by.

I have spoken of her at length, because she represented a type of Irish woman whose sincerity and generosity could not be denied.

Seldom a day went by without sound of explosion near or far, seldom a night went through without shooting, it might be an intermittent shot or two or a sudden volley breaking out wildly on the quiet, followed by desultory shooting, growing fainter as the exchange of shots passed down distant streets.

It was too early yet for the weather to be charitable, for days to lengthen appreciably or nights to shorten; but one had the fancy that the sun was on the way back from happier lands, and when it returned peace might come with it, that honourable peace without which neither side would stay a hand, that honourable peace which seemed so impossible to conceive and to bring about.

It was a case of wish being father to the thought, for matters were continuing to go from bad to worse. The Republican Volunteers appeared to be adopting a bolder policy, and some of the skirmishes which took place deserved the name. From the private citizen’s point of view, the situation had become a great deal worse. Volunteers had taken to ambushing the military lorries in the streets, and this method of campaign was the last drop in the cup of woe of the peace-loving person.

The arguments the Republicans put forward for this step were sufficiently sound in their way. They declared the enemy used the streets on their work of raid and arrest, and obtained special protection. Where the Republican policy was most open to criticism was in the fact that the Volunteers made flagrant use of the protection afforded by the crowd.

The Volunteers could have operated in deserted places, the outlying streets and so on; but such a course increased personal risks. There was greater likelihood of discovery from loitering, there was more chance of coming under the return fire from police lorries, and the neighbouring getaways would not be good. When a busy street was decided on, it was chosen for its escapes, for the opportunities afforded the ambushers of mingling with the crowd until the chosen moment, and thirdly, because, after the attack, the Volunteers could become the crowd again, and the ambushed troops would not know where to shoot.

In nine cases out of ten it was the inoffensive citizen who paid the penalty of other people’s political views. In the exchange of fire some harassed bystander was generally brought to the ground. Finally, public nerves were so stretched that sudden explosions brought about stampedes, and it is on record that the backfire of a motorcycle caused women near at hand to faint.