THE BARRACK ATTACKS
Our new plan for more active operations against the British was, in
short, to attack them in their strongholds—the police barracks throughout
the country. The peelers were now far too cautious to patrol the roads.
They seldom if ever ventured any distance from their barracks. We
could not meet them in the open. But if the mountain would not come to
Mohammed, there was only the other thing to be done. We had got to go to
the police and attack them on their own grounds.
At this time, in the spring of 1920, they were rapidly evacuating all
outlying barracks in small places where there was a danger that the
garrison could be cut off or surprised. They were concentrating on the
larger barracks where the garrisons were strengthened and the buildings
strongly fortified with steel shutters and barbed wire entanglements.
It was at this time that the I.R.A. carried out its most intensive
simultaneous series of operations. In one night no less than about a
thousand vacated police barracks were burned to the ground—the operations
extending to every county in Ireland. In this way we prevented any
possibility that those barracks would ever again be occupied by the
enemy. A thousand links of the British military chain had been severed.
At this time the peelers had abandoned all pretence of being a police
force. They were openly and avowedly a military force not attempting to
suppress crime but holding the country by brute force for England. When
the R.I.C. uniforms disappeared from a village our I.R.A. police promptly
took over the duties that they should have discharged, and right well
they did it. The robber and the housebreaker soon learned to have for the
I.R.A. a wholesome respect he never had for the R.I.C.
If any reader unacquainted with events in Ireland at that time thinks
it incredible that a police force like the R.I.C. should have been so
shameless as to allow criminals a free hand I hope I shall convince him
by two simple facts. The first is that in cases where our men were found
to have arrested men for robbery or other forms of crime, the practice
of the British was to have the criminal released and protected and to
have the I.R.A. men sent to jail. The newspaper files with accounts of
courts-martial on our men on such charges bear out my statement. The
second fact, though never revealed in the newspapers, did not come under
my personal notice, but I have it from I.R.A. men concerned. In County
Meath a most cold-blooded murder was committed by an ex-British soldier.
The R.I.C. had clear evidence that he was guilty. They arrested him, but
did they try him? No! They released him and advised him to leave the
country before he fell into the hands of the I.R.A. But he was arrested
by the I.R.A. men within five minutes of his release, and later paid the
penalty of his crime.
At this time too the Black and Tans appeared on the scene. A great many
are still in doubt as to how they got this name, so it is as well to
explain.
The force was recruited by Sir Hamar Greenwood’s instructions early in
1920 to swell the ranks of the R.I.C. and to replace the Irishmen who
had resigned from that force in disgust. Greenwood wanted thousands of
recruits for carrying out the policy of terrorism which had been decided
upon. He could not get them in Ireland. Even in England he found it hard
to get any decent men to come on such work. Hence his force was recruited
mainly from the lower classes of English ex-soldiers, many of them being
known criminals or ex-convicts. They arrived in Ireland in such numbers
that the R.I.C. could not possibly equip half of them in the recognised
dark blue uniform. There were some black tunics to be had and some black
trousers, also some black caps. The military came to their assistance
with a supply of khaki. Every man was given some portion of the black
uniform to show he was nominally a policeman, but the main portion of
the outfit was khaki. When these irregular forces first took up duty in
the South you can imagine their grotesque appearance—one man being all
in khaki except for a black cap, another all in khaki except for black
trousers, and so on, none of them being either completely in black or
completely in khaki.
Our Irish people have a sense of humour, and they have always been noted
for their happy knack of giving appropriate nick-names. In the district
which surrounds Knocklong—South Tipperary and East Limerick the name
_Black and Tan_ was born. For generations there had been in that district
a famous pack of hounds known as the “Black and Tans.” Is it surprising
that the people soon saw how like the new force was to their hounds, not
only in colour but in other respects? Such is the origin of a name that
will survive in all languages for terrorism, loot and murder.
These changes to which I have referred had taken place in our native
county during our absence. We decided at once to open a series of attacks
on police barracks.
Attacks on police barracks had been going on in various parts of the
South on a small scale for months. The first case in which the garrison
was captured was at Araglen, on the borders of Cork and Limerick, near
the southern end of the Galtees. The attack was carried out by Liam
Lynch, who was killed during the Civil War early in 1923, while he was
Chief of Staff of the I.R.A.
Liam Lynch, as the struggle developed in intensity proved himself the
finest officer in Ireland to control and handle a brigade or division. He
and Sean Moylan made an admirable combination and their successes against
the British were amazing. Tom Barry was, I think, the best leader of a
flying column.
I first met Liam Lynch at the Autumn of 1919. We were introduced by Tom
Hunter, then Republican Deputy for Cork and Peadar Clancy’s partner in
business in Dublin. Lynch was at that time very much on the run, like
myself. On September 7th, he had carried out a daring coup in Fermoy,
disarming twelve soldiers who were going to church. In the struggle one
of the British soldiers was killed and Liam himself was wounded. That
incident is of historic importance by reason of the fact that it led to
the first case of “reprisals”; for the night of the attack the British
soldiers, led by some of their officers, wrecked and looted the principal
shops in Fermoy.
Liam Lynch was a soldier to his finger tips. He stood six feet in height
and in his eye you read that he was born to be a leader of men. As gentle
as a child he was a dauntless soldier, and commanded one of the best
brigades in Ireland against the British.
Shortly after the capture of Araglen Barracks by Liam Lynch, the next
victory of the kind was gained by Michael Brennan, who seized all the
arms and ammunition in a barrack in Clare. In this case the barrack
was surrendered by Constable Buckley, who afterwards fought with the
I.R.A. through the war, and was killed in Kerry while a prisoner during
the Civil War. The next barracks that was captured by the I.R.A. was
Ballylanders on the 28th April, 1920, when three policemen were wounded
and the barrack burned to the ground after the garrison had surrendered
their arms to Sean Malone (_alias_ “Forde”), who commanded in the attack.
On our return to Tipperary we very soon carried out three attacks on
police barracks, one of which surrendered to us after a five hours’ fight.
The first barrack in Tipperary to surrender to the I.R.A. was Drangan.
That was on June 4th, 1920. Drangan is situated in the eastern end of the
county, near the Kilkenny side. It is seven miles from Killenaule.
Our usual procedure in these attacks—which always took place at night—was
to mobilise 30 or 40 I.R.A. men, and have trees felled across all the
roads leading to the position. In that way we prevented, or at least
delayed, assistance from arriving to help the besieged garrison. This
blocking of the roads was carried out often for a five or ten mile
radius. Often, too, we felled trees across the roads when we had no
intention of attacking a position—merely to annoy and confuse the enemy.
Having taken these precautions to ensure that no assistance could arrive
to the garrison we also cut the telegraph and telephone wires. Then we
quietly occupied a few houses in the front or rear of the barracks and
opened our attack, while some of our men perhaps attempted to fire the
building by means of petrol. Very often too the first hint we gave of
our presence was the exploding of a mine at the door or the gable of the
barrack in order to blow up the building or to make a breach. Sometimes
these plans succeeded, sometimes they failed.
The fight at Drangan was a prolonged affair. The officers who took part
in the attack were Sean Treacy, Seumas Robinson, Ernie O’Malley, Sean
Hogan and myself. Having first taken the usual steps of blocking the
roads and cutting all wires, we quietly occupied a vacant house right
in front of the barrack—why the police were so stupid as to leave it
unguarded I cannot imagine. More of our men went to the back and took
up positions for opening fire, while on the street in front we erected
a small barricade. About midnight we opened the attack. After the first
volley we ceased fire, and called on the defenders to surrender. We
always did that, not only to spare their lives if possible, but also to
spare our own supplies of ammunition which were never plentiful. But they
refused to come out. We renewed the attack, with rifles, bombs, revolvers
and shot-guns—our munitions were always necessarily of an assorted kind.
The enemy replied hotly to our fire, but with no effect. Suddenly the
sky was lighted up with Verey lights—rockets discharged by the garrison
as a signal to neighbouring posts that they needed help. But we knew it
would be long before assistance could pass our barriers. We continued the
onslaught with renewed vigour from front and rear, and some of our men
actually tore off the slates on the roof of the barrack. Daylight was
breaking amidst cracking of rifles and the bursting of bombs when there
was a sudden lull in the replying fire from the enemy. A moment later
appeared from one of the windows a sharp blast of a whistle, and our men
ceased fire. The order was shouted to the garrison to advance into the
open. A minute later they were disarmed prisoners. We prepared for our
return to safety before military reinforcements cut their way through. We
marched our prisoners—two sergeants and six constables—to the outskirts
of the village, released them and departed with our booty, not one of our
men being wounded.
The same night Cappawhite police barrack, also in Tipperary, was attacked
by another party of I.R.A. men, but the garrison held their own.
It was sometimes amusing to read the accounts of these attacks in the
newspapers next day. Naturally none of our men ever told the true story,
and the newspaper men had to rely mainly on the police version. The
police, of course, had to make the best show possible in the eyes of
their own superiors, and the newspaper men had to take their version,
because they would need the information that friendly policemen could
give them later on, and also because they might get a surprise midnight
visit from the Black and Tan torturers if anything derogatory to the
police was said. Hence it was that often when we had only 30 or 40 men
on a job, with perhaps half a dozen rifles in all, the police would tell
the public that the “number of attackers was estimated at 300, with
several machine guns.” And often when not one of our men got a scratch
it was reported that “several of the attackers were seen to fall, and it
is believed three were shot dead.” There were times when we did suffer
losses, but they never suspected it.
Our next operation of the kind was away on the north-western side of
the county in the mountainous districts of Hollyford. This also was a
complete success, the same body of us being in charge of the operation.
It must be remembered that at this time the number of men on the run was
comparatively small, and we often had to rely upon men who were never
suspected of taking part in these attacks, and who returned to their
work before morning.
Our next attack was not far from the same district—Rear Cross. Here we
had a desperate battle, and were forced to retire without capturing
the position. In this fight we had the assistance of some men from
East Limerick Brigade, and the North Tipperary Brigade, but the South
Tipperary boys carried out the main offensive under Sean Treacy and
myself. The garrison, I must say, put up a brave defence, and used their
hand-grenades with effect, Ernie O’Malley, Jim Gorman, Treacy and myself
all being wounded by shrapnel. We succeeded in setting the building on
fire, and I believe that several of the enemy were burned to death, while
two others were shot.
It was about this time—to be exact, on the night of May 27th—that the
famous Kilmallock attack took place. I was not engaged on the occasion.
This attack, carried out by Sean Malone (_alias_ “Forde”) created a big
sensation at the time. It was a prolonged battle lasting from midnight
until 7 o’clock in the morning. The barrack, which was regarded as being
impregnable, was situated in the very heart of the town, and was occupied
by one of the largest R.I.C. garrisons in the south. The I.R.A. occupied
a hotel and several houses on the principal street, and actually pumped
petrol from a hose on to the building. The barrack was burned to the
ground, but our men had to cease the attack before the garrison was
forced to surrender. One I.R.A. officer—Scully, of Kerry—was killed, two
of the enemy were killed, and six of them wounded. The two policemen were
burned to death in a room where they had been locked because they advised
a surrender. The sergeant who commanded the garrison was promoted to the
rank of District Inspector for his defence. He was shot dead in Listowel
a few months later.
The next big engagement in which we took part was the famous fight at
Oola, the day Brigadier-General Lucas escaped. This sensational incident
I must relate in the next chapter.