Return to Killybegs by Sorj Chalandon, Ursula Meany Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

respected Daniel, but he frightened me. In the ring he punched like there was nothing to hold him back. One day, his nose bled in a torrent. He took off his gloves, wiped himself with both hands, then smeared the face of the guy who had dealt him the blow, his drenched, sticky fingers covering the terrified face. I was relieved to be on his side, on that of the Irish Republic, James Connolly, Tom Williams, on my father’s side. I sincerely pitied the guys who had to face us.

    One Saturday in February 1942 I took part in my first military operation. For several months, the Northern Command had been collecting all available arms hidden in the Republic since the War of Independence. Some volunteers were crossing the border that night to hand the weapons over to the four Belfast battalions. We were children. We didn’t know much about this great countrywide relocation, and it was well after the war that we learned the scale of these clandestine transportations. Under the orders of the Republican Army Council, close to twelve tonnes of arms, munitions and explosives had been moved over fields on foot, in trucks, carts, on the backs of men and women, and without the British or Irish army suspecting anything.
    That night, Tom Williams came to headquarters to pick out two Fianna.
    —Can you whistle, Tyrone?
    I told him yes, of course, since forever.
    —Whistle.
    I brought my two index fingers to my lips.
    My father used to love my whistle, my mother hated it. In Killybegs, it was the Meehan gang’s signal for when we came across Timmy Gormley and his lot. Father Donoghue used to say that only the devil’s call could pierce the human ear in that way.
    I whistled.
    Tom didn’t look surprised. He simply nodded his head.
    —In case of danger, I want them to hear you in Dublin.
    Daniel whistled without his fingers. He rolled his upper lip and stuck his tongue to his bared teeth.
    —Danny and Tyrone, ordered Lieutenant Williams as he headed out the door.
    He and I received a dozen pats on the back. The other boys were pleased for us, and proud, too.
    In the street, a woman and a girl were waiting for us to come out. I knew the first one, a fighter from Cumann na mBan, the IRA women’s organization. The girl probably belonged to Cumann na gCailíní, the Republican girl scouts. Tom walked in front, we followed in silence. Five shadows on the street.
    —Tyrone.
    The OC had whispered. Without stopping, he indicated the corner of O’Neill Street and Clonard Street with a jerk of his chin, tossing me a white sliotar edged in black. I caught it in one hand without thinking. A hurling ball signed by the Armagh team. Why? As a front? Of course, no question about it. You had to understand with a glance or stay back at headquarters. I took up my position and threw the sliotar against the wall so it bounced back into my palm. A kid passing the time.
    Tom continued on his way.
    —Danny.
    Daniel Finley took up his position opposite me, on the other side of the road, facing Odessa Street. A bike was waiting for him, turned upside down against the wall, tyres in the air and the chain hanging off. My comrade knelt down, as though fixing it. The young girl went down as far as the corner of the Falls Road with her officer, and they stood there in a porch, like a mother and daughter.
    Everything happened too quickly. Daniel was bent over his bike, the streets were empty. Then two cars pulled up. Eight men got out at a run, their arms weighed down. The IRA. Four turned into Odessa Street, the others passed in front of me.
    —’Bout ye, Tyrone, a guy whispered to me.
    I didn’t recognize him, didn’t even look at him. I was keeping watch over my corner of Ireland, my brick street, my wee soldier’s patch. I only saw the steel of the guns flashing in the light of a window whose curtains hadn’t been properly closed. Guns. Guns from the war. Republican arms. I’d never seen their metal, never imagined the wood of their butts, and there they