THE SKY WAS red. It was eerie, the streets quiet and deserted, and above them the sky an intense, burning, reddish-orange glow, while a thick, black, smoke-like cloud covered the centre of Dublin. Nellie had never seen anything like it before. Maybe the British army had decided to burn them out and had set the GPO and Sackville Street ablaze. The air was heavy and humid, and she had a strange sensation of ash in her mouth and lungs. How could anyone survive such an inferno? The sound of heavy artillery and machine-gun fire seemed to be coming from all across the city on both sides of the river.
Up on the roof of the College of Surgeons they were under heavy fire too, Nellie moving among the exhausted men with cold water for them to drink and some of the remaining cake and broken biscuits. It was like being in hell up on the narrow parapet and she tried not to feel giddy as she looked down into the street and park. Sniper fire and machine-gun fire peppered the air around her.
‘Hold my gun,’ begged one of the young lads as he slumped against the roof and thirstily drank some water she offered him, closing his eyes. She could see his hands were raw and scorched from the heat of the gun, which had given her a fright when she touched it. He was close to collapse.
‘Soldier, you are relieved,’ barked one of the older army men beside her. ‘Tell the countess to send a man up to replace you and get some salve on those hands.’
The past twenty-four hours had been desperate, many of their men collapsing with tiredness, hunger and lack of sleep. The commandant was trying to rotate and relieve them, and everyone had to take a turn up on the roof while others were sent down to try to rest.
Nellie kept hold of the young man’s gun as he scrambled past her on the narrow ledge, grateful to be sent down to the college hall to rest.
‘Will you stay on watch until his relief comes?’ asked the captain.
Nellie nodded and settled down into position.
‘There’s a sniper over there,’ called out the captain. ‘But don’t engage him.’
Bullets ricocheted all around her until her ears rang with the sound. Suddenly there was an explosion and the roof tiles and granite around her disintegrated in dust as she ducked her head.
‘On the right – have you got him, lads? Can you see him?’
With all the dust and smoke Nellie found it hard to see anything.
‘We’ve got him!’ they yelled as they began to fire.
Despite the barrage of shots the sniper seemed to dive and disappear, leaving only the tip of his rifle visible.
‘He’s on the lower part of the roof, hiding beside the gutter.’
The captain and two men took immediate aim. Then came a cry of ‘We’ve got him! Hold fire!’
A few minutes later they could see the injured sniper scuttling from the roof towards safety. Nellie was relieved that he was alive but no longer a threat to them.
Time passed. Nellie didn’t know how the men stuck it up here for hours on end, unable to rest or move away, so surrounded did the enemy have them.
Dublin was burning, fires across the city getting worse, the fighting concentrated on the other side of the Liffey as the army gunship kept up its unending bombardment.
They were in a hopeless situation, but all were determined to fight on for as long as they could possibly last out. She thought of MacDonagh and his men, and of Joe Plunkett, James Connolly and all the people she cared about who were caught up in this desperate battle for freedom. Muriel and Grace must be worried out of their minds. She preferred to be up here in the heat and sweat of the roof, serving with her garrison, than at home imagining what was happening. No doubt Mother would be horrified to know that she was so deeply involved in the rebellion.
The bullet-marked tricolour flag still flew high overhead, flapping lazily in the breeze, somehow surviving the constant hail of bullets. Nellie felt tired and overwrought herself, needing to sleep. Her eyes were sore but she dared not shut them: she had to remain alert and on watch.
A few hours later she was happy to pass the gun to one of the former Jacob’s men and resume her duty bringing water to their sentries. They all looked so tired and she urged them to eat a bit to try to keep their energy up.
‘But I don’t eat raisins,’ one grumbled as she managed to cajole him into swallowing a few.
Looking around her, she had absolutely no idea how much longer they could last under such conditions. They had lost a few good men and a number of their company had been badly injured, but so too had many innocent citizens, children too, shot crossing the street or getting caught in gunfire. It grieved Nellie deeply to think of them.
The fire was getting worse, the sky black with smoke, ashes blowing in the air throughout the next twenty-four hours. It seemed the whole city was burning, building after building destroyed. At night the garrison joined together to say the rosary, the countess joining in the litany and repetition of prayers. Some sat in silence, writing letters for their families. The countess quietly asked Michael Mallin to witness a letter she wrote. Nellie suspected it might be her will, for she was certainly a wealthy woman compared to the rest of them. Nellie had a huge regard for her and her enthusiasm, utter loyalty and bravery, and was very proud to have served as her aide-de-camp over the past few days.
They were all aware that it was only a matter of time until they faced certain bombardment and an all-out attack by their British enemy, who now had them totally surrounded.