The "Battle" of Douglas, 1922

What follows is a copy of a typewritten account by Dr. James Lynch, Medical Officer, Garryduff, Rochestown of the event in our tragic civil war known as the "Battle" of Douglas, a last ditch effort by Republican forces to prevent or, at least delay the Free State soldiers in their attempt to take Cork City. As part of the delaying tactics the main bridge at Douglas (now complete with "Flyover"), was blown up by the Republi­cans, or Irregulars as they were otherwise known. When things quietened down in the village, planks were laid across the damaged bridge, so the people were literally forced to walk the plank!


I was told by one of the Republican sentries at the granaries in Passage that it was about 1 a.m. on Tuesday the 9th August, 1922, that they noticed the "Classic" followed some little distance by a ship very like her (The "Aravone") coming up the river close in to the shore. The "Classic" had gone out the previous evening, so the sentries thought she must have met with some accident and was now proceeding to the Docks, so they let her pass.

When the second vessel came near, they reported the matter to the O/C and called out the guard. She came in as if she intended to come alongside the granary quay, but she sheered off when the guard opened fire on her, and stopped at the Docks.

The Commandant ordered the whole garrison (which consisted of 40 men with one Lewis gun and 8 rifles) to turn out, but thinking it was only the "Classic" they did not hurry. Three of the guards went to the Docks and were starting to walk up the gangway of the "Aravona" when they saw the soldiers on her deck. They turned round and dashed back with the news, closely pursued by the Free State soldiers who rushed the grana­ries, wounding one man and capturing twenty, while another Company under Captain Frier sailed into the town and tried to cut off the retreat. In this attempt they failed as the rest of the garrison had retired up the Hill and taken up position in Clarke's field. The troops tried to surround them here and a sharp fire was kept up for some time; then the Republicans retired back towards Rochestown and the troops returned to the Docks. The Republicans then went to Old Court where they were joined by re­inforcements from Cork, after which they went to Rochestown where they took possession of the Railway Station.

About 7 a.m. the whole neighbourhood was startled by a terrible explo­sion caused by the blowing up of the road bridge at Rochestown. About 10 a.m. we got news of the landing of the Free Staters and shortly afterwards we heard two loud reports which sounded quite near. I tried my best to get my wife and daughters to go to my mother's house in Cork, as I guessed that my place would be in the thick of the fighting and was so convinced of this that I had been making preparations for some time past and had hundreds of bandages and stores of all sorts of surgical equipment ready in my study. They, however, absolutely refused to leave without me and as that was quite out of the question, we all set to work to make the best of a bad job and be ready for what might come our way. I had a big table brought into my study; my two daughters and I covered it with bandages, lint, cotton wool and all kinds of lotions and dressings. They threaded surgical needles - enough to sew an army with. We charged all the hypos with morphia, prepared all kinds of splints and finally they made two stretcher beds. My wife was not idle, as having laid in bags of flour and sides of bacon she spent the morning superintending the baking and getting ready for the first comers. We could hear the firing gradually becoming louder and louder, and at about 2:30the house was shaken by a terrific explosion caused by the blowing up of the railway bridge. I went out to see what was going on, and meeting my neighbour - Mr. McCarthy - I advised him to have his cattle brought into his yard. When he said he would not risk a human life for them, I told him I did not think there was much danger in getting them up at once and that I would do so. I returned to the house for a whip and then proceeded across Mc­Carthy's lawn to the Wood field looking down the glen towards Rochest­own. I could see a long file of men mounting the opposite hill behind Ford's house and they apparently were being fired at by a party in the wood beneath me. I ran down the field, turned up a herd of cattle and some horses, then went to the top of the hill behind the wood to get a look at what was going on. Just as I was at the top of it I heard the loud ping of a bullet as it skimmed past my head. I did not wait for any more sight­seeing but hunted up the cattle as quickly as I could.

Soon after reaching home, I got a call to Douglas to see a Republican soldier who had just come from Passage. I put a Red Cross on my arm and started on my bike. I got on all right until I came to the first turn past Simcox's where I was called up to "Halt and Hands Up!" I stopped and called out "Doctor - Red Cross" whereupon a half dozen heads and rifles appeared over the wall at each side of the road and a cheery voice sang out: "Hallo Doc! I would not doubt you. Go on and good luck to you!" I was stopped at every turn of the road in much a similar fashion until I had passed some distance when I heard "Halt!" and on looking round saw a chap taking aim at me. I went very slow after that.

I was just sitting down to dinner when I heard desperate knocking at the hall door and on answering it I saw a boy gasping for breath, who told me to come at once as there was a Republic very bad in a cottage near Breen's, opposite the Monastery. I got my bag and hurried through Old Court and over the hill to the cottage indicated. There I found an old soldier, now Republican, suffering from shock. He said he "had run so hard from Passage that his heart had come up into his throat and he wanted some medicine to put it back again." I gave him something to keep him quiet, then went outside and watched the two armies assembling on the two hills. The Free Staters with the "Big GUN" were taking up a position on the road outside Perry's gate, while the Republicans could be seen in groups of six and seven running behind the banks on the hill to the right of me, to take up their position with three machine guns round Crowley's house. It was saddening to see these fellow-countrymen, such fine looking men, taking up position on their native soil for the purpose of slaughtering one another.

I then went home and was having my dinner when volley after volley came in quick succession, apparently from the Old Court wood. My man, his wife and their children came rushing up to the house and I made the whole household go into a dark passage underground outside the coalhouse where they sat huddled together on chairs listening to the approaching volleys. I did my best to keep up their spirits and to reassure them. I started to cut and mow the tennis court which, being to the south, was sheltered, and then came back again, making fun of the whole performance. I was cutting the court when I heard hammering at the yard door, and on going down I found two little girls outside. I recognised one, whose name was H- and who had wonderful auburn hair, and I asked them to come in, questioning how in heaven's name they had got there alive. They replied that they had come up through the woods; that a Republican soldier was bleeding to death in Rochestown Mills; that they had been sent for a doctor, and would I come at once. I said: "Thanks very much; although it will probably be my last sick call, as you have had the pluck to come for me I will go." They then went away.

I went to the house for my bag and told them I was going to Rochestown. My wife declared that she intended to come with me as she would not allow me to be shot and left to die. I told her to talk sense. She and the two girls insisted on at least coming to the yard gate to see me off, although the firing was very intense. When I opened the gate they followed me into the lane and I was dismayed to see a crowd of Republicans with rifles in the field opposite, some yards away.

I walked up to them saying: "I am not a politician. I am a doctor and I am going to attend to one of your wounded in Rochestown. Give me a hand over the wall." A huge man lifted me up as if I were a feather and catching me by the shoulder said: "Swear to us you won't tell the Free Staters, who are coming up, that we are here." I replied: "I have been twenty years here and have never mixed in politics, and won't tonight." He said that would not do and was getting angry when a small chap who was standing near came up and whispered something to him. He then gave me a hearty slap on the back and said: "You must be all white (sic) go on." When I looked back and saw my wife and girls, as I thought, for the last time, standing all unprotected under such terrible circumstances, I felt real bad and turned back to the big man said: "Am I risking anything by going to help your wounded?" and he replied: "I rather think you are." "Well," I said, "there are my wife and children. Promise me you won't let them be frightened more than you can help." He replied: ""Trust me," and calling to his own men he said: "No one is to go near the doctor's place" and to give them their due they obeyed his orders, for although afterwards the Free Staters were in my house and firing for more than an hour all round it, my house was spared, except for a few stray bullets - when they might have raked every room in it with their machine guns.

I have had pleasanter walks then I had that night when I floundered my way through fields carrying a heavy midwifery bag full of surgical equipment, - sometimes in the darkness and across cornfields, expecting every minute to be shot and hearing the sound of occasional firing to my right, the left, and in front of me. However, I got down near the road and was in the act of getting over a bank in nearly pitch darkness, when a man jumped from behind a tree and called out: "Who goes there?" I replied: "The doctor" and he cried: "Thank God! I have been here for two hours and was afraid to go back." I told him to come along as Ihad a Red Cross and they would not fire on us.

We got down the road between Rochestown and Old Court; this road was very dark, being between two hills, and it was not exactly pleasant walking up to a huge barricade of trees which had been cut through across, expecting every moment to be fired on. However, there seemed to be no one behind them until approaching the second tree we heard a patter of feet behind, and the cheery voice of the little girl sang out: "It's all right; come along, doctor; we will show you the way." I told them to keep behind us, but they ran on and brought us to the house where the patient was.

I found a fine young chap named O'M- lying in puddles of blood in the middle of the room, surrounded by women, He had been shot just under the right collar bone and through the left arm. I washed and dressed him as best I could. I ordered them to get him to hospital as soon as they could find an ambulance, and the words were hardly out of my mouth when the little girl H- darted from the room to go for one. I caught her outside the house and had to promise to send for one before she would go back. I started for home and was just getting through the first barricade when I almost jumped into the arms of two of the Monastery Priests who were on their way to see poor O'M- I don't known which of us got the greater surprise. As I came near Old Court the firing grew very intense and there were loud crashes as if a big gun was at work.

I ran up through McCarthy's wood and did not stop until I found myself in the middle of his cornfield. I remember so well stopping for breath after stumbling on my head over something which I thought was a body, and saying aloud: "Jim Lynch, I always thought you were a damn fool, but now I am sure of it," - for whatever good my Red Cross was in the open, it was surely no good in the darkness and only my head appearing above the corn! There were six men killed in that field. I struggled out of it and made for McCarthy's front gate. When 1 got near it, I could make out the forms of men moving about and I called out "Are there any Republican soldiers there?" A man jumped from behind the gate and pointed his rifle at me saying: "Ian. Who are you?" I replied: "I am the doctor. I have been with O'M- Send for an ambulance for him." He laughed and said: "Me go for an ambulance! I don't know where I am. Look at my hands (they were covered with blood). I tended to O'M- and my comrades went away and I am lost. I have not had food for days. Iwas in Kilmallocklast night." He was such a fine looking chap, so well spoken and so absolutely dead to the world I took the risk and brought him down to the house. The wife and girls were up at a bedroom window anxiously looking out for a sight of me, and when they saw me coming with an armed man they did not know what to make of it.

When I sang out that it was alright, they came down and got him some refreshments. I don't think I ever saw a man so hungry and so grateful as he was when he got his pockets full of cakes to take with him. I went to the gate to show him his way to Cork; as we were approaching it we heard a whistle and two men jumped out of the bushes at us. He called out something in Irish, then they answered and told him they belonged to his own Company. At this news he seemed a changed man. He came to me, caught my hand and said: "Doctor you have saved me. Some day I may be able to do you a turn." I think he kept his word, for I fancy when my horse and my daughter's pony were given back to us the day at Killing­daniel - when all the hunt was held up and the horses seized - that he may have had something to do with it.

I was jolly glad to get inside doors again, to have some food and go to bed. It had been a trying day for all of us.

The following is an account of the Taking of Rochestown, which I compiled from information received from both sides, but I took no personal part in it.

At 12:30 p.m. on the 5th August, Company No. - (52 men) hold with about 200 others a position stretching from Cregane Castle to the base of Knock Soura Hill (Bruree) were marched to Charleville. There they heard that the Free Staters had landed at Passage, and they were sent by special train to Cork, from thence to Rochestown where they arrived at about 6 p.m. There they joined with the local Company and some of the Kerry Brigade. Ten minutes after their arrival, a scout came running to report that a large force of Free Staters were coming along the road from Passage and were then about a mile away. Immediate orders were given to take up positions commanding the road in the heights overlooking it. O'M­with twelve others started along the road behind Keller's public house. He, with 25 men took the road immediately behind it leading to Ford's. Another Company with a machine gun went to Chillingworth's house, practically in a line with the above mentioned roads. Others were put near Ford's with a machine gun. O'M- with three others had just turned Richard's corner when they came upon the Free Staters in Geany's garden. Both parties were completely taken by surprise and opened fire on each other at about 30 yards range. Of that four, O'M- fell shot through the chest and arms. Hol- was killed. Sh- was wounded and captured. F- took O'M- on his back and carried him to the cafe under a terrible fire. The Free Staters had two men killed and two wounded, including Capt. O'Conlon who had the tops of three fingers badly shot. When I dressed them two days later, the nails were hanging off but he did not let that interfere with his work. He was a brave man. Some of the Republicans with Ho- had green uniforms on, and when the firing became general the Company in Chillingworth's mistook them for Free Staters and opened fire from behind on them - while the Free Staters were firing on them in front. This put them out of action as the cross fire was so terrible they dare not move. H- told me afterwards that he had been through the Jutland fight and that it was child's play compared to this. The Free Staters gradually worked their way past Richard's up the hill to Rochestown House, and firing from there with machine guns they drove the Repub­licans over the hill towards Old Court, leaving O'M--at the Mills. There were 200 Republicans in Old Court Wood that night.

The Free Staters then came down to Rochestown, taking up their quarters at Kelleher's and the Cafe. Ford told me that when the Free Staters came to his house they ordered the family out, and when he with his "42 feet of sons" (he has 18 children) had their backs to the wall the only thing that saved them was the polish on their boots which told that they had not been fighting - (they were just after cleaning them).

Wednesday, shortly after daybreak, the firing began and gradually increased in intensity until about 7:30. Volley followed volley with such rapidity that it seemed continuous. It appeared to be just beneath us in Old Court, in Rochestown, and at times also in Ballyorban.Afterbreakfast I went to Douglas and was held up every few minutes.

The Rochestown Republican Company were in possession of the Police Barracks. Ho- and his Company (what remained of them) were sta­tioned all day on Sherrard's lawn, while lorry after lorry of Republicans went up Maryboro' Hill during the morning. I got home at about 11:30 and went to see my patient opposite the Monastery. The Free Staters had left their position outside Barry's after shelling the Republicans out of Crowley's, and had taken up their position near his house - the Republi­cans having retired towards Cronin's. When I got home, the firing was worse than ever and all the members of the household were down in the basement, all huddled together like the night before. My man was feeling faint so I went to my study to get him a bottle of stout. Ihad left a roll of cotton wool on top of the books in the lowest shelf above on fire, blazing. I had great difficulty in putting out the fire which, had I come up a little later, would undoubtedly have burned down the house. There was a bullet hole in the window which is straight opposite the bookshelf. Who would keep a house without stout after that! The firing had got so close, I told my wife we should have no milk for tea if the cows were not turned into the shed, as they were certain to be shot. I went down and chased them in, - the firing was then in McCarthy's field across the lane. I was hurrying back when I heard hammering on the door and yells for admittance. When I opened it, Capt. O'Conlon followed by about 25 men dashed in and while these were searching the stables and out-offices, he kept plying me with questions.

Not finding anyone, the men came back to us and the Captain said to me: "You are under arrest. Keep close to me." I told him I was the Dispensary Doctor, and showed him my Red Cross at which he laughed "There have

been several Red Cross' in the woods fighting" he said. He then ran up through the house and on seeing the preparations in my study he cried out "Republican Hospital:" and dashed from room to room looking for Republicans and incriminating documents. He even went so far as to empty the children's school satchels, thinking they were dispatch bags. In the meantime, the troops having taken shelter behind the shrubs around the house, kept up an incessant fire which was returned with interest by the Republicans on the hill opposite. The Captain ordered everybody to keep underground if they valued their lives, and took me upstairs to get the best position for a machine gun. When we came down, we found my wife and the two girls on their hands and knees behind the windows in the dining room peeping out at the fighting outside. They saw one man fall after being shot on the path to the stable about 20 yards away. (I can see them now - raised just enough to look out - those three heads which meant all in this world to me, - raised also just high enough to get pierced by the bullets which were flying around like driven hail and which I saw raising clouds of dust and mortar as they buried themselves in the walls of the out-offices - I can hear the Captain exclaiming: "well, I am damned! but it is madness!" My language was more forceablethan elegant. Through all this trying time not one of them seemed to know the meaning of the word "fear.") We got them to creep downstairs, much against their will.

The Captain then went out to give some orders and I went upstairs.1I was having a good glimpse of warfare, as I could see both sides blazing away at each other, when there was a thundering knock at the hall door. When I opened it I saw what looked like a soldier outside, but he was so plastered with mud and blood from head to foot that he was quite unrecognisable. He asked: "What place is this?" When I informed him, he next asked where he should go to find Belmont, saying he had been ordered to take it and stop there. I told him it was back across the road and he replied "Thank God!" Can you give me a drink and a wash, I am in an awful state." I brought him up to the bathroom and went for refreshments while he set to work to remove the slabs off his face and head. After a drink, which he badly needed (not having had anything for nearly 24 hours) he introduced himself as Captain Friel and stated he had led his Company into the middle of a big turnip field outside my gate thinking that the firing on the hill was that of O'Conlon's men. When they got him there, the Republicans opened fire on him with several machine guns, killing six of his men in the first volley, and the rest of them had crawled on face and hands down the turnip ridges until they got shelter.

I left him to finish his ablutions while I ran down to answer another knock.

I found another soldier outside who wanted to go upstairs to get a position for a machine gun. I did not like the look of the chap. He was a small shifty looking ruffian, but I showed him upstairs. He stopped me and said: "You ought to get your family and leave the house at once, as the Free Staters are beaten and the Republicans will take it in a short time." I took him into my room and was soon convinced that it was loot he wanted, so I got rid of him quickly enough by telling him that Captain Friel was in the next room.

Some of the Free Staters had advanced across my fields others went up the road, whilst more went into Mrs. Hegarty's field opposite my house. I was returning to Friel when O'Conlon ran past me, dashing upstairs and shouting: "Friel for God's sake come along! the day is lost! Our men are retreating." He came down again in a few seconds followed by Friel who was struggling into his tunic. He yelled at me: "Come along, Doc. and bring your bag." We dashed out of the house. When we came to the turn in my avenue, we stopped and said: "Get me up to that cottage on the hill as quickly as ever you can." I turned aside and getting through the paling we ran across my field and got on to the road. This short cut saved considerable time and, to my mind, saved the fight, for if we had gone up the avenue and round the road the retreating men would have had time to get back to Hegarty's wood and they could not have rallied in time. When we had gone a few yards we met M.W.P. Clarke and his two sons coming towards us under an escort of Free Staters. I said they were friends of mine and that I would go bail they had not been fighting, and to let them go. We then ran up the hill until we came to Barrett's cottage on the left side of the road, where we saw the Free Staters falling back on each side of the road, taking shelter as they ran close to the banks. The firing became very tense here, and there was a perfect whirlwind of bullets down the road and from the fields on each side as O'Conlon and Friel sprinted up the centre, their revolvers pointed at their men and calling on them to "right about face." It was nothing short of a miracle how they escaped, for about 120 yards away the road turns sharp at a right angle, and Cronin's house (in which the Republicans made their last stand) is roughly about 40 yards from this angle. On the bank at the turn were placed two machine guns whilst about 30 men with rifles were firing from behind it down the road. There were two machine guns in the field on the right and two in the field on the left, all blazing away at the road - not to mention rifle fire as well.

These two, O'Conlon and Friel, are the bravest men I ever met. I struggled on with my heavy bag, keeping close to the wall on the right side of the road till I got past the gate of Horgan's field when someone sang out: "Lie down, take shelter!" I lay down faster than ever I did before, in the drain on the right side of the road and flattened myself sideways against the wall. I was in a most damnable funk at first when I saw the stones popping about just in front of my head which, providentially, was partially screened by a stone projecting a few inches above the surface and which was struck several times. There was the constant ping! ping! ping! of the rifle bullets as they swept over my head, varied frequently by the rattle of the machine gun bullets which seemed to comb my hair- I suppose it was standing up on end.  I felt sure I had been hit at least three times. There was a hail of berries on me from the trees above as the bullets riddled them from side to side. As I lay there, expecting death each second, I could see my house with my loved ones in it, and the thought of their awful position, if the handful of men with me were defeated, was worse than the thought of death. I guess it is one thing going into a fight when you know your family are safe at home, but it is another thing having them all in it with you.

After what seemed an eternity, but which in reality was about ten minutes, someone shouted "Advance." We got up and creeping along by the wall, we came near the angle, the firing having now slackened in front. I saw a man apparently wounded lying under a bush at the turn, and ran to him, but he said: "Go on, Doctor, it is only shell shock." I heard cheering, shouting, lorries hooting and general bedlam. As I went up I saw a man writhing in pain on the side of the road near Cronin's house. When he saw me he cried out: "Doctor, you are the bl- luckiest man on God's earth. I had you covered with a Lewis gun when you came around the corner with the other two. I was in the act of pulling the trigger when my back was ripped open - one second more and you were in bits!"                                                                                   '

I had just finished dressing his back, some of the muscles of which were cut through with a rifle bullet, when I heard a voice behind me saying: "Doctor, you had better have a look at my face." I turned round and was horrified to see O'Conlon with his face all pouring blood. I thought he was done for, I sat him up against the wall and was greatly surprised to find his wound little more than skin deep, caused by a shot gun, but he was very lucky he was hit over and under each eye. I washed and powdered his face, and finding he was alright I advised him to go to the house where Mrs. Lynch would look after him.

I was told afterwards that he was the first Free Stater to get to Cronin's house in which only Scott McKenzie, Kennedy and Murray remained, the others having retired. O'Conlon with Friel just behind him called on the inmates to surrender. Murray had a shot gun pointed through the jamb of the door to the left of the front door, and fired when he saw O'Conlon.

The charge struck the wall alongside the door post and ricochetted into O'Conlon's face. Both inmates then made for the door and were shot as they came out, which ended the fight. I then went to Cronin's house outside of which I found a lake of blood, while across the road lay the bodies of Kennedy and Murray, both of whom I found to have died a few minutes before I got there.

I then went back to Horgan's field on the right where Ifound five Free Staters all dead. I then hurried home where I got a hearty welcome from O'Conlon who was sitting smoking a cigarette in an armchair in the dining room. He had frightened the wits nearly out of my wife when he walked into the house with his face all blood, but she soon stopped the bleeding by mopping his face with colodium.

We then began an evening "At Home" which beggars my powers of description. When the fight was over, the Free State soldiers, the wounded and the prisoners all arrived back to my place. As most of them had had no food for more than 24 hours, you can better imagine than describe their appetites. They struggled back in batches of 8 to 10, sometimes with prisoners, generally bearing or helping the wounded. As there were a few cases waiting for me when I got back, I threw off my coat and waistcoat, turned up my sleeves and got to work. When a batch came along, the wounded would be deposited in my study, the rest would leave their rifles and machine guns in the hall, then go into the dining room where they got tea, bread and butter, bacon and eggs as fast as my wife, my two daughters and the two servants could serve them. It was wonderful how they kept going and worked till they had fed between 80 and 100 men that night. I have never since ceased to marvel at what my womenfolk accomplished, brought up as they were. None of them had everbeennear a dead person, never had seen a real wound, nor heard a shot fired, except at a distance before - yet here they were, among the dead and dying and badly wounded, in a veritable shambles, where their feet were wet through with human blood, where the breath they drew was thick with the steam of it, and where for hours their ears were tortured with the cries of agony and groans of the dying, they stood at my side, on and off for hours, holding a wounded limb, or dressing, when strongmen had turned sick at the sights and had to leave the room. The wounded kept coming in for hours without a break. Then I was told that I was wanted badly in the yard. I found a dying man lying all alone on a stretcher outside the coach-house. He had been shot through the mouth and his appearance was pretty bad, while he kept on groaning in an awful manner. I gave him a hype of morphia; he was then carried up and placed by the stairs in the hall.

I returned to the study and my wife held a man's elbow while I lanced the inside of his arm and extracted a bullet which had penetrated from outside. He never moved a muscle though I went in half an inch. I have that bullet on my watch chain now. I had barely finished with him when three men brought in a young chap with the whole of the calf of his left leg blown to bits right down to the bone. He bled like a pig; while my wife held his heel I washed and dressed him. I had a job to stop the haemor­rhage as pressure caused agony. He never stopped groaning although I gave me 1,/, gr. of morphia before he left the house. I have since met him quite all right again.

Next I was called to a case in a lane just outside my stables, where I found a lorry jammed across the road and disabled. On it were three dead men and a poor chap who had been shot in the knee. I gave him a hype of morphia as he was in terrible pain. I had to leave him with his dead companions until I could get the means of bringing him to the house. When I got back, 'I went to see how the dying man on the stretcher by the stairs was getting on, and as I knelt by his side my second daughter, Vera, came and sat on the stairs near me - I can see her now, her elbows on her knees, her face resting on her hands and her glorious mop of hair falling over them. She was dead to the world, poor kiddie. Small wonder, after helping her mother and me with the wounded for four hours without a minute's rest. I told her to go to bed, for she had done the work of two women and that her daddy was very proud of her. She staggered to her feet and leaned across the banister to kiss me goodnight. As our lips met I heard a gasp below us and the poor fellow who lay between us drew his last breath. I am ashamed to admit that in the hurry my mind was so taken up attending to the body that I had forgotten the soul and I only realised the fact when I found that he was dead. I told my wife that I must have been mad not to think of sending for a priest before, and was intensely relieved when she replied: "It's alright, I got one; he came while you were out." I heard afterwards that when she saw the first badly wounded man brought in, she went to O'Conlon and asked him to send for a priest and that he refused to do so, saying "I cannot sacrifice a living man for one just dead, as whoever goes is sure to be shot." When the firing lessened she kept at him until at last he said: "I won't order a man to go, but I wouldn't prevent a man from going" - whereupon a young chap volunteered and brought the priest. On enquiring, we found this young fellow to be a Protestant from Belfast, and as my wife is one also, we have two Protes­tants to thank for the priest in time.

As the place was getting blocked up, I had a look around. I found the three Captains asleep in the two small beds in the nursery. In the hall was the dead man, and three live ones nodding asleep on chairs. There were piles of rifles in one corner, of machine guns in another, with heaps of top-coats and strappings all around. In the study some twelve bad cases lay on stretchers, rugs and mattresses, their heads to the wall, their feet to the centre of the room which was a pool of clotted blood. They included the man Donoghue who had so nearly shot me. There were ten asleep in the drawingroom, two in the pantry and eight in the diningroom. As there were others waiting to be attended to outside, I went and woke up O'Conlon and told him I would have to get more accommodation as the house was full. He said "Send Lieut. Leonard here." When he came, O'Conlon ordered him to "Get ten men with rifles; tell them to take any house Dr. Lynch says; to shoot anyone Dr. Lynch tells them to - and clear to blazes out of this for I want to sleep."

I got the ten men and sent them for carts to convey the wounded men, and having loaded up three we started off. When we got outside my gate, there were soldiers lying asleep on both sides of the road and sentries walking up and down. It looked all so strange in the moonlight.

I intended taking McCarthy's house, but the very intelligent sergeant who was with me pointed out that there was no use taking any house that was not furnished and occupied, so I had no choice but to go to Mr. Clarke's. We climbed over his gate and knocked up the lodge man who opened it for the carts, and then proceeded to the house.

We knocked repeatedly at the hall door and rang the bell until the men began to get impatient, so I went round to the front to try to attract attention without frightening Mrs. Clarke, but did not succeed. I then went back just in time to stop the men from firing a volley into the top window. After yelling his Christian name, a window was at last opened by Pearson Clarke. Soon after, Mr. Clarke and his two sons came down, and having let us in they did all possible to make the wounded men comfortable. I then went home and attended to a couple of minor wounds, after which I had dinner (consisting of the last piece of bread and the last drop of whiskey in the house) taken standing between two sleeping soldiers in the pantry. Ithen took off my boots and coat and lay down in my blood-soaked clothes in bed just as the clock struck 3 a.m. I seemed scarcely to have had my head on the pillow when I was awakened by a loud knocking at the hall door. I jumped up in a flaming temper cursing the sleeping sentry and the army in general. I opened the door and asked what the hell-fire blazes they meant by knocking us up when the house was full. A gentle voice replied: "I am very sorry, Doctor, but I must see the officers in your house. I am General Dalton and this is General Ennis." I wished the ground would open and swallow me up for being such a fool,  but I could only make humble apologies and show them into the drawing room which had been rapidly cleared.

After a hunt, I discovered two small bottles of Chavil (which I fear proved to be flat) and a few cigars which I offered them, explaining that these were all that was left in the house. I then retired to bed once more, it being now 3:30 a.m. I got up shortly after 4 o'clock, made a hasty toilet and went downstairs. Surely, the scene that met my eyes in that early dawn seemed strange to one who had had such a peaceful and unevent­ful life. The pale shrunken face of the dead, the sleeping sentry, his rifle between his knees. The grotesque and varied attitudes of the sleeping soldiers as they lay on the floor in every room, while in all directions piled against the walls, on the floor, were rifles, bayonets, machine guns, revolvers and strappings of all kinds.

At about 5 a.m. I got my wife up; she roused the servants; they lit the fire and started baking bread cakes shortly after 6 o'clock which they kept on doing for four hours, making tea and frying eggs and bacon for the same length of time during which they fed over 120 men. I brought the officers their breakfast in bed; I had a job to wake them after all they had gone through; they were inclined to swear at first, not knowing where they were, but when they saw the trays with breakfast, the look of absolutely astonishment and pleasure on their faces was comical in the extreme. Having dressed O'Conlon's wounded fingers and taken a look round at my patients in the house, I helped my wife to get the breakfast table ready, and it made me laugh to see her stepping across the sleeping bodies of the soldiers as she went to and fro' from the sideboard to the table. I wanted to wake them up, but she would not let me, saying: "let the poor chaps sleep as long as they can, they have earned it."

I don't think any of the household had time to sit down and eat a bite until after 11 o"clock when the constant stream of troops coming in our out of the Canteen and breakfast room diminished. How they kept it up I don't know, as someone had to be always on the run carrying teapots, dishes of bacon and eggs, and trays of bread cakes upstairs from the kitchen to replenish the ever rapidly disappearing supplies in the breakfast room.

At 11 o'clock, O'Conlon (whom I had christened Napoleon, and whom my kiddie called 'Raspberry Jam' because she said when he came down­stairs that morning his face was all spotted as if he had fallen into a plate of it) and I started off on the march to take Douglas, and when we got as far as the gate he stopped and said; "Go back and tell your wife and little girls that they are not women; they are not ladies-they are super-women and super-ladies, and then follow me as quickly as you can."

My wife told me that evening that although there were silver spoons, forks, plate and jewellry under their hands, that during the whole time the soldiers were there she had not missed anything, neither had she heard a single rude or vulgar remark from any of them.

When I caught up with O'Conlon, the two Companies had fallen in and were drawn up in a line which extended down the lane past my paddock gate. I leant against the gate to watch them and then noticed two rugs spread out on the ground a little to one side of it. Thinking it a pity they should be left there, I went over to fold them up and catching a corner of one, I pulled it back - I got a shock to see the heads of six dead men under it. I replaced the rug and hearing O'Conlon shout: "Quick March!" I ran up to him and we walked down the hill together until we came to Hegarty's wood into which he sent his men in extended order. I had not known him for 24 hours, but I had great admiration for him. To him and to Friel yesterday's victory was certainly due. I do not know how many men were there when they went up the hill, but there were over 200 with machine guns as well as an armoured car and lorries near Cronin's cottage an hour before, so that they had tremendous odds against them. O'Conlon had the most wonderful power over his men; they loved him. He was a born leader, absolutely fearless and possessed of an extraordi­nary animal magnetism, although he had not taken out a University degree. I told General Dalton that I, personally, would follow him (O'Conlon) into hell, for he would make a way out, and it was a terrible disappointment to me later on when General Dalton sent me to him at the City Club, to find that he had left five minutes before for Macroom without me.

We got to Maryboro' back gate without any incident; O'Conlon went through it with about ten men while the rest of us went along the road. Every second I expected the fight to begin, as for the two previous days the Republicans had been assembled in great numbers behind the high walls on both sides of the roads. However, we got within sight of Windsor gate before a shot was fired, and then the machine guns began to blaze away from Marlboro' Hill and also from across the water near Raven­scourt. We got into Windsor as quickly as we could. I got a room in the lodge, on a table of which I spread out the contents of my bag so as to be ready. On the wall just behind the room I was in, Capt. Friel ordered a machine gun to be placed, and it never stopped firing the whole time we were there.

Capt. Friel and I went up to the house to see if he could get a site for the machine gun, but he did not succeed, and I was very glad to be given some cake and a drink as I had scarcely broken my fast that day. Nothing could exceed Mr. and Mrs. Sutton's generosity in supplying the soldiers with refreshments. Mr. Sutton kindly lent us his glasses which, I am sorry to say, were lost as well as two pairs of mine and my surgical instruments. I have a fair idea as to who the reptile was who took them.

After listening for a considerable time to the roar of the guns without anything worth mention having occurred, we left Windsor and pro­ceeded along the road to Douglas. As we came within sight of the Finger Post, a rapid change took place in our surroundings:- The Free Staters armoured car (The "Manager" ), an armoured lorry and a smallerone with a big gun on it, had come down from Maryboro' Hill, and having taken up position on the Douglas side of the Finger Post, blazed away for all they were worth in the direction of Ravenscourt from where the Republicans returned the compliment. They must have seen us when we passed the cottages, for a storm of bullets went over our heads, and bending down by the wall we made the best of our way to the houses behind the guns and I was thankful when I heard the closing of Miss Higgins's house door behind me; we had run the gauntlet of a crossfire from the hill behind the Rectory for about the last 60 yards, and it had been warm enough for me. I got into the corner of the room away from the window and was there only a few minutes when several shots hit the wall in front of me, making a nasty thud. There was a second door leading into a room at the back of the one I was in, so I went round by the wall into it. There I got a surprise. There was a big four-poster bed in the middle of the room and under it two young ladies were taking shelter.

There were two Free State soldiers with a machine gun firing for all they were worth out of the window of the Rectory Hill. The Republicans had evidently got the range of the room, for shot after shot came into it making holes all over the wall opposite me. There was a statue of the Blessed Virgin on a bracket fixed to the middle of the wall opposite to the window and it was extraordinary to see the holes appearing in the wall all around it while the statue itself was never touched. I then went back for a change of air to the front room and got round to the corner near the door in front. Whilst there, I noticed a peculiar coincidence - there was a picture of the Cathedral of Rheine, and the name beneath the picture was "After the Bombardment." The glass over the picture, although smashed to atoms by five or six bullets, still hung together, giving it a most appropriate appearance. I had not noticed it when I stood in the same corner before; perhaps it was fortunate that I visited the back room.

I got along by the wall until I could take a lookout of the window and was interested to see the men working the guns. But a more wonderful thing was to see a huge white sow walking backwards and forwards from the Finger Post to the guns and back right in front of my window. A bullet would hit the ground an inch from her nose; she would merely give a grunt and walk calmly on. Another bullet would land between her legs - she would grunt again and continue her extraordinary patrol. I watched her breathlessly, expecting to see her bowled over every second, until I was called into another room. There the owner of the house showed me two handsome tables, the legs of which had been broken by bullets. I attended there one of the gunners; the wheels of the armoured car had gone right over his feet. It was badly crushed, but not a bone in it was broken. As the firing had abated considerably and the "Manager" had gone towards Douglas, I left the house and got under the shelter of the wall. There was not a pane of glass left in the row of houses by the Finger Post and their walls were indented like a man's face after smallpox.

The "Manager" fired 750 rounds that day. I saw, when I went out, eight or ten Free Staters drawn up past the police barracks and I met O'Conlon, his hand dripping blood. I dressed it at the Dispensary and then took him over to Miss Sheehan's shop, introducing him to her as "Napoleon" or the man who won the war. She got him something to eat whilst I went to Driscoll's and got some bottles of stout, one of which I offered him but he would not take it. I gave some to a few soldiers until I was hauled up for doing so by an Officer whom I had not seen before.

The following information I received from an eyewitness:- The "Man­ager" was the first indication of the Free State, at Driscoll's public house. The sergeant in charge of her knocked at Sheehan's door; a lady came out from next door and was in the act of opening the shop door when she heard a noise and looking around she saw a big lorry of Republicans coming round Driscoll's corner. Then they saw the "Manager" they stopped, turned back, and made for Cork by the back road. The "Man­ager" gave chase, but when the Republican lorry got over the bridge near O'Brien's Mills, this bridge was instantly blown up, consequently the "Manager" could not follow. I was told by a lady that she saw O'Conlon walking towards the Dispensary with about eight men. She saw Repub­licans with rifles levelled in windows at each side of the street, waiting to shoot him when he came in line, and she was just in time to stop him before he got there. Surely, he had a charmed life?

I then went over to the Dispensary and took a big dose of quinine to try to keep me going as I was feeling desperately tired and would have given anything to sleep.

The Free State Troops continued arriving until there was a long double line which extended from the police barracks to just opposite Sheehan's shop, where I got a room upstairs for the Generals and their staff.

1 was standing outside my Dispensary, leaning against the wall, vainly trying to keep my eyes open. My clothes, which I had not changed since the day before, were well stained with blood and mud and I had a Red Cross on a dirty white band on my arm. I must have looked a most disreputable object, for more than one gentleman eyed me questionably as though I had been drinking. I wonder what they would have looked like if they had spent thirty such hours as I had.

I suddenly woke up with a start as a Procession approached us-There was a tall handsome man with fair hair, clothed in white from his chin to his boots; there was a large Red Cross decorating his manly bosom, while he carried a large white flag on which a Red Cross also appeared. On each side of him walked smaller editions of the same, while behind them walked what I supposed were medical students somewhat similarly arrayed. They took no notice of such an unsanitary Red Cross as mine, but with a grand manner they marched proudly past, hoisted their Red Flag and took their stand in front of the troops, much to the admiration of the villagers and a considerable crowd which was rapidly increasing. Then one of the troops fell sick, and showing a sad want of respect for antiseptics he passed them by and came to me. The poor devil had a cut hand and was tired and thirsty, sol surreptitiously sneaked him a drink from Driscoll's. Then he went back and I suppose his comrades smelt it, for they kept falling sick at suspiciously rapid intervals. After the fifth, I was not taking any more, so I went and sat on the window sill of Sheehan's shop.

There were 35 killed and 75 wounded, casualties on both sides, and with the exception of about six the others were attended by my wife and myself, so I thought I had done enough for one day of 31 hours with hour sleep and not time to sit down to a meal.

My eyes were just closing in sleep when the smaller Red Cross passed me and went up to the General's adjutant who was standing outside the door, and asked where the wounded were. I saw a smile come over the Adjutant's face as giving me a wink he replied: "I don't know; you had better ask the doctor who attended them during the war." I nearly forgot myself and laughed. He then turned to me and asked where they were and I tried to explain the way to Mr. Clarke's, but he asked me to come and show him.

I told him that Ihad been commandeered for service and could not leave without orders, but that I would ask General Dalton's permission if he liked - so I shook myself together and went upstairs to the room occupied by General Dalton. I asked him if he had finished with my services and he said: "I have, for the present." I told him that the Doctor ou tside had asked me to show them where the wounded were, the General said he would be very much obliged if I would, and he thanked me for my aid. I went to the Dispensary for my bag and a bike and started off. When the Troops saw me going, they gave me three hearty cheers for "The Doctor," one of which he took for himself and two for his plucky wife and daughters who had fed them.