1972

1972 by Morgan Llywelyn Page B

Book: 1972 by Morgan Llywelyn Read Free Book Online
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
Ads: Link
men belong to the Orange Order too, you see.”
    O’Connell spoke up. “I think it’s important to make a point here. The real divide in Northern Ireland is more economic than religious. One reason unionists are adamant about remaining part of the United Kingdom is because their financial wellbeing depends on it. When the British controlled this entire island they located all the heavy industry in the northeastern corner of the country to benefit the Protestant majority there. The rest of Ireland, ‘Catholic Ireland,’ was left with a largely rural and impoverished economy.
    â€œAfter World War Two a lot of formerly profitable industries in the north began to have to tighten their belts as well. But Britain is subsidising the Six Counties, so the unionists still have jobs. They don’t want to find themselves thrust into a united Ireland because the south has nothing comparable to offer them.”
    â€œEven if it did,” said Séamus McCoy, “it wouldn’t make any difference. As far as the unionists are concerned the Republic is a foreign country like darkest Africa. Some of the younger ones are unaware that this island was partitioned less than forty years ago. They assume there’s always been a Northern Ireland, a place where the best land and the best jobs are theirs practically by divine right.”
    A man sitting near Barry muttered, “Damn the Prods.”
    Dave O’Connell silenced him with a frown. “In fairness,” O’Connell said, “the vast majority of Protestants are decent people who have no desire to persecute anyone. The problem is with the sectarian bigots like the Orange Order. Unfortunately,
they control just about everything in the Six Counties, including the parliament at Stormont.”
    Before Barry fell asleep that night he thought about what he had heard.
    The face of the enemy was becoming more specific.
    In the morning the column lined up to bid farewell to Séamus McCoy. McCoy and the other training officers were being recalled to Dublin to brief GHQ. A Morris Minor driven by a middle-aged woman who looked like a schoolteacher was waiting to take him across the border. McCoy tossed his pack inside the car, returned the salute of the column, and settled himself in the passenger seat. The door slammed with the sound of finality.
    â€œThere goes a good man,” said Feargal O’Hanlon. “We’re going to miss him.”
    As the car began to pull away Barry shouted, “Slán leat, m Séamus!”
    McCoy thrust his arm out the window and waved his hand. “Slán,” he called. But he never looked back.
    Half an hour later a creamery wagon drove up. While O’Connell and the driver were tying the motorbike to the bumper, the other Volunteers clambered onto the flat-bed wagon and tried to find space for themselves among the metal milk cans. A jolting ride along rural byways terminated at an abandoned flour mill. The old red brick walls were slimy with moss; the wooden millwheel was gently rotting.
    Standing outside the mill were two men in shabby overcoats. Garland introduced one as Charlie Murphy, a member of headquarters staff with extensive experience in the north. Murphy, a short man with blunt features and no interest in small talk, brought further instructions from Dublin. He stared off into space while Garland read them. The other man went into the mill and brought out a cardboard box filled with sandwiches.
    Garland looked up. “Get that food inside you in a hurry, men. We’re pulling out soon.”
    â€œWhere are we going, sir?”

    â€œTo set up a base camp for the first phase of the campaign. It’s better if you don’t know exactly where until we get there. That way if you’re lifted, you can’t tell them anything.”
    I wouldn’t tell them anything anyway, thought Barry. Not even if they tortured me like they did Kevin Barry in 1920!

Chapter

Similar Books

Seizure

Kathy Reichs

Beyond Eighteen

Gretchen de la O

Bound by Light

Anna Windsor

Pop

Gordon Korman

Amy's Awakening

Alexandra Cameron