The Last Embers of Daylight: An Irish Timeline
- Thread starter DirtyCommie
- Start date
I think hearing that one's timeline is disturbing and plausible is the highest compliment 'round these parts. Also, it's something along the lines of theip ort.
Good to see people are still wanting to read!
The Second Irish Civil War, 1933-1937: Part 3
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan's Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds:
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind,
In balance with this life, this death.
--W.B. Yeats, An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
Every absurdity now has a champion to defend it.
--Oliver Goldsmith, The Traveller
Now all the leaders of the War looked at one another with fresh eyes in the ruins of the Free State. Even though O'Duffy had begun the war and his men had been the original enemy, it was as though the Free Staters besides old tragic de Valera had never truly taken the Guard seriously. It had been their worst mistake, for now the Guard was stronger than either of the other two factions, and looking with covetous eyes to the north. The beast was spent for now, however; in February, some of the heaviest snows yet seen in Ireland stymied operations and made certain that there would be no true fighting until at least April. On February 11th, a final conference was held between the Free State factions; the Sligo Conference. It was the first and last time Frank McDermott and Peadar O'Donnell would meet, accompanied by hordes of soldiers and advisors. Framed by the picturesque Sligo City Hall, the few photos of this meeting are iconic symbols of the war; McDermott, clearly exhausted, slumped over a map of Ireland, with O'Donnell watching with darkened eyes, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
One of very few remaining photos of Frank McDermott, standing alongside an unknown PGI corporal(1)
Though on nearly opposite sides of the spectrum and with a violent history behind them, the reality of their situation very much nullified any political or ideological concerns either had about the other. No longer the petty fights over who was to lead a unified force; instead they simply decided there was to be no unified force, simply cooperation. There were no words given to what would happen after the war, or what either would do when the Blueshirts were on their knees; this writer finds it quite likely that had the Guard been defeated, the civil war would likely have continued for at least half a decade on, considering O'Donnell's virulent hatred for the Anglophilic, bourgeois-centered ethic at the heart of the PGI. This however, as with all counterfactuals, is a moot point. What was agreed upon was that O'Donnell's men would have access to the stream of supplies, now greatly increased after the "scare" of the fall of the Free State, coming from Britain, while the far more experienced Republican soldiers would aid in the training of the PGI militias, who had long been derided by the other factions as the greenest of the green. As the snows finally began melting in April, then, the elite of both groups reentered the war with optimism in their hearts. Unfortunately, though they did not know it, the war was about to end for one of them.
Provvie(2) recruits pose for the camera
In the early weeks of April 1935, Republican soldiers stormed south on a new offensive, their goal the already war-torn city of Cork. Frank Ryan himself led the campaign, batting away NG paramilitaries like flies. Little did he know that he was being baited deep into a trap. The lack of resistance to their advance allowed the Republicans to push deep, but narrowly, into Blueshirt territory. This advance was finally stopped at the village of Aghabulloge or Acadh Bolg to the National Guard regime, a small town in northwest cork. Surrounded by natural barriers--mountains(3) to the north, a river to the south--Acadh Bolg was the perfect chokepoint. On the night of May 3, hundreds of NG units surged into the Boggeragh Mountains to the north of the village, setting up defensive barriers and as many traps as they could(4). These were led by the young Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin, recently escaped from prison in Galway and very familiar with Red(5) tactics. Cuinneagáin's actions during the latter part of the war have been the subject of much debate. Apologists for his command during the war and his later regime(6) have argued that his actions were justified due not only to the so-called brutal torture he suffered at the hands of the Reds (for which I would like to point out there is no evidence(7)) and the supposed burning of pro-Blueshirt villages in the central counties, as well as the massacre of captured NG partisans throughout the war, for which, again, there is no evidence(8). Regardless of the truth of these claims, the fact remains that Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin continues to this day to be one of the most brutal war criminals in history, with almost a million deaths directly attributable to his orders, as well as hundreds of 'disappearances'. The Battle of Acadh Bolg is perhaps the best example of his terrible violence.
Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin as a young man
While his own troops were secretly preparing in the mountains, another force assaulted the Republican troops across the river, surprising them with their viciousness and rather comprehensive armament. Though the Republicans defended their position fairly well, the decision was made by Frank Ryan to pull back; no reason to take unnecessary losses. This took them right into Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin’s trap. From every alcove and cave and ledge in the mountains, his men opened fire on the Republicans, while the traps spread confusion and terror through their ranks. Within an hour, the disorganized Republicans were surrendering en masse, though a small group led by the general himself managed to fight their way through the mountain force and back towards Red territory. In yet another despicable act, Ó Cuinneagáin ordered the surrendered Republicans, perhaps some ten thousand men, to be summarily executed and left to rot where they were shot.
Shock and horror met the shattered remnants of Ryan’s forces when they returned to Galway. These men were the best that the Congress had to offer, and they had been entirely destroyed in one battle by the Blueshirt forces. A grim attitude quickly set in among the Republicans; to be honest, however, it had always been there. Since the beginning, the Communists and especially Red Peadar, as he would later admit in his seminal work, Fear and Freedom, had been infected with a deep negativity, almost a fatalism that defined all of their moves. While popular amongst Galwegians, the Communists knew that any rule they would ever have over the country would be an imposed one. The Irish, as was clearly shown by their whole-hearted embrace of Eoinism(9) and the bourgeois ideal embodied by the PGI, were not ready for communism and would perhaps never be ready, not until the counter-revolution had left them raw and bleeding. In this, perhaps, there was “...some dark hope, hiding from the light of day--the torture of the Blueshirts would so rape the Irish people that they would rise up of their own accord and advance the revolution…” (O’Donnell, 1954). As the year progressed the Blueshirts unrelentingly hammered Republican positions in the south. Without the cream of their force still fighting, even the strongest defense they could muster was not enough against the main Blueshirt force, especially as they had to constantly move east to deal with the so-called “Amhas Brigade”(10), a group of mainly farmers who were now acting as pro-Blueshirt guerillas in the central counties.
As the Blueshirts advanced on Galway, it became clear that Red Peadar would not repeat the mistakes of De Valera; by September, the government of the Republicans had fled Galway, and set up shop near Sligo, where, as records now show, O’Donnell was already beginning to organize what would be known as the “Red Fianna”(11). As September came and went, Galway fell, soon to be followed by the rest of of the West. By December, all that remained of Republican territory was the tiny sliver of County Sligo they controlled, filled to the brim with refugees. As the New Year approached, O’Donnell prepared to make a decision that would end the civil war and begin the guerilla one…
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan's Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds:
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind,
In balance with this life, this death.
--W.B. Yeats, An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
Every absurdity now has a champion to defend it.
--Oliver Goldsmith, The Traveller
Now all the leaders of the War looked at one another with fresh eyes in the ruins of the Free State. Even though O'Duffy had begun the war and his men had been the original enemy, it was as though the Free Staters besides old tragic de Valera had never truly taken the Guard seriously. It had been their worst mistake, for now the Guard was stronger than either of the other two factions, and looking with covetous eyes to the north. The beast was spent for now, however; in February, some of the heaviest snows yet seen in Ireland stymied operations and made certain that there would be no true fighting until at least April. On February 11th, a final conference was held between the Free State factions; the Sligo Conference. It was the first and last time Frank McDermott and Peadar O'Donnell would meet, accompanied by hordes of soldiers and advisors. Framed by the picturesque Sligo City Hall, the few photos of this meeting are iconic symbols of the war; McDermott, clearly exhausted, slumped over a map of Ireland, with O'Donnell watching with darkened eyes, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
One of very few remaining photos of Frank McDermott, standing alongside an unknown PGI corporal(1)
Though on nearly opposite sides of the spectrum and with a violent history behind them, the reality of their situation very much nullified any political or ideological concerns either had about the other. No longer the petty fights over who was to lead a unified force; instead they simply decided there was to be no unified force, simply cooperation. There were no words given to what would happen after the war, or what either would do when the Blueshirts were on their knees; this writer finds it quite likely that had the Guard been defeated, the civil war would likely have continued for at least half a decade on, considering O'Donnell's virulent hatred for the Anglophilic, bourgeois-centered ethic at the heart of the PGI. This however, as with all counterfactuals, is a moot point. What was agreed upon was that O'Donnell's men would have access to the stream of supplies, now greatly increased after the "scare" of the fall of the Free State, coming from Britain, while the far more experienced Republican soldiers would aid in the training of the PGI militias, who had long been derided by the other factions as the greenest of the green. As the snows finally began melting in April, then, the elite of both groups reentered the war with optimism in their hearts. Unfortunately, though they did not know it, the war was about to end for one of them.
Provvie(2) recruits pose for the camera
In the early weeks of April 1935, Republican soldiers stormed south on a new offensive, their goal the already war-torn city of Cork. Frank Ryan himself led the campaign, batting away NG paramilitaries like flies. Little did he know that he was being baited deep into a trap. The lack of resistance to their advance allowed the Republicans to push deep, but narrowly, into Blueshirt territory. This advance was finally stopped at the village of Aghabulloge or Acadh Bolg to the National Guard regime, a small town in northwest cork. Surrounded by natural barriers--mountains(3) to the north, a river to the south--Acadh Bolg was the perfect chokepoint. On the night of May 3, hundreds of NG units surged into the Boggeragh Mountains to the north of the village, setting up defensive barriers and as many traps as they could(4). These were led by the young Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin, recently escaped from prison in Galway and very familiar with Red(5) tactics. Cuinneagáin's actions during the latter part of the war have been the subject of much debate. Apologists for his command during the war and his later regime(6) have argued that his actions were justified due not only to the so-called brutal torture he suffered at the hands of the Reds (for which I would like to point out there is no evidence(7)) and the supposed burning of pro-Blueshirt villages in the central counties, as well as the massacre of captured NG partisans throughout the war, for which, again, there is no evidence(8). Regardless of the truth of these claims, the fact remains that Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin continues to this day to be one of the most brutal war criminals in history, with almost a million deaths directly attributable to his orders, as well as hundreds of 'disappearances'. The Battle of Acadh Bolg is perhaps the best example of his terrible violence.
Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin as a young man
While his own troops were secretly preparing in the mountains, another force assaulted the Republican troops across the river, surprising them with their viciousness and rather comprehensive armament. Though the Republicans defended their position fairly well, the decision was made by Frank Ryan to pull back; no reason to take unnecessary losses. This took them right into Gearóid Ó Cuinneagáin’s trap. From every alcove and cave and ledge in the mountains, his men opened fire on the Republicans, while the traps spread confusion and terror through their ranks. Within an hour, the disorganized Republicans were surrendering en masse, though a small group led by the general himself managed to fight their way through the mountain force and back towards Red territory. In yet another despicable act, Ó Cuinneagáin ordered the surrendered Republicans, perhaps some ten thousand men, to be summarily executed and left to rot where they were shot.
Shock and horror met the shattered remnants of Ryan’s forces when they returned to Galway. These men were the best that the Congress had to offer, and they had been entirely destroyed in one battle by the Blueshirt forces. A grim attitude quickly set in among the Republicans; to be honest, however, it had always been there. Since the beginning, the Communists and especially Red Peadar, as he would later admit in his seminal work, Fear and Freedom, had been infected with a deep negativity, almost a fatalism that defined all of their moves. While popular amongst Galwegians, the Communists knew that any rule they would ever have over the country would be an imposed one. The Irish, as was clearly shown by their whole-hearted embrace of Eoinism(9) and the bourgeois ideal embodied by the PGI, were not ready for communism and would perhaps never be ready, not until the counter-revolution had left them raw and bleeding. In this, perhaps, there was “...some dark hope, hiding from the light of day--the torture of the Blueshirts would so rape the Irish people that they would rise up of their own accord and advance the revolution…” (O’Donnell, 1954). As the year progressed the Blueshirts unrelentingly hammered Republican positions in the south. Without the cream of their force still fighting, even the strongest defense they could muster was not enough against the main Blueshirt force, especially as they had to constantly move east to deal with the so-called “Amhas Brigade”(10), a group of mainly farmers who were now acting as pro-Blueshirt guerillas in the central counties.
As the Blueshirts advanced on Galway, it became clear that Red Peadar would not repeat the mistakes of De Valera; by September, the government of the Republicans had fled Galway, and set up shop near Sligo, where, as records now show, O’Donnell was already beginning to organize what would be known as the “Red Fianna”(11). As September came and went, Galway fell, soon to be followed by the rest of of the West. By December, all that remained of Republican territory was the tiny sliver of County Sligo they controlled, filled to the brim with refugees. As the New Year approached, O’Donnell prepared to make a decision that would end the civil war and begin the guerilla one…
Notes
(1) Not actually a photo of McDermott, I’m afraid!
(2) A nickname for the PGI.
(3) To be specific, the Boggeragh mountains, not really that high, but treacherous still.
(4) Think Vietnam-style traps, though a bit less elaborate. Ouch.
(5) A nickname for the Republicans.
(6) Thpoilerth!!
(7) As your omnipotent narrator I can tell you that yes, he was tortured. Everybody’s hands are dirty.
(8) See above.
(9) The name of the initial form of Irish fascism adopted by the Blueshirts, to be distinguished from later Cunnegainism.
(10) Or the hooligan brigade in English.
(11) The Fianna are a group of warriors from Irish mythology, divided into small bands. Maybe you can see where this is going.
This is great - a deeply tragic allohistory, but supremely well-written. Might've even felt a pang of sympathy for Dev in there, somewhere. Please keep writing this!
The Irish population everywhere. Being as close as the UK is, I think it will soar there.
Well, N. Ireland will be much more heavily populated than IOTL, but as for the population, the only real impact Irish exiles will have will be on culture; people like O'Malley, who will be constantly writing novels and speaking out against the Blueshirt regime, will be common.
"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."
No one spoke out early enough or loud enough. It could have happened in a lot of places. We are lucky.
Haha, well, making someone feel sympathy for ol' Dev is a worthy accomplishment, if only to show how twisted everything's gotten.
Our poor country...
But an awesome TL
Shed a tear for the emerald isle, its fields full of beauty now trampled by the jackboot of the Blueshirt.
And thank you!
Well, for a bit in certain areas in Belfast, there will be quite a divide between Irish exiles and native proto-IRA types. A lot of them will look at what information they get out of Eoin's Ireland and nod in approval. The others will spit at it. Sooner or later, everybody but the rightest of righties will be angry though. At least once O Cunnegain comes to power.
Depends, NI might not be great either, something tells me the likes of Basil Brooke aren't going to react well to 'Papists flooding loyal Protestant Ulster'.
There will be more soon! I'm just terribly similar to Hemingway, you know. A slow, but great writer.
There will be more soon! I'm just terribly similar to Hemingway, you know. A slow, but great writer.
Glad to hear more is coming