Carrowkennedy 100

One hundred years ago, the Tans raided a house on the Octagon in Westport County Mayo.

In wrecking the humble dwelling, they put the young married woman, who was heavily pregnant, in some danger.

The local doctor was outraged and threatened the Brit with a letter to the area’s commanding officer.  He told them that if they did not desist, then they would be responsible for two deaths.

The doctor got what he was asking for from the Brits.

Up the command chain, they already knew that they were losing the propaganda war.

So the order was given to stay away from the address in Westport.

This meant that the home was temporarily out of bounds to all searches until the woman had safely given birth.

“Well, I got a power of work done after that!” Said my grandmother Julia to me half a century later.

The same doctor was visiting her in the days after the raid, and he noticed that there was something under the pillow in the bed. She tried to push it behind her head, but it was too late.

The twelve-year-old me asked her what it was that she was trying to conceal.

“The dispatch for GHQ on the Carrowkennedy ambush!” She said proudly.

It was the first time that I recall hearing those words “Carrowkennedy Ambush”.

Herself said that the doctor would only say, “Julia, you’re a bloody awful woman!”

In fairness, she was, but only in brilliant ways, and I see so much of her in my two cailíní now that they’re the same age as my grandmother was when she was a Cumann na mBan activist.

The dispatch was duly delivered safely to GHQ IRA in Dublin. The courier who carried the important item was Julia’s husband Joe, my grandfather.

During martial law, the trains still had to run for the British war effort,

So it was very useful to the IRA that they had their guy as a guard on the Westport to Kingsbridge line. A cabinet maker in the town had cleverly altered his railway lantern, and there was a small, concealed compartment in the bottom of it for concealing the dispatches.

My grandfather never lost a dispatch, hiding in plain sight under the noses of the enemy.

The Carrowkennedy ambush was the last major engagement of the Tan War.

Coming only weeks after the disaster of Kilmeena, it showed that the West Mayo Flying Column was learning on their feet as they navigated across the rough terrain.

The guerrilla must always be an improviser.

It is undoubtedly the case that the success of the operation proved that column commander Michael Kilroy was of the highest calibre.

Carrowkennedy was a stunning victory against the elite troops of a superpower.

You can read of it here.

Not only were the IRA better in battle, but they were also better men in every sense.

Despite a direct order from GHQ, the flying column did not execute the Tans who surrendered at Carrowkennedy.

“The IRA did not harm their prisoners, and one, RIC Head Constable Hanlon, was sent to Westport for medical assistance for his comrades.”

It is worth noting that had the Brits prevailed on the battlefield; then the Óglaigh would have been summarily executed by the Tans.

Down the coast, in West Cork, ex-British soldier Tom Barry, commanding another IRA Flying Column, showed the Brits no mercy at all when he defeated the Auxies at Kilmichael the previous November.

For the avoidance of doubt, I consider Barry’s approach to be far more pragmatic in such circumstances.

Then again, he had been taught brutality by the world leaders in savagery.

The Brits.

Here he is standing next to herself in 1966 in Westport at the 50^th anniversary of the Rising.

I was eight and just out of this shot in the Clew Bay Hotel just down James Street from the Octagon.

By that time, her Volunteer husband had gone to his rest eternal, but she was determined that she would teach her grandson when the time was right.

She did.

History forgotten is a betrayal.

History remembered is a  weapon.

Today in Mayo, a century on from the ambush, no British soldiers are smashing down doors. For all of our issues here in the 26 counties, there is a separate Irish state with a seat at the United Nations and in Brussels.

Brexit has once more shown that we Irish have gallant allies in Europe.

We wouldn’t swap with the Scots, that’s for sure.

Looking forward, I have excellent reason to believe that by the time it is Carrowkennedy 150 that the British border on this island will only be found in history books.

I won’t be around for that anniversary, but I trust that my brood will still be in fine fettle.

After all, they’re from strong people, and they know it.