British Voices (3 page)

13 January

Mail came to most of us from home, they all seem surprised at our coming here, well we are ourselves. Little has happened that we know of, it just seems to be a constant repetition of guards and other duties, we are more or less resigned to the situation. I have been detailed for guard in Jury's Hotel in Great Dame Street, our party, ten of us take over after dinner tomorrow. It is the headquarters of Dublin CID the lads say it is a hot place, we shall have to see. Gilby and I have had a pass out, but only for two hours, we had some chips for supper, but they were awful, done in olive oil or else wagon grease, I think it was the latter, we couldn't manage them.

16 January

The time is 5pm of the 16th, we on the Jury Guard have just had tea, incidents have been quiet and murderous in turn. The reception hall acted as guard room, a form and two chairs was all the furniture we had, the floor was our table and bed combined. I say bed, but it is my way of naming the condition of repose one can get on a marble tiled floor when we weren't on sentry duty. The days and nights have been a constant repetition of comings and goings. Secret Service men and detectives kept us on alert to admit them, the pass word on the first day was ‘Gin' and altered every few hours to every drink that could be thought of. Prisoners were brought in occasionally, a few looked about all in, covered in blood, minus teeth, and numerous other injuries. After a grilling in one of the upper rooms, we could hear groans and curses coming down the stairway, a dull thump indicated someone had taken a count, they took them off to Mountjoy Prison on the outskirts. One of the CID men took the Sergeant and I up in some of the rooms. This is the place where eleven out of thirteen officers were murdered in their beds on November 11 last year. In Dublin, time is now reckoned as since or before ‘Bloody Sunday' which that day has been called. Most of the rooms were in the same state as left that morning, walls and
carpets besplattered with blood, it must have been a ghastly business. Since then, the perpetrators have been hunted down. Three have been caught and are now in ‘Mountjoy' along with a few hundred others, awaiting trail by ‘Court Martial'. The nights have been full of alarms, shots, and bombs awakened the echoes, mostly after midnight. Early this morning I was on sentry at the main entrance behind the iron gate, when the noise of a motor and running footsteps caused my pal and I to look out for trouble. We got it, the runner was a secret service man being pursued by Sinn Féiners in the car.

They dropped him with a fusillade of shots, when he was about two yards from the doorway. His impetuous roll, knocked us into the hall, when were going to reply to them. In a few seconds they were gone, leaving a bomb in the roadway which failed to explode. The victim was luckily only slightly wounded, one through the leg and another through his hand. We don't know where he had been but a big party of men moved out armed to the teeth at dawn, so he must have got some information which was acted upon. It appears most of the Sinn Féin element hide out amongst the hills, and come into the city by various routes after dark, bent on some errand of murder, revenge or raid. They can get in easily enough, but it's the getting out that causes the trouble. Our men, Black and Tans, police and CID all hunt them down, when the deed has been done.

20 January

This account appears to be getting a little disjointed regarding the sequence of dates, but it can't be helped. On the night of the 16th when we were thinking of getting to bed, we were ordered out on ‘Curfew Patrol' in a big army lorry. Five minutes after ten o'clock we set out to round up the stragglers who should have been indoors. We caught twenty men and women, mostly men without homes, women of the streets, one or two drunken cabbies, but none were armed. You should have heard the wonderful excuses, some were going to the doctor, one
man had forgot to feed his hens, and was going along he said ‘to see if they were asleep'. On the banks of the Liffey we chased a woman in and out streets, she screamed curses at us interposed with numerous kicks until we dumped her in the ‘Bridewell' to go before the bench on the following morning. Some of the rowdy ones we sat on to keep quiet, our ancestors, ourselves and future generations were roundly cursed as only an Irishman can do. The 19th saw us on the streets patrolling the poorest quarters, whilst the CID searched the houses, nothing much happened, a few women spat at us, but that didn't hurt. A few prisoners was the result. A party of LFs got into trouble, the NCO in charge was taking a suspicious man away when the Sinn Féin came to the rescue, and in the subsequent exchange of shots, some children were killed playing in the streets. We are now called the ‘Rubber Footed Murderers', owing to some of the dandies of the battalion wearing rubber soled walking outboots. It is a very regrettable occurrence, the City is blazened with posters, and leaflets describing the scene, I'm glad I wasn't on that party. By way of recompense the military authorities offered a military funeral but is has been refused. All pass outs have been cancelled to prevent the rougher element taking reprisals. The time is 9.30 on the 20th inst and we have just arrived back from a surprise hold-up of all civilians in Sackville Street. Fifty men in charge of an officer were ordered out in three motor lorries. I was in the one that went along the Liffey and arrived at the end of Sackville Street where a monument to Parnell stands. The other two lorries went up Great Dame Street arriving at the other end of the street at the same moment. The officer fired a shot, and yelled through a megaphone for everyone to stand still in the name of the King. We had the job of shepherding the unwilling ones along to be searched. The chap I was detailed off with was the comedian in the concert party in India, he was happy, answering the silly questions from nervous women. No one had anything to fear if they were not carrying arms or seditious literature.

During the excitement a man tried to get by us in his stocking feet. On being questioned as to where he was going, he replied ‘Sure am be jabez I'll be just going to feed the old sow, no food has she had since this morning'. On looking into his bag, we found it full of army shirts and socks. My pal said ‘Away wid yez now Paddy you'll be tilling that to the officer down the lane just now'. It took two jabs of the bayonet to make him see reason, that was the last we saw of him. I have heard since that he was one of the party of Sinn Féin who held up some soldiers a few days ago, stripped them to their underwear and sent them back to barracks in a tram, so he will wish he had never seen an army shirt before they have done with him. When we have little to do and duties are over for the day, some of us get near the main gates and watch the different parties come and go. There is an order out that all civilians must walk with their hands out of pockets. It's a bad day for the one who doesn't or forgets, he most likely will find himself looking down a machine gun from the patrols or an automatic of the CID. I felt a bit sorry for one old chap, they brought him in streaming blood, it appears one of the Black and Tans had been coming towards barracks and this chap was behind all the way, with his hands in his jacket pockets, so the Black and Tan turned suddenly and knocked him down and then dragged him in. He didn't seem capable of any dastardly action, but then we don't know, such terrible things are done in the name of liberty. People in England don't know anything of the conditions here, shooting occurs in different parts of the city so often that they become of no interest, unless you happen to be near the flying bullets. It will be a week before I write in this again I have just been warned for a seven days guard in Mountjoy Prison, what a heavenly prospect, I don't think.

28 January

Well! This date finds the Mountjoy Prison guard over. If I've reckoned the dates right it will be about six weeks before we have another trip. I
think it is the longest week I've ever spent, the nights have been cold and wet, it hardly came daylight some days. We had too much sun a few months back, we could do with a little if only to cheer this miserable place up a bit. The inmates of the prison inside and their relations outside kept us lively at times. Every night a crowd collected outside the walls, trying to cheer up someone they knew inside, how some Irish hate us. I don't think anyone on earth can curse like a thoroughly infuriated Irishman. One night in particular, just after a large batch of prisoners had been brought in, the usual riff raff collected, and deluged the walls with rotten eggs, over ripe fruit and refuse out of all the dust bins in Dublin, the place smelled worse than some of the dirty Irishwomen do, until they are forcibly scrubbed by the policemen's wives. In one part of the prison Countess Markovitz a big Russian agitator had a cell, I had to watch her clean her cell up one morning. She said a lot in Russian about things in general, suppose I was included, but it didn't matter my Russian amounts to nil, so I didn't know a thing, her face was enough. The troops had most of the awkward refractory ones to deal with, the Royal Irish Constabulary didn't seem over anxious to deal with them. I think they had in mind what would happen to them if some of the lawless ones were able to carry out their threats of violence, and they were violent, nothing less than having you shot by Sinn Féiners. From the top of the prison walls, could be seen the hills which surrounded Dublin on three sides. To look at them one could hardly realise they hid some of the worst desperados and madly incensed men that ever lived in Ireland. They must be mad to do the horrible deeds. If this is for liberty and freedom what is taking place here now, well serfdom cannot be any worse. We heard whilst on guard that a party of Sinn Féiners ambushed a car containing Black and Tans threw a bomb in amongst them, and then shot them down one by one as they tried to get clear. As a reprisal the Black and Tans set out and cleared a whole street of inmates who were known to harbour Sinn Féin, any man who showed his displeasure at being turned out, was next in turn for a box. It will always be a mystery how many went under, incidents like that are not published. Could you credit the orders tonight, Gilby and I are down for the Main Gate Guard tomorrow night. The worst of the lot. All the big red tabs come through at the main gate, the Black and Tans have their grilling room, they are at it night and day, knocking information out of suspects and prisoners alike, and then carting them off to Mountjoy more dead than alive. What a hole to be in, it will be all right being stationed here when things are normal, but now! You are no sooner off one guard than you are down for another. Roll on the day of discharge.

31 January

Another guard over, it wasn't bad after all. I think it is just how you make it. The time during the nights passed quicker than in Mountjoy, there was always something going on, some of the Black and Tans had a word or two with us. It appears they are recruited by the Government to fight the Sinn Féiners with their own weapons, such as surprise raids, searches and hunting suspects out of their hideouts. The big hunt for the elusive Michael Collins take a lot of their time up. Most of them sport a row of medal ribbons, so that seems to be passport of entry into their ranks. To hear them talk one would think this trouble was made especially to amuse them and they alone. On the first night an actress coming out of the theatre a little way up Great Dame Street was shot in the company of a Black and Tan. We heard the shooting and saw the people running away, but didn't know until they dragged some of the slayers in, what it was all about. The rest of the night we spent listening to the groans and yells coming from the grilling room. The following day and night passed fairly quiet, some of the pals had a curfew patrol with a young officer, from their accounts since, they had the time of their lives. The officer in charge must have come straight from school, the ‘ladies' they caught had really shocked him. A few days ago all of us who came from India were issued with a leather waistcoat as an aid for warmth. It has been very acceptable, especially when the second night comes round, and your sentry post happens to be in a draughty gateway. I think one feels the cold more when sleep is the one thing you would give anything to have. Here goes a few hours all in one piece, the time is 9.30, some of those on guard are already off. I'm about fed up with Dublin, the Irish and all their works, I suppose I shall feel better in the morning. A good sleep works wonders.