De Valera's Irelands by Dermot Keogh, Keogh Doherty Page A

responded, ‘We call Liam Lynch “the Chief” – he is the real Chief! Chief of the IRA.’
    In most historical books, references to Liam Lynch’s death merely state that he was fatally wounded in the Knockmealdown mountains; while I accepted the straight-forward view that he died from a Free State force bullet, it was not until I began my research that I discovered a question mark hung over his death.
    On 7 April 1935, Maurice Twomey (who was with Liam on the morning he was shot in the Knockmealdowns) unveiled a watch-tower memorial to him close to the spot where he fell. Since 1935 a ceremony, organised by Sinn Féin, is held there each year. And in Kilcrumper graveyard where he is buried, since 1956 another ceremony takes place on an annual basis in which some Fianna Fáil members participate. On the Sunday nearest 7 September (to commemorate the Fermoy raid in 1919) at all venues ‘old IRA’ veterans, together with interested members of the public, attend the organised ceremonies each year. So it has been said, ‘There are two different Lynchs buried!’ – ostensibly two different interpretations of the Republican vision portrayed by the one man.
    It is ironic that the grand-daughter of Éamon de Valera, Síle de Valera TD in 1979, at a Liam Lynch commemorative cere­mony, hastened the early resignation of the then leader of the Fianna Fáil party, Jack Lynch, when she called on him ‘to de­mon­strate his Republicanism’: but as John Bowman pointed out in his book De Valera and the Ulster Question 1917–1973 , that, while De Valera, during the last meeting with Liam tried ‘to persuade him to abandon military resistance to the Free State, Liam Lynch was concerned lest the decision reached fell short of fundamental Republicanism.’
    In a letter to his brother dated 26 October 1917, Liam had expressed his opinion that it was through armed resistance that Ireland ‘would achieve its Nationhood.’ It was his belief that the ‘army has to hew the way for politics to follow.’
    Many of his comrades have wondered why Liam Lynch did not get the recognition which they felt he deserved, even though he had been offered the position as commander-in-chief of the army in December 1921; the consensus amongst his compatriots was that, in the documentation of history, De Valera oversha­dowed him. There is no doubt that Liam’s insistence in holding out to the end, for nothing less than ‘an Irish Republic’ when victory for that cause was becoming increasingly remote, meant that he was alienating himself from other members of the Re­publican Executive. However, Liam reiterated his viewpoint in a letter to his brother, dated 12 December 1921, ‘As you stated, De Valera was the first to rebel.’ But rebelling as a mere protest was not sufficient: ‘Speeches and fine talk do not go far these days ... what we want is a definite line of action, and in going along that, to use the most effective means at our disposal.’ Because of the firm stand which he took in holding out for a Republic, his deeds of bravery, especially previous to the Civil War, appear to have been downgraded, so much so that he is often mentioned as if in passing.
    Yet, historically, Liam Lynch is an extremely important figure because of the part he played in gaining Irish indepen­dence – first as commander of Cork No. 2 brigade and later as com­mander of the First Southern Division. The part he played with Michael Collins, Richard Mulcahy, Liam Deasy, Tom Barry and others, in endeavouring to avoid Civil War, and his efforts to achieve a thirty-two county Republic for Ireland rather than a partitioned state, should not be underestimated. During the Civil War period, as chief-of-staff of the Republican forces, he was the major dri­ving power and spokesman for that section. I believe therefore, that this is a necessary