The available Executive members assembled on 23 March 1923 at James Cullinane’s, Bliantas. In view of the important matters to be discussed, De Valera, was also present.1Anxious to stop the war De Valera stated at the meeting that Irish sovereignty and the abolition of the oath were prerequisites. Following a discussion on the general situation, Tom Barry proposed that the Executive recognise that continued resistance would not further the cause of independence.
The meeting had to move into the Nire Valley on 25 March because of reports of raiding forces in the area. Here the session continued at John Wall’s, Glenanore until 26 March. (This meeting took three days.)2No minutes are available, but captured documents of the proceedings were published in the Irish Independent of 9 April 1923. From this long conference three viewpoints emerged. The following is a summary:
(1) Lynch’s decision was to continue to fight, despite losses or disaster, until opponents agreed to the conditions of negotiation. It was his belief that they were still capable of offering resistance to the imposition of the treaty and that it was their duty to do so. That point of view received little support.
(2) The belief was held that a continuation of the armed struggle was no longer the best means of advancing the cause of the Republic, and that it would be possible through negotiations with the Free State government to agree to certain principles which would leave the Irish people uncommitted to the Treaty, and Republicans free to advance their cause without restriction. In principle, this meant that it would be possible for the Republicans to participate in the political and parliamentary life of the nation without taking the oath of allegiance to a foreign monarch.
(3) The view was held that the Free State authorities were unwilling to negotiate despite the maximum military effort which had been made, and had failed. Therefore, the war should be ended, thus saving further sacrifice of lives in the cause of the Republic. This view advocated the dumping of arms as the most acceptable way of ending the resistance.
These main points were discussed in view of:
1: The heavy losses by death and capture of officers and men.
2: The executions which had again been resumed in March following their suspension in February.
3: Lack of arms and ammunition to continue with further resistance.
It was estimated that, at this time, internment camps held approximately 13,000 prisoners. There seemed to be no way that they could retaliate against the execution of men other than through anarchy and Lynch would not agree to this policy.
Though Michael Cremin had been negotiating the importation of arms from the continent, there was no indication that this would be successful. Lynch was more hopeful than the situation warranted that arms would be forthcoming from Germany. In December 1922 as chief-of-staff of the IRA, he had written to Joe McGarrity in the United States expressing the hope that ‘you have by now met Comdt Gen. Seán Moylan who has been sent by Army Council as Executive Representative to Clan’ for the purpose of collecting funds and negotiating the purchase of heavy weapons to be got through Germany and dispatched to Ireland.3
In a letter that Lynch had sent to Seán Moylan on 6 February 1923 it appears as if he was confident of obtaining at least ‘one piece of artillery now ... which could be moved round amongst our strong force and this would completely demoralise enemy and end the war ... A big cargo is not required; even a few, with sufficient shells, would finish up the business here ...’4During this period Lynch appeared to live under the false hope that things would go his way – that arms would come, that all would be right for the Republicans and, therefore, for Ireland.
A proposition at the March Executive meeting, formulated and proposed by Tom Barry and seconded by Tom Crofts suggested:
That in the opinion of the Executive further armed resistance and operations against F. S. government will not further the cause of independence of the country.
As this motion (which De Valera was not allowed to vote on, but was allowed to speak in its favour)5was defeated by one vote, five against six (Lynch voting against the motion),6it appeared impossible to reconcile the divergent views held by members of the Executive. Because of this, and also the hope that mountain artillery would soon become available, a decision was taken to adjourn the meeting until 10 April. Meanwhile, De Valera was to endeavour to bring certain negotiations which had been progressing through intermediaries to finer points so that they could be presented at the next Executive meeting, which would re-assemble at Araglin.
After the meeting, Lynch walked down the road with De Valera. He reflected aloud ‘I wonder what Tom Clarke would think of this decision.’7
De Valera stopped. ‘Tom Clarke is dead,’ he said. ‘He has not our responsibilities. Nobody will ever know what he would do, for this situation did not arise for him. But it has risen for us and we must face it with our intelligence and conscious of our responsibility.’8
Southern members, Barry, Crofts, and McSwiney returned to the Ballyvourney area while Lynch, Aiken and Hyde moved northwards towards Callan. While billeted in Kilcash on Good Friday 30 March, Lynch received news that Matt Ryan, a member of his staff, had been killed the previous day. It was again a moment of soul-searching for Liam. When Kathleen Barry spoke to him, he said that there were three courses open to him: ‘to fight on; to surrender; a third option – he would not mention as he did not like to contemplate – the dumping of arms.’ But he told her that the adjourned Executive meeting would clarify the position. Even then, he had an optimistic faith in the ability of the western divisions to continue the fight. Lynch told Todd Andrews before they parted a few days earlier, that ‘he hoped he would be able to carry the Executive with him in his determination to fight on ... he had hopes of making a comeback in the west’ and had suggested that after the Executive meeting he would send Andrews to the west ‘to take charge there’.
Lynch, at this stage, wished to visit Kirwans of Graigavalla where he had billeted while on the run after action in Fermoy in September 1919. He wanted to be with Bridie Keyes. It was the last time she would see him alive. It was a very memorable visit; the Republic’s cause was foremost in most of the conversations; as Liam’s boots were pretty worn, Jerry Kirwan took it upon himself to repair them. (These are now in the National Museum, Dublin.)
Liam bid Bridie and the rest a last farewell. Afterwards they would all recall this visit as he left them and headed for Jim O’Brien’s of Ballylanigan, which was approximately four miles south-west of Callan. A number of local people had helped O’Brien to build a most unusual hide-out which housed most of the important Republican leaders during the Civil War – men like Tom Barry, Liam Deasy, De Valera and of course Lynch himself. It was christened ‘Katmandu’.
‘Katmandu’ was a room about ten by five concealed at the end of a cow shed on the farm of the brothers Michael and John Phelan. The building had corrugated-iron walls and a roof partly covered with corrugated iron and partly thatched. Access to the hide-out was through this cow shed. The opening to it was cleverly constructed and could only be opened by anyone who knew the secret. The bunk-style bed-board would hold up to fourteen men, and in a corner stood a hinged-table where many important historical documents were signed. (On one occasion, twelve men including Liam held their breaths inside while a search went on outside.)
It was now Easter 1923. Liam had his meals at Gardiner’s but he worked and slept at ‘Katmandu’.9Despite the very serious position of the Republican forces, as outlined at the last Executive meeting, Liam was determined to continue the struggle in the field and to use his policy of armed resistance until, he believed, his opponents would be forced to negotiate.
Accompanied by Frank Aiken and Seán Hyde he left ‘Katmandu’ on 4 April 1923 on the first leg of the journey towards Araglin. In a pony and trap Jim O’Brien brought them to Nine-Mile House and they continued southwards to the Suir which they crossed west of Carrick, joined the old route and went through the Gap into the Nire Valley where they rested at Wall’s of Knockaree and were joined next day by Bill Quirke, Seán O’Meara and Seán Hyde.
By Sunday midnight on 8 April, they had come into the sixth battalion area of the Third Tipperary brigade near Goatenbridge. That night, while Liam was billeted at Prendergast’s, Owen McCarthy, a dispatch rider, brought a report from Araglin that over the next few days they could expect a round up in the locality. Liam felt that it was now wiser not to continue towards Araglin, so he sent the dispatch rider with these instructions to the rest of the Executive.
Lynch and his companions, fearful that death could be around any turn, moved again that night towards the banks of the Tar River; he stayed with Frank Aiken and Seán Hyde at Michael Condons; James Condon and Bill Houlihan housed the others.10
Before dawn on Tuesday 10 April, reports came from the scouts at Croke schoolhouse of the sighting of Free State troops – moving in two files along the grass margins on either side of the road, approaching from the Clogheen direction. Lynch and his group having been alerted, had assembled by 5 a.m. at Bill Houlihans, which was the house nearest the mountains. Raids of this nature were an everyday occurrence; they felt they had left no tell-tale marks so they were willing to sit it out and were not unduly ruffled.
At about 8 a.m. a scout rushed in saying that another column of Free State troops was approaching over the mountain to their left. Their line of escape was being threatened. Leaving Bill Houlihans they dashed up a glen towards the mountain. Lynch and five officers, armed with revolvers and automatics, and an unarmed local volunteer, struggled through the gorse. At the head of the glen they waited momentarily for the two scouts who were armed, one with a Thompson and the other a rifle. Maurice Twomey, one of the officers records:
We were only a few minutes at the head of the glen, with no sign of the scouts coming when the Staters’ appeared over a rise and our first shots were exchanged. We dashed on again, up the mountain, a shallow river-bed affording us cover for about 250 yards. When we reached the end of the river-bed we had to retreat up a bare coverless shoulder of mountain. This was the ‘Staters’ chance. About fifty of them had a clear view of us at between 300 and 400 yards range and they rattled away with their rifles as fast as they could work the bolts. Our return fire, with revolvers, was of course ineffective at that range; but as we staggered on up the mountain we fired an odd shot to disconcert their aim.11
Liam and his comrades continued to move up the rise of Crowhill. As they retreated over a bare shoulder of the Knockmealdown mountain they were aware of their exposed position but had no option. Then the Free State troops opened fire again. Fragments of rock and soil thrown up by the bullets rained on them as they struggled upwards. The men, all officers, walked or scrambled in single formation but kept going hoping to get to the other side of the mountain out of view of the Free State troops. ‘Liam and Seán Hyde were to the rear. The “Staters” had fired over a thousand shots at us without effect, when a lull came in the firing.’12
After some seconds’ silence, in the still clear air of the morning a single shot rang out. Liam fell. ‘My God! I’m hit lads,’ he said.13
Immediately Bill Quirke and Frank Aiken, who were in front of Liam, heard the call and rushed back. They picked him up, and with Seán Hyde who had been in the rear, carried him some distance. Hyde and Quirke took his arms and Frank Aiken lifted his legs and continued, but it was evident that he was in intense pain and he begged them to leave him. But they continued to carry him; and kept saying the act of contrition. Heavy fire from the Lewis gun knocked splinters off the large rock behind which they had taken temporary shelter. After a lull, when they again prepared to resume their journey, Liam asked them to leave him. Because of their reluctance he finally ordered them to put him down and go on. ‘I’m finished,’ he said, ‘I’m dying. Perhaps they’ll bandage me when they come up.’ His companions realised it was the end. Hyde and Quirke pillowed a coat behind his head and reluctantly left him. Frank Aiken took his papers and his automatic, said another act of contrition as his life was slowly ebbing, put a coat over him then bade a final quick farewell to his friend as their enemy approached.14
Major General John T. Prout, Waterford commanding Free State officer with headquarters at Clonmel, had heard that certain Republican leaders were in the area, consequently he ordered a search of part of the South Tipperary and Waterford area to commence at dawn on 10 April. Over 1,000 troops were engaged in the search. Sixty men from Clogheen under Captain Tom Taylor and Lieut Laurence Clancy, arrived at Goatenbridge at 5 a.m. This was the party which had been observed by the scouts. Taylor had instructed his troops to drive south-east from Newcastle at dawn in a well extended formation across the mountain towards Ballymacarbery where they would link up with another column. Taylor’s troops marched to Newcastle extended in formation up the mountain and then broke into two parts. It was the section under Lieut Clancy who saw Liam Lynch and his men and opened fire on them.
When Lieut Clancy reached Liam, the soldier who had been covering him with a rifle shouted excitedly, ‘We’ve captured De Valera.’ Clancy knew at first glance that he was mistaken. When he looked down on the helpless prisoner he asked, ‘Are you the bloody chief-of-staff of the Irregulars?’
‘I am Liam Lynch, chief-of-staff of the Irish Republican Army. Get me a priest and doctor. I’m dying.’
‘Where are your guns?’ asked Clancy who proceeded to search him.
‘My friends have taken my guns,’ he answered, and then gave a painful moan.
Clancy gave a quick search to confirm that he didn’t have a gun, and then asked where he had been hit. When Clancy looked for a field bandage, one of his soldiers refused to give ‘a diehard’ the one he was wearing. ‘I was compelled to produce my revolver to get the bandage ... which was totally inadequate for Lynch’s body, and he was suffering pain.’15
A stretcher was improvised by tying a soldier’s greatcoat to two rifles: then began the difficult task of carrying Liam down the steep and rugged mountainside. ‘It was extremely difficult to try to keep a big heavy man on two rifles, three feet eight inches long, and in a semi-sitting position, because he could not bear to be fully stretched with his wound,’ said Lieut Clancy. In this half sitting position he was able to endure the intense pain. Frequently he had to be rested as he was getting weaker.
Liam was placed on a jennet and a cart filled with hay when they reached the foot of the mountain. Over the rough by-roads this mode of transport was little better for the severely wounded chief-of-staff. A disarmed soldier, whom Clancy had sent to secure a priest and doctor had panicked upon reaching the road; fearing that he would encounter some Republican forces he turned back. Shortly afterwards, however, Fr Patrick Hallinan, Newcastle, came along. The priest was unaware of what had happened but gladly administered the last rites to Liam Lynch.
It was now about 11.30 a.m. Liam had received the bullet wound around 9 a.m. In great pain he was carried over the rugged road and reached Nugent’s public house in Newcastle around 1.30 p.m. Here Liam was put on a sofa, some blankets were placed over him, and he was given a glass of brandy. Dr Joseph Power attended to his wounds while the local parish priest, Fr John Walsh, came and prayed. Neighbours, who had gathered in the parlour, responded to the rosary, which was recited by Fr Walsh as two blessed candles flickered on the walls and on anxious faces.
Meanwhile Lieut Clancy had phoned his headquarters in Clonmel, reported the capture and asked for a doctor and ambulance. As they waited, Liam, in a faint voice, said to Lieut Clancy, ‘When I die tell my people I want to be buried with Fitzgerald in Fermoy ... the greatest friend I have had.’
Clancy told him he had two brothers killed during the War of Independence, and that he himself had been arrested. Liam raised his right hand, and his eyes were filled with tears. ‘With my hand clasped in his, I too sobbed,’ said Clancy. With some difficulty Liam spoke: ‘God pray for me. All this is a pity. It should never have happened. I am glad now I am going from it all. Poor Ireland. Poor Ireland!’16
Liam was not a man to bear any malice in life, nor now as he lay dying in enemy hands. He told Clancy what to do with the few possessions he had on him and told him to keep his silver fountain pen ‘for the way you treated me. God bless you and the boys who carried me down the hill. I am sorry for all the trouble I caused you and them.’17 (Lieut Clancy later handed over the pen with the other possessions and instructions on what was to be done with them; he asked General Prout to return the pen to him after the inquest. Clancy alleged this was not done.)
It was 3.15 p.m. when the ambulance arrived. Liam was then taken to St Joseph’s Hospital, Clonmel, where he received good medical attention. But by this time he had lost too much blood and was bleeding internally.
At 8.45 p.m. that evening he died.
Over the next few days the uncovered oak coffin rested in the mortuary of St Joseph’s church giving an opportunity for those who could, to pay their respects.
When his fiancée Bridie Keyes approached the coffin, she stood and looked on him. Then she held his hand and stroked his face. Her friend said that her tears were within. ‘She did not cry. Her eyes just glazed. She froze. She never expected Liam would get shot, he was such a determined person, and so strong. Bridie had a belief that he was invincible.’ Bridie moved from the locality sometime after Liam’s death. She worked in the Irish Hospital Sweepstakes’ office, and it is understood, she never married.
Soldiers of the Free State army and members of the Cumann na mBan guarded the body by night and day. Free State officers kept a watching brief on those who filed past. Because of this, many of his former comrades in arms were unable to offer a last farewell to their comrade and Chief.
1 ‘De Valera was not however at first admitted to the meeting. He waited impatiently in another room while the members of the Executive decided whether or not they would allow him to attend’, Longford and O’Neill, p. 217.
2 Meeting held – 24, 25, 26 March 1922.
3 Seán Cronin, The McGarrity Papers, 21 December 1922, p. 133.
4 Ibid. p. 135.
5 T. Ryle Dwyer, De Valera’s Darkest Hour, p. 139.
6 For: Tom Barry, Tom Crofts, Seán Dowling, Humphrey Murphy, Seán McSwiney; Against: Liam Lynch, Frank Aiken, Tom Derrig, Seán Hyde, Austin Stack, Bill Quirke.
7 One of the signatories of the 1916 Proclamation – had been jailed previously in England – solitary confinement with hands tied behind his back so that he had to eat his food like an animal.
8 Gallagher papers, MS 18,375(6), National Library of Ireland, Archives.
9 Those who used this hiding place were often given meals in O’Brien’s, Treacy’s and O’Gorman’s and other houses in the locality.
10 Michael Condon and Bill Houlihan were on duty at Goatenbridge; Ned Looney and Jim Burke on the Clogheen road; Tom McGrath and Michael Donnell at approach from Newcastle.
11 Maurice Twomey in an interview for Evening Herald, 2 February 1972 – Interview taken from a series of articles compiled by P. J. Donaghy, Ned Murphy and Joe Kennedy.
12 Florence O’Donoghue, No Other Law, p. 305.
13 Ibid. See also Evening Herald, 2 February 1972.
14 Ned Murphy recalls interview with Frank Aiken. See also Evening Herald, 31January, 1 and 2 February 1972.
15 Statement written by Lieut Clancy – copy Lynch private family papers.
16 Ibid.
17 Ibid. Details of a document which was prepared by Lieut Clancy and came into the possession of the Evening Herald – Article-series compiled by Ned Murphy, Joe Kennedy and P. J. Donaghy, 31 January, I February, 2 February 1972. Copy of the Clancy document in the Lynch family papers.