Tom Barry (24 page)

‘He won't come, it doesn't suit him to come out,' they said.

‘It doesn't suit him to come out,' said Barry exasperated. ‘I'll get him down.'

Barry raced across the boreen to the presbytery, heaved in the door and rushed up the stairs. In the bedroom he told the startled priest ‘in blue pyjamas' to ‘Get down to the graveyard and say the prayers over Charlie Hurley.'

Up to a 100 rifle-men formed a guard of honour as the priest performed the ceremony. From the church the men with rifles reversed ‘slow-marched to the graveyard, with Charlie's body in their midst. I have seen many pathetic scenes in a not uneventful life, but the memory of that night's burial remains foremost. Perhaps it may be that because Charlie was my great comrade and I loved him greatly, the scene was seared into my memory. It is still fresh and clear – the dirge of the war pipes played by Flor Begley, the slow march of the brigade flying column, the small group of only six other mourners, the rain-soaked sky and earth and the wintry moon that shone as we followed him to his grave.' Begley's war-pipes caoined a lament. The priest spoke the prayers. Barry ordered his men to ‘Present arms'. They fired three volleys and the
Last Post
cut the air. Then Tom Barry spoke a final tribute to his friend, comrade-in-arms and gallant hero. Those who were present have called this ‘a sad memorable occasion' – the laying to rest of their brigade commandant.

Tom Barry crossed the graveyard and spoke to Leslie Price, the girl Charlie had asked him ‘to take care of'. A strip cut from the end-length of the tricolour, which draped the coffin, was rolled up ribbon-like and in a touching gesture, Tom ceremoniously handed it to Leslie.
[47]

Almost 60 years later in a hospital bed she recalled Tom's kindness as they both shed some tears at the graveside that night – both had lost a true friend.

Weighed down with their thoughts the column set out again at 3.30 a.m. and marched to cross the dangerous Clonakilty-Bandon main road before dawn broke. Around 7.30 a.m. they reached Ahiohill eight miles away, having had an almost continuous march of 32 miles without food or sleep. The column retired to billets, exhausted.

Notes

The success at Crossbarry brought new hope to the IRA all over Ireland. Other areas looked towards the Rebel County for inspiration to continue. Barry, though only 23 years of age, was by now ‘one of the big generals of the struggle against the British.'
[1]
The morale of the Third West Cork Brigade was particularly high. Although one-third of the British forces in Ireland were concentrated in the Cork area, the British still found that it was not enough. Garrisons in West Cork were again strengthened. The papers of the following day carried conflicting reports but all admitted heavy losses for the British forces and that three lorries had been destroyed (according to the Cork Examiner), three more retreated to Innishannon and Crossbarry and reinforcements had met with similar misadventures from the attackers.
[2]

Several houses in the region were raided and ransacked. Four Republican farmhouses in the Crossbarry vicinity were burned, including O'Mahony's of Belrose, brigade headquarters and Jerh Delaney's and Tom Kelleher's. A few weeks later two more Republican houses were burned. IRA reprisal resulted in the burning of eight Loyalists' homes. This action put a stop to burnings for the time being, Barry recalls.
[3]

In a propaganda piece General Strickland reversed the story when he stated that his men had burned houses as ‘a reprisal for the burning of Loyalist houses at Crossbarry', and would continue with this policy. ‘If two Loyalists houses are burned three Sinn Féin Houses will be burned officially and if that does not stop, six Sinn Féin houses will probably be burned.'
[4]

British newspapers reacted strongly to the ‘Rebel forces' and their ‘effrontery in playing the bagpipes'.
[5]
The Cork Examiner tells of the British forces retreating at three points and that after the ambush the road was ‘strewn with dead and wounded'.
[6]
British garrisons in West Cork reacted by lengthening the curfew period in many towns. It was now fixed at 7 p.m. in Bandon. This did not hinder Tom Barry and his men. A few days after the announcement of the 7 p.m. curfew order, Barry entered Bandon at 10 p.m. with a few men to shoot a spy. Through their intelligence network they were aware of his movements and he was shot as he walked down the street. Indeed so respected was this agent that a compulsory order to close all business houses in Bandon on the day of the funeral was issued.
[7]

Now that Charlie Hurley was dead, it meant that the brigade officers had to choose a commandant to look after matters at headquarters. Liam Deasy, the adjutant, knew every company in the unit, had experience in reports and communications between brigade and GHQ, and was the obvious choice. He travelled to Dublin with Dick Barrett to have the appointment sanctioned.

Tom Barry now set his sights on Rosscarbery Barracks. Michael Collins had said, ‘The most difficult barracks in Ireland to take is Rosscarbery'. He doubted if it would ever be captured as the enemy had boasted that it was well fortified and could not be penetrated. So Tom decided he would let his former neighbour see that nothing was impossible for the men of the Third West Cork Flying Column.

Tom Kelleher had been detailed to bring 60 pounds of gun cotton and 40 pounds of tonnite from a store in Bandon. In what can only be described as a daring venture, his sister Ellen, dressed in old clothes, took a horse and cart into the town to bring out the materials. At Murphy's Hardware she collected the material, covered it over with loaves of bread and other groceries and drove off down South Main Street past the soldiers. At Sutton's Corner she was stopped. While a soldier was searching the cart she gave the horse a little pick, and off he went leaving the soldier standing.
[8]

Other material for the mine and bombs was collected from Berehaven. Barry was delighted when the ingredients arrived safely and he instructed Charles McCarthy, their newly acquired bomb-making expert, to make sure that this one wouldn't fail, as Rosscarbery Barracks had to be taken. Tim O'Donoghue and the men ‘worked' at John O'Mahony's house. ‘Anyone listening to the banter and joking as we worked would never have realised we were going into action in such a short time.' The camaraderie kept up their morale and for Tom Barry there was personal pride and integrity involved, as GHQ in Dublin would be viewing the situation.
[9]

Four days after Crossbarry, 22 March 1921, Barry was in Ahiohill outside Clonakilty where he had mobilised 70 rifle-men, some of whom had taken part in Crossbarry, but most of whom were newly-trained or who had been involved in other actions in the West Cork area. With Jim Hurley, who had been hurt destroying a bridge in Clonakilty earlier in the month, Barry and his column set out on Wednesday morning, 23 March, and arrived in position at a railway line five miles outside Clonakilty and prepared to attack a train of British troops scheduled to travel from Clonakilty to Skibbereen. It was, however, an enemy trick. They had booked carriages, knowing the IRA would hear of it, but instead travelled by road. Barry said that when this news reached them, ‘We grinned, conceded them a point for being able to fool us, and immediately withdrew.'

That night the column moved again. The British forces knew there was activity in the area and started a rounding-up process. For five days Barry and his column zigzagged through the country, avoiding capture or confrontation. It was bitterly cold and began to snow heavily, and despite sleeping only in sheds and with little food, it did not deter Barry and his men. They reached Benduff, three miles outside Rosscarbery on 30 March. In the evening Tim O'Donoghue, Tom Kelleher and a few more men arrived with some of the well-made mines and explosives.

The column were paraded at 9 p.m. and told for the first time that the actual target was Rosscarbery Barracks, and that they were to move off at midnight. Barry outlined the plan. So that there would be no misunderstanding he repeated the detailed duties of each section several times. He had learned from the error of the man who allowed himself to be seen by the enemy at Crossbarry. Three groups of five rifle-men were detailed to cut telegraph wires and block roads, mainly by felling trees on all the roads into Rosscarbery from the garrison towns of Skibbereen, Dunmanway and Clonakilty. Those groups moved off at 11 p.m. The cutting of the wires was to commence at 1 a.m. precisely, ten minutes before the opening of the attack.

The main body, 55 strong, was to be led by an assault force of 10 officers and men, each armed with rifle and two pistols. This detachment would lay the mine against the barracks' door and storm into the building after it exploded. Ten more men would follow them carrying torches of paraffin-soaked sacking, which were to be thrown into the barracks to expose the targets. The third group of 12 would cover the back and sides of the building to prevent the garrison from emerging. A fourth detachment of 12 rifle-men was sub-divided into three groups of four to hold the roads in the immediate town vicinity in case of surprise enemy reinforcement, and also to prevent any informer from leaving the town. The fifth group of the remaining 11 rifle-men was to act as a reserve party. Immediately the attack commenced, they ordered all the shops that sold petrol and paraffin to open and put the fuel into a dozen buckets and bottles. Tom Moloney and James Hayes of the local company were given revolvers and were to act as guides.

Barry had prepared for every possibility and provided the explosives worked, the night should be theirs. The barracks was strongly fortified with barbed wire and steel shutters and stood apart from other houses. The defenders numbered 22 war-service experienced men who had been seen, during exercise periods, bringing a machine-gun onto the roof. The Volunteers were prepared for this.

Barry says he was prepared to lose several men if necessary to destroy this base because if this barracks was destroyed, it would mean the IRA would have an area of roughly 270 square miles free of the enemy and could use it as a base because the majority of the people in the area were behind them. As was usual before a major attack, Barry remained alone with his thoughts to plan for any eventuality, but he knew, as with all guerrilla warfare, chances must be taken. He knew Rosscarbery well, the place of his childhood, and his mind returned to these events ‘to ease the strain of waiting' until it was time to move.
[10]

The column moved off at midnight. A mile outside Rosscarbery they were halted, ordered to remove their boots and tie them on to their back equipment. The mine and bombs were taken from a farm cart and the explosive put on to a churn stand. Tom Kelleher remembers the problem they had when Volunteers were called to take the explosive on the first leg of the journey. It was to be shouldered like a coffin, but one Volunteer was too tall and tilted the sensitive explosive at a dangerous angle, so Barry decided to pick even-sized men. It was a hard decision because he could be sending men to their death, rather than their volunteering to take the front line.
[11]

All bootless the flying column padded into Rosscarbery. In fact so successful was their movement that not one inhabitant in the town knew they had moved in. By this time the snow had stopped, but as they were very wet, the cold and the hunger didn't bother them. They took up their allotted positions at 1.10 a.m. precisely.

The first task was to ascertain if there was any sign of enemy awareness of a forthcoming attack. Then they had to find out if the little gate to the entrance of the pathway to the barracks was locked. Barry removed his equipment and wriggled on his stomach to investigate. The gate was not locked but the latch was down. He retraced his snail-like movements. Jack Corkery, Peter Kearney, Christy O'Connell and Tom Kelleher moved gingerly with the 80-pound bomb carried coffin-like; each held a revolver in his free hand.

Denis Lordan applied a lighted candle to both fuses simultaneously.

‘As far I can remember the explosive was timed for seven minutes. It was spurting fire into the air. Barry ran in front of us, snapped the latch, opened the gate and bolted ahead. The path had barbed wire at both sides. It was so narrow our stockinged-feet were in, and our free shoulder out. I put my hand against the barracks' door. We had been warned to leave it down very, very slowly, as it was extremely sensitive. Sparks were flying as we put it against the door. Barry and Mick Crowley had a flat stone; they pushed it under, to tilt it forward', Tom Kelleher recalled.

‘Of all the tests of men's courage in guerrilla warfare, that of carrying a mine across an open space on a bright night and properly placing it against an enemy post is, in my opinion, the greatest', Barry wrote.

‘The men had been warned to come back in single file; if they rushed they might get stuck in the barbed wire. As the last man left the path, they threw themselves down and blocked their ears. The roar of the explosion vibrated the vicinity in a matter of seconds.

‘I never saw anything like it. The windows and doors stood in mid-air and fell to the ground. Some of us had been picked to rush the barracks, but we hadn't a hope. It was full of smoke.'
[12]

The men of the column were instructed to put their alternative plan into action, though their surroundings cramped them slightly, as getting into firing position was difficult.

The explosion had blown the roof off an evacuated house across the road. Barry ordered four rifle-men back to this house to fire at the upper windows of the barracks. (Four of the column had invaded the post office and destroyed the telephone and telegraphic system.) The volume of enemy fire was great. Barry lobbed his Mills bomb, which exploded in the hallway, but soon this only brought a strong reply from the garrison.

Though it was not a dark night, still, they had to keep some of their sacking burning so that the target would be visible. The enemy began to lob bombs, but according to Barry they forgot to follow the usual practice of counting two before throwing a Mills bomb at a near-by target. As the attackers were within yards of the building, they were able to lie flat to protect their heads until each explosion went off. Barry and his men counted the seconds, lit their home-made canister bombs by candle, and lobbed them forward. And so a bombing duel commenced, with each side using rifle, revolvers and bombs.

Tim O'Donoghue feared for Barry's life, as he was ‘for hours dodging bombs, throwing in bombs, paraffin,' shooting, without a break and often exposed in the open from the glare of the flames.

‘We'll soon be without a commander', O'Donoghue shouted to Jim Hurley. ‘Not at all; he has a charmed life', Hurley shouted back. The intensity of the fighting continued.

It was two hours before the garrison abandoned the ground floor, but they continued to fight from the upper storey. Some of the column, by this time, had entered the barracks and tried to bring down the ceiling by exploding seven-pound charges, but the stone building was a solid structure. Heavy rifle-fire came down the stairs. Barry then set fire to the stairs. Soon it was wrapped in flames, but the garrison still held out.

After an action that lasted almost five hours, the garrison surrendered. To prevent the future use of their arms and ammunition by the IRA they threw them into the flames on the lower floor. Having lowered their wounded from a back window, the rest followed them into the back garden to await their fate at the hands of their captors. Two constables lost their lives and were burned in the flames, and nine were wounded. Tom Barry praised these British military as throughout the conflict ‘this garrison had not killed or wounded a single citizen, nor had they burned houses, or effected any arrests. They were unique in this respect.' He said they fought exceptionally well and defended their barrack to the end.

Barry ordered some column men to take them to neighbouring houses where they received medical treatment. He sent an escort with more to the nearby Convent of Mercy. All Barry wanted in this attack was to destroy the barracks so that they would have a hide-out area for the Volunteers. He didn't want to kill any of this force, whom, he said, ‘never ran amok'.