Tomas, and walks on to the O’Mahony cottage, which looks out on the green. Mrs O’Mahony’s reaction to seeing Tomas is like his mother’s. He is taken into the front room; in the corner there is a shrine to Patrick almost identical to the one he had seen in the O’Hanrahan house. Only the flag is different; it is the new green, white and orange of the Free State.
Tomas picks up the Mass card.
IN THE MOST HOLY NAME OF JESUS
Patrick O’Mahony
Who gave his life for Ireland at Staigue Fort
On 14 April 1920
RIP
O Immense Passion! O Profound Wounds! O Profusion of Blood! O Sweetness Above All Sweetness! O Most Bitter Death! Grant Him Eternal Rest.
Amen – 400 days Indulgence.
Tomas thinks the words strange, finds it hard to believe they offer any comfort. He puts the card back in its place.
‘God help us, we miss him,’ says Mrs O’Mahony. John O’Mahony, who has come in off the green, nods but cannot trust himself to speak.
‘He was a good boy, a good boy,’ says Mrs O’Mahony.
‘He was a brave soldier. And he fought in a war that we’ve won. I wish he’d been here to see the end of it.’
Tomas puts on his uniform to go to church the next morning; this is the first time Drimnamore has seen the olive-green of the Free State Army. Tomas doesn’t go to confession and doesn’t take Communion. This is noticed by Father Michael, who takes Tomas to one side after the service.
‘You can’t stay away from God for ever,’ he says. ‘You carry a heavy burden. You should have the faith to share it.’
Tomas nods, shakes Father Michael’s hand, moves away and is quickly surrounded by a small circle of admirers. Some are the parents of the men who fell at Staigue Fort or who were executed later. He enjoys this sudden celebrity, and the pleasure it gives his mother, but he no longer feels at home in Drimnamore. Too much has happened to him in and after Staigue Fort, in Cork and in Dublin – these are things he cannot share and cannot leave behind. He makes arrangements with one of the Doyles to help his mother with the heavy work on the farm, says goodbye to a tearful Annie, promises to return soon, and makes the long journey back to the barracks at Ballincollig.
He sees Donal the next morning.
‘I’ve the great job for you,’ he says to Tomas. ‘You’re to march your platoon to Kinsale and take over Charles Fort from the British Army. They’re ready to leave as soon as you get there.’
‘It’s the best part of twenty miles,’ says Tomas.
‘It’ll be good for your men. There’s too much talk in the barracks about the IRA. We need to remind ourselves we’re the Free State Army now. There’s no need and no room for anything else.’
During his week’s leave in Drimnamore, Tomas has lost two men from his platoon. One has gone back to his farm in Kilkenny, the other has joined the Republican group in Macroom. To Tomas’s surprise his men are happy to leave the barracks, even for a twenty-mile march. He and Sergeant O’Connor drill them hard for an hour the night before.
‘You’ll be on show, boys,’ says O’Connor. ‘It’s a bit of a detour, but we’re going through Cork City and on down through Fivemilebridge. So make sure your boots and brasses are shining bright.’
They set off after an early breakfast the next day. North of the city they give a smart eyes right to the flag of the Free State flying above the Victoria barracks; through Cork City the cheers and clapping put a spring in their step. There are no British soldiers, no Tans, no Auxiliaries, a few policemen in the new uniforms of the Garda.
They reach Charles Fort in the middle of the afternoon. Tomas finds the British captain, salutes him and gets a reluctant salute in return.
‘There’s accommodation for you and your men in C Block,’ he tells Tomas, pointing across the central square. ‘Food in the cookhouse next door. Best if you eat tonight and tomorrow after my men have finished. We’ll be gone by
Tomas picks up the Mass card.
IN THE MOST HOLY NAME OF JESUS
Patrick O’Mahony
Who gave his life for Ireland at Staigue Fort
On 14 April 1920
RIP
O Immense Passion! O Profound Wounds! O Profusion of Blood! O Sweetness Above All Sweetness! O Most Bitter Death! Grant Him Eternal Rest.
Amen – 400 days Indulgence.
Tomas thinks the words strange, finds it hard to believe they offer any comfort. He puts the card back in its place.
‘God help us, we miss him,’ says Mrs O’Mahony. John O’Mahony, who has come in off the green, nods but cannot trust himself to speak.
‘He was a good boy, a good boy,’ says Mrs O’Mahony.
‘He was a brave soldier. And he fought in a war that we’ve won. I wish he’d been here to see the end of it.’
Tomas puts on his uniform to go to church the next morning; this is the first time Drimnamore has seen the olive-green of the Free State Army. Tomas doesn’t go to confession and doesn’t take Communion. This is noticed by Father Michael, who takes Tomas to one side after the service.
‘You can’t stay away from God for ever,’ he says. ‘You carry a heavy burden. You should have the faith to share it.’
Tomas nods, shakes Father Michael’s hand, moves away and is quickly surrounded by a small circle of admirers. Some are the parents of the men who fell at Staigue Fort or who were executed later. He enjoys this sudden celebrity, and the pleasure it gives his mother, but he no longer feels at home in Drimnamore. Too much has happened to him in and after Staigue Fort, in Cork and in Dublin – these are things he cannot share and cannot leave behind. He makes arrangements with one of the Doyles to help his mother with the heavy work on the farm, says goodbye to a tearful Annie, promises to return soon, and makes the long journey back to the barracks at Ballincollig.
He sees Donal the next morning.
‘I’ve the great job for you,’ he says to Tomas. ‘You’re to march your platoon to Kinsale and take over Charles Fort from the British Army. They’re ready to leave as soon as you get there.’
‘It’s the best part of twenty miles,’ says Tomas.
‘It’ll be good for your men. There’s too much talk in the barracks about the IRA. We need to remind ourselves we’re the Free State Army now. There’s no need and no room for anything else.’
During his week’s leave in Drimnamore, Tomas has lost two men from his platoon. One has gone back to his farm in Kilkenny, the other has joined the Republican group in Macroom. To Tomas’s surprise his men are happy to leave the barracks, even for a twenty-mile march. He and Sergeant O’Connor drill them hard for an hour the night before.
‘You’ll be on show, boys,’ says O’Connor. ‘It’s a bit of a detour, but we’re going through Cork City and on down through Fivemilebridge. So make sure your boots and brasses are shining bright.’
They set off after an early breakfast the next day. North of the city they give a smart eyes right to the flag of the Free State flying above the Victoria barracks; through Cork City the cheers and clapping put a spring in their step. There are no British soldiers, no Tans, no Auxiliaries, a few policemen in the new uniforms of the Garda.
They reach Charles Fort in the middle of the afternoon. Tomas finds the British captain, salutes him and gets a reluctant salute in return.
‘There’s accommodation for you and your men in C Block,’ he tells Tomas, pointing across the central square. ‘Food in the cookhouse next door. Best if you eat tonight and tomorrow after my men have finished. We’ll be gone by
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