Tom Barry (31 page)

Barry himself was alert, always. Being a keen bridge card player, and like Liam Lynch, a good draughts player, Barry constantly tried to anticipate the moves of his opponents. ‘A good leader is one who attempts something that is possible, not what is impossible,' he pointed out almost fifty years later. He had his men prepared for any eventuality, to think ahead, to react quickly, ready to vault over a ditch or wall as they marched. To get to brigade meetings and return quickly to his column he travelled on horseback. He had a horse that would jump ditches, walls, everything – ‘a winner of the Ballsbridge show owned by a great-great nephew of Daniel O'Connell.'
[37]

Col M. J. Costello summed up the success of Barry's flying column with ‘good leadership'. And he quotes Napoleon: ‘In war, it is not men who count, it is the man'.

With particular reference to Crossbarry, Col Costello wrote, ‘If the men of Crossbarry had not been led with skill and determination, there would have been no fight to write about. They would simply have been mopped up … If even one step had been neglected, if the leader had been content, as so many of us are prone to be, with something less than absolute thoroughness and attention to every detail in providing for the security of his command,' it would have been disastrous. Furthermore, ‘in the superior morale qualities of Barry's column, is to be found another reason for the result of the action and an object lesson in the truth and importance of Napoleon's remark: “the morale is to the physical as three is to one”.' Barry's success Col Costello said was the men's ‘confidence in their commander, a confidence learned in other fights, and an intense patriotism were foundations of this high morale and discipline.'
[38]
The Third West Cork Brigade Flying Column carried the name of their commander and became known as ‘Barry's Flying Column'. The ballad maker penned the song:

When British Terror failed to win

Allegiance from our people then,

The Black and Tans they were brought in,

They thought they'd teach us manners ...

The grander tune of all is played

By the fighting squad of the Third Brigade,

Whose glorious deeds will never fade,

The men of Barry's Column
.
[39]

When the Truce came into force the fighting men of West Cork were dazed by the speed of events, and their first reaction was one of disbelief. They felt it couldn't last beyond the month. ‘Whatever decisions were made at GHQ before the Truce and however these decisions were influenced by the military situation, they were certainly made without consultation with one of the areas which had borne the brunt of the fighting,' Barry wrote in an unpublished document. ‘Lynch was at division headquarters when the official notification of the Truce was received … no previous indication of such a possibility had come from an official source, and little notice was taken of the newspaper rumours which preceded it. He issued the necessary orders for the cessation of hostilities but it was clear to him that if the Truce was prolonged … the effect on morale and efficiency was bound to be detrimental.'
[40]

Although the flying column was provisionally disbanded, nevertheless its members were ordered to remain on call in case hostilities were resumed. They were to dump their guns, put them aside – but, as it happened, not put them away forever.

Lord Bandon was released.

On the day the Truce was announced a dispatch arrived for Tom from the adjutant-general stating that the president had appointed him chief liaison officer of the martial law area, covering eight southern counties. He did not welcome the president's appointment. However, he took up this position on Monday 11 July 1921, the day the Truce came into force.

As noon approached on 11 July he hid his colt automatic, bade a temporary goodbye to his friends, and set out for Cork city. It was the end of a phase, but not the end of his guerrilla days.

Notes

It was Easter Monday morning 1916. Ireland was part of the British empire, its seat of government in Ireland controlled from Dublin Castle with a British army.

At ten o'clock on this sunny morning a group of armed men wearing unfamiliar green uniforms and slouched hats marched determinedly, taking up positions at various points in Dublin city. One group marched with their leader Pádraig Pearse through Sackville Street (later O'Connell Street), swung into the General Post Office and ordered the staff out a gunpoint. Windows were barricaded and the tricolour – the green, white and orange symbol of the Republic, which was to be proclaimed – was raised on top of the building. The proclamation was then read. Although the Rising was to fail in its aim of achieving independence for the Irish Republic, without this rising there might have been no subsequent success.

On the north side of Dublin on that Easter Monday morning a group of women Volunteers mobilised. Shortly after assembly they were disbanded and told to go home, as there would be no rebellion. Among this group of women was nineteen-year-old Dublin-born Leslie Price. A national teacher trained in the Dominican Convent, Belfast, she was a member of Cumann na mBan and had acquired knowledge of first aid through this organisation.

Between the great strike and lock-out of 1913 and the 1916 Rising she acted as secret courier for men like Pearse, Seán Mac Diarmada and Tom Clarke. Tom Clarke's tobacconist shop was used as a ‘post office depot' for the organisation. Present at the funeral in Glasnevin of the Fenian, O'Donovan Rossa in 1915, Leslie said that the graveside oration delivered by Pádraig Pearse left an indelible mark on her: ‘The fools, the fools! – They have left us our Fenian dead. And while Ireland holds these graves, Ireland unfree shall never be at peace'. Soon she decided to join Cumann na mBan.

Leslie Price helped those Volunteers who were trying to free Ireland from British domination. She knew that her brothers Seán and Eamonn had already marched with Pearse, so she and her friend Brid Dixon decided that they would go to the GPO instead of going home. It was about 1 p.m. when they arrived there and reported to Tom Clarke.

Initially they cooked meals and helped the men in the Hibernian Bank. On Tuesday forenoon the building came under attack from British troops. Leslie was standing beside Capt. Tom Weafer, OC of the Hibernian Garrison, when a bullet whizzed past her and into his stomach. As she was about to attend to him another bullet lodged in the chest of man who had gone to Capt. Weafer's aid. She had just time to say a prayer in Weafer's ear when he died.

The small garrison was ordered to evacuate to the GPO However, Tom Clarke asked Leslie to stand by. With the other women she acted as courier between the GPO and Fr Matthew Hall, carrying messages backwards and forwards to the background of gunfire, blood and death. On Wednesday, field guns opened a strong bombardment which set many of the buildings in Sackville Street on fire. The upper storey of the GPO was wrecked. The defenders fired incessantly, and with the aid of the women the wounded were evacuated. On Thursday there was continuous bombardment by the British forces as they gradually closed in on the GPO when barricades went up at the top of Moore Street. Up to this, she was not scared. But when Tom Clarke sent her to cross Sackville Street into Marlborough Street to get a priest to come to the GPO, she felt ‘really frightened'. With ‘bullets whizzing everywhere' she hugged the walls, intermittently darting into the shadows. At ‘any moment' she felt a bullet could get her in the back. During a gripping few minutes she hid beneath Parnell's statue where British troops had blocked the way with a manned barricade. Eventually she ‘skirted' it.

With her ‘heart pounding' she arrived at the presbytery (opposite the Department of Education) which was occupied by British troops. A few minutes later she had to face the return journey. This time she was not alone. A priest went with her. Safely back, her horror mission accomplished, her normal state of mind returned. That night as the shelling bombarded the GPO and timber and concrete scattered everywhere, Leslie darted around to help the wounded. The shelling, the shouting, the terror and the burning continued.

Pearse, whom Leslie remembers as a quiet, gentle type of man, called all the women (about 25 of them) together on Friday morning around 10 o'clock. He told them they would have to leave. It was a sad occasion. Some of the Cumann na mBan protested, saying they would like to stay and help to the end. ‘But really we knew we'd have been a handicap, it was better for us to go.'

As Leslie was about to leave she passed Tom Clarke (who would later die before a firing squad). He caught her hand and said, ‘Tell my wife the men were wonderful to the –' he didn't finish the sentence, but she knew the missing word was ‘the end'. About three of the young women remained behind, and Leslie with the others filed out of the side door into the smoke, ruins and dead bodies on Henry Street. With Louise Gavan Duffy who was in charge, under the protection of the white flag, these young women carried some wounded men on stretchers and took them to Jervis Street Hospital.

Knowing that they might be arrested on the way home – as they were – they concocted a story. They said that they were pupils at the Dominican Convent who had been out walking with their teacher, Miss Louise Gavan Duffy (who was in fact a teacher at that school), and that while they were passing the GPO the men had called on them to come and help. Eventually, following some further questioning, they were released and went as arranged (because they knew they might be followed) to the Dominican Convent where the nuns kept them until it was safe to go home.

Following these events Leslie spent her time visiting prisoners and talking to their dependents. Her brother Seán had been one of the stretcher-bearers who took the wounded James Connolly from the GPO. Years later she recalled those ‘sad days' when they listened ‘for tidings' as the men ‘were shot one by one'. Like the many Volunteers of that time, both Seán and Eamonn Price were arrested and interned in Frongoch for some months.

Her period as a schoolteacher wasn't a very happy or satisfactory one, as the authorities kept checking to establish if she was actually taking class or whether she was influencing her pupils in some way. Eventually she gave up teaching and became an organiser for Cumann na mBan. Elected director of organisation she mustered women in the four provinces, and got to know the headquarters of every brigade in the country. Her bicycle was her constant train companion. When she got to a destination it speeded her movement and helped her execute her task more efficiently.

It was on one such visit to Cork that she met Charlie Hurley. As the months progressed their friendship deepened. However, fate intervened and Charlie was killed. Since that sad night in the Clogagh graveyard she had met Tom Barry on a few occasions – briefly at meetings and when she brought guns and ammunition. When she was sent to Cork to check on the welfare of the hostage Lord Bandon for De Valera, she had a long talk with Tom.

With the implementation of a Truce in July 1921 Tom decided he would like to meet Leslie again, so with the consent of the O'Mahony family of Belrose she was invited for a holiday. Following a whirlwind romance the couple decided to get married. The wedding took place in St Joseph's church, Berkeley Road, with the reception in Vaughan's Hotel in Dublin on 22 August 1921.

Leslie, wearing a white frilly blouse, navy suit and picture hat upon which was set a cluster of varied-coloured flowers, looked radiant. Her mother, father and her four brothers attended, as well as her only sister, Eva, who was her bridesmaid.

The Dáil was adjourned for a day to allow invited members to attend the wedding. Many of the great names in modern Irish history were present: Eamon de Valera, Michael Collins, Richard Mulcahy, Countess Markievicz, Liam Tobin, Seán Hales, Liam Lynch, Liam Deasy and the best man, Dick Barrett, and many more – friends and working companions of Leslie and Tom. The only known photograph in existence has De Valera, President of Sinn Féin, seated between Leslie and Tom. Whether this is because the photographer was paid for by the Dáil or because of De Valera's importance at the time is unknown. But it is a historic record of unity some months before many would fight each other.

This marriage, born out of war, blossomed and matured into a deep love and understanding as the years progressed. The honeymoon was spent in West Cork, and during the early days of their marriage, they stayed in O'Mahony's converted house in Belrose and in Barrett's, Killeady. They had no home.
[1]
For many of their earlier years together, Tom told his friend John Browne of hardships when they ‘had to count the cream crackers, and measure the butter!'
[2]

For their twenty-fifth anniversary Tom gave Leslie a gold Claddagh ring. ‘This,' she said, proudly fingering it in a hospital bed 60 years after their wedding, ‘this is the heart enclapsed by hands and crowned with love.' She then drew attention to the gold disc broach, which pinned the top of her bed jacket together. ‘He gave me this for our fiftieth anniversary. ‘'Twas hand-made and engraved in Egans. Isn't it nice!'. Encircled within a Celtic design was the following:

22-8–1921

To Leslie Mary

With Love

Tom

22-8–1971

From the early days of marriage Tom had to keep on the move. In his new role as chief liaison officer for the martial law area, he was said to have been very strict. His instructions were to report to the OC Seventeenth Infantry Brigade at 3 o'clock on 11 July 1921. He travelled in uniform to Cork city and notified ‘the enemy' also ‘in uniform' of his presence. Brigadier-General Higginson telephoned him at HQ Cork Brigade and asked if he was in uniform. Barry said, ‘Yes!' Higginson would see him, but not in uniform. Barry said, ‘I don't in>tend entering Victoria Barracks in uniform. But I've worn it for the past 12 months and will continue to wear it when and where I please'.

He entered the barracks dressed in civilian clothes, and was escorted by two officers to General Strickland's office.

‘You are the representative of De Valera here?' one officer asked.

‘I am not! I want you to understand that I am an officer appointed by GHQ IRA to meet you and co-operate in carrying out Truce terms'. The officer went in and then returned.

‘I'm afraid the general can't receive you. He's been in touch with headquarters and he can't receive you except as Mr de Valera's representative.'

‘That's fine with me. I didn't want to see him in the first place. It was he who requested the meeting.'

Barry believed it was deliberate on the part of the British administration not to recognise the IRA as an army. ‘I was a soldier fighting in a war, and when the Truce came I was appointed by the government of the Republic to represent its army, and I wasn't about to be looked on as henchman for De Valera or anybody else.'

He made a statement to the officer. Then he told the officer to repeat his words: ‘General Barry will be glad to meet you if you are meeting him as an officer of the Irish Republican army, and not as De Valera's representative, Mr Collins' representative or Mr X's representative.'

He waited for some time. Strickland's message stated that he did not recognise the IRA, nor would he do so. But, Barry was adamant, he would only deal with him in his capacity as an IRA officer, and if Strickland was unwilling to deal with him as an IRA officer, he would leave immediately. He was determined he wouldn't be side-tracked on this issue. When asked if he would speak with Higginson, Barry adopted the same attitude and received a similar response. He returned to his office.

As other officers in the martial law area had similar problems with Higginson and enemy police, Barry convened a meeting of all liaison officers in Mallow. He told them that they should deal with the enemy only as IRA officers. He ‘instructed them' to cease all co-operation with the enemy until he heard from GHQ because the ‘enemy police were continually breaking the truce'. Fully armed, the police paraded up and down in front of his office (HQ Cork) in Turner's Hotel and they seized two of his motor-cars. Barry sent his complaints on the IRA official notepaper, but the enemy ‘refused to deal with any complaint registered on that notepaper'. Barry then sent his complaints to Comdt Duggan, chief liaison officer, Dublin Castle who referred him to Divisional Commissioner Dunlop, RIC. Dunlop asked that the breach of ‘the truce terms by the police' should be referred to him.

‘Not until two IRA cars are returned', Barry said.

Dunlop said one was a stolen car and he would ‘not recommend its return; however if a permit was procured for the other, it would be given back'.

‘I've driven cars without permits and will continue to do so'. Barry was emphatic.

Dunlop said he would await instructions from Dublin. By mid August the matter remained unchanged.
[3]

‘I rang Mick [Collins] after. He was quite silent about it.' On a visit to Cork and to his home place, he met Barry. ‘There's trouble over that!' he said, but told him not to worry. A few days later Barry got a message to report to Dublin to meet General Macready.

In Vaughan's Hotel he slept in the bed Collins used, had a bath and shave in the morning and got into his best suit. He was ‘having a smoke' after breakfast when Collins came in with Ned Duggan, chief liaison officer, dressed ‘in a black coat, waxed moustache, black hat, striped pants and spats.' Barry didn't take to his ‘aping of the British'. He told Collins he wasn't the best man to meet Macready; however he relented after some persuasion. The two went off in a ‘posh car'.

On being escorted into the room Macready stood up, shook hands with Duggan, whom he had met previously, and ignored Barry. Then he stated, ‘Well Mr Duggan this black-guardism by you Irish chaps, it'll have to stop – assaulting troops …' As he continued with the ‘diatribe' Duggan replied, ‘Yes, General, it will be done.' The more he said ‘yes general', the more Barry began to fume. Then Macready spoke of an incident in Tipperary where he said some British soldiers had been beaten up. Barry was aware of the incident and knew that the soldiers were drunk and provocative. ‘Our own fellows weren't always blameless … sometimes we had to take action we'd fire them out of the IRA, tell them to get out of the country, tell them they were a disgrace … But I'd say four out of five cases were started by the British … Anyway Duggan continued with, “Yes, General!” – Christ, I was starting to boil.'