Further, they wanted to know what terms had been made with regard to their comrades who had fallen into the hands of the I.R.A.
The Loyalists were staggered, knowing that their worst fears would now be realised; to be handed over to the murder gang, which was the reward the cynics in the Dublin clubs had always prophesied, would be England’s return for the efforts of the Loyalists during the war. However, they could say nothing and do nothing, but simply make the best of their fate.
The neutrals, most of whom had changed their flag as often as the British Government had changed its mind, now, of course, openly threw in their lot with Sinn Fein.
The townspeople and farmers openly rejoiced at the prospect of even a temporary peace, though in their hearts many of them knew that there could be no real peace in Ireland until the gunmen had been wiped out or reduced to a state of impotence by disarming them. However, the future could take care of itself as far as they were concerned.
For the first few days of the Truce the Sinn Feiners appeared to be doubtful whether their wonderful good luck could be really true, and consequently lay low. Then men and boys who had been on the run for many moons returned to Ballybor, and gave an exhibition of “See the Conquering Hero Comes” in the streets daily; among them men wanted badly for atrocious murders, who now snapped their fingers openly in the faces of the police. A policeman could not walk the streets of Ballybor without meeting these swaggering fellows, who openly laughed and jeered at them when they passed.
However, a considerable number did not return, and on their relations inquiring about their whereabouts from the I.R.A. liaison officer, they were told they never would come back.
Gradually, being sure they were indeed safe, and that in truth they had the British Government on the run instead of being on the run themselves, they grew bolder and more insolent.
One brute went up to the sentry outside the police barracks and deliberately spat on him, hoping no doubt that the constable would lose his temper and break the truce. The constable stepped into the barracks and returned at once with the Sinn Fein flag, with which he carefully wiped the offending stains off his face and tunic under the nose of the astonished gunman. He then proceeded to stand on the flag in the mud, and asked the gunman, “What about it?” For some seconds the gunman stood irresolute, then turned and walked off, looking a complete ass, followed by the loud laughter of the police.
From now the Republicans proceeded to take over the government of the district, the police standing by helpless, bound hand and foot by the strict order that on no account were they to disturb the peace atmosphere. How the Boches must be laughing at us!
In every parish Republican Courts were advertised to be held in the local papers, and were held without let or hindrance, the advertisements stating that “Summons, &c., can be had on application to ——, Clerk of the Court.” And why not? Had not the I.R.A. beaten Lloyd George to his knees, and was not the British Government on the run?