STATEMENT
BY MR. PATRICK COLEMAN
8
Ferran Terrace, Ballina, County Mayo.
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WAS born in the town of Sligo in the
year 1895. My father was a sawyer and he and my mother were ardent Parnellites
before the arrival of Sinn Fein. We later moved to Ballina of which my mother
was a native. I have just a hazy recollection of my grandmother, who was a
native Irish speaker, and I remember my father
I attended the Ballina Boys National School
of which I have little to note except that I was keen on Irish History,
especially anything relating to Patrick Sarsfield, Ballyneety, and his dying
words on battlefield at Landen, “Would that this had been for Ireland” when he
lay mortally wounded fighting for France. I was also impressed by Sergeant
Custume at Athlone and St. Ruth at the battle of Aughrim. From all this I made
up my mind that, if the opportunity arose, I would try to do the same and, if
necessary, die for my country.
Towards
the closing stages of my school days I was invited by my Principal Teacher, Mr. John McMahon, who was a particular
friend of an uncle of mine who was also a National Teacher, to stand for the
monitorship exam which I passed, together with two other boys, but there was no
appointment in that year, and, as I would be overage for the appointment the
following year, I was obliged to leave school. This I did and served my
apprenticeship at my father’s trade in the firm of Isaac Becketts Ltd. of Ballina.
During
this period I became a member of the National
Foresters’ Brass Band, of which I was the most junior member. On the
resignation of the Bandmaster, Mr. Jock
Campbell, a Scotsman I was appointed to take his place which I did ????????????????????????? R.I.C. and the Black
and Tans in Beckett’s Mills in January, 1921.
Sometime
in 1919 I procured a piano copy of “The Soldiers Song” and proceeded to arrange
same for the different instruments in the Band. Shortly afterwards, for the
first time in my honest belief, it was publicly played by a Brass Band in
Ireland. This took place on New Year’s Eve, when it was received by practically
everyone with just a few exceptions, at this time it was not the recognised
National Anthem. I might mention that the complete body of the Forresters were
not agreeable to the use of the Band at Sinn Fein functions; as a matter of
fact, when we used the Band for the public reception of Senator Thomas Ruane, on his release from Sligo gaol, I had to have
a few volunteer comrades smuggle out the instruments. This we did and headed
the Volunteer parade to the railway station. As I happened to be very familiar
with the bugle of which I was very fond, I blew ‘fall in’ before all the
Volunteer route marches, playing a bugle march on the way and particularly on
our return to draw attention of the people (who were not by any means all in
favour of us0 to the Parade. I have been official bugler to all the deceased
I.R.A. men ever since, of whom, I regret to say, there has been quite a large
number.
We
used the band after the formation of the Irish National Volunteers (Redmonds)
until the split when I, with a few others, including Stephen Donnelly, Frank Flynn
and Denis Sheerin, broke away and
formed a Company of the Irish Volunteers in the town Hall early in 1917. From
then onwards we paraded twice weekly under difficulties, as we had no
instructor, until suddenly remembered my school days and thought of our being
drilled by one of the teachers, a Mr.
Patrick Quinn, and I realised he
must have had some book or manual to assist him. I decided to search the
school, which I personally did, and discovered in the Principal’s desk a
British manual of infantry training which I took with me and closely studied,
and from which I subsequently trained the Company. I made it my business to
contact all the soldiers returning for the British army in order to show we
were not hostile, make them sympathetic to our cause and if possible, and they
were suitable, to join the ranks of the Irish Volunteers. Some of these men
were very helpful, notably Patrick Lynch
who gave us instruction in signalling, also an ex-Lieutenant named Fred Quinlan who gave me signalling
equipment.
There
was nothing unusual to report until our activities in breaking up British
recruiting meetings in the early part of 1918. We compelled them to go indoors
with their meetings and even then we succeeded I creating an uproar inside
although I myself and a few others were unceremoniously chucked out several
times.
We now come to the preparation for the coming
of the General Election in 1918, which preparations included guards and escorts
with the ballot boxes, which meant full time duty for well over a fortnight. I
might also say that our numbers increased owing to the Conscription scare but
dwindled down to our original numbers after the crisis was over.
Before
the war ended I had a letter from my uncle, who was serving with the British in
France, written to me from Folkstone to say; “Dear Pappy, I am leaving
Folkstone. Pray for me, I am a Sinn Feiner”. Sometime later I received word
form the War Office that my uncle was killed at Quincy on the Western Front, As
I was named as his next-of-kin, I had to submit his last letter to the War
Office in claiming his last effects. I sent the above detailed letter to them
and was paid in full, despite the remark about being a Sinn Feiner.
In
1919 we commenced to make bombs from the ordinary drain or down pipes and to
organise and drill Companies in country districts. We has practically no arms
excepting one .22 rifle and a few .38 revolvers, one of which was very defective
as the striker didn’t hit the cap.
In
April 1920, following an order from G.H.Q., we raided in Income Tax Offices and
destroyed all documents.
We
raided several houses for arms and got shotguns and ammunition. I called at the
house of one of the National Teachers, Mr.
Frank Courell, a former officer in the Redmond Volunteers, where I knew
there was a Martini-Henry rifle (single shot) which, on demand, was immediately
handed over to me. I had a brother in the British Army who brought me 100
rounds of .303 ammunition which he smuggled home to me from the Russian front;
he also instructed us on the rifle, one Lee-Enfield having been brought from
G.H.Q.
About
this time the Sinn Fein, later the Republican, Courts were formed and I was
given the added responsibility of being the Officer attached to the courts. The
first case we had to deal with was the two fellows named Tully and Boylan who had
committed several robberies. We arrested them and recovered all the stolen
property, the R.I.C. having closed their eyes to all this. We removed them to
our own particular prison, which was in a bog. I would like to say that in the
raid on Boylan’s, his younger
brother said to me, although I was masked,” I know you; you are in the Band and
your name is Jordan”. I told him
that he was a very clever boy and was inwardly delighted at being taken for
Jordan, who was very hostile to us indeed and still is to this day. Another
culprit was arrested and it was decided to deport the three, Tully, Boylan and Rafter. As the trains
were uncertain in our area, owing to the railway men refusing to carry British
troops or munitions, we took them by car to Castlerea. The escort consisted of
Stephen Donnelly, myself and another whose name I cannot remember. The car was
driven by a man called William Hennigan
of Corcoran Terrace, Ballina. As we left Ballina we had to make a detour as the
R.I.C. was watching the bridge.
On
arrival in Castlerea I was instructed to contact the Local Company Captain.
This I did in Claffey’s public house.
He told me one of his men was attempting to desert by train on his way to
America and asked me to remove him. I agreed if he sent a man with me to
identify the deserter. We went to the station where, to my consternation, the
place was swarming with military and R.I.C., the railway men having refused to
take them further west. However, I went to the booking office, got three
tickets, gave them to my three prisoners with some money and warned then never
to come back. We then went along the train and located the deserter. I ordered
him out and we took him right through the military and police and passed a
detective at the barrier who scrutinised us but let us through – to my utter
amazement and relief of this day: I still do not know how we got through. It
may have been through the railwaymen refusing to man the train for the west. We
removed our prisoner to the Workhouse where we handed him over.
We
got word that a wagon of petrol had arrived at the station for the R.I.C. We
proceeded to the station and commandeered a lorry, the property of Hugh Ruddy.
We discovered the wagon in the Goods yard and, as we approached, we noticed an
R.I.C. man named Flanagan near the wagon. I could see he was unarmed so we
pretended to ignore him, opened up the wagon and started to unload the petrol
which was in the usual two- gallon tins, and placed them on the lorry. As we
were about to move off I noticed the R.I.C. man had disappeared. We went to Paddy O’Hora’s garage about 100 yards
from the station where we had a car that we used on official operations. We put
about half the petrol in this garage and only then discovered that the R.I.C.
man was inside. He appeared to get very frightened and to be about to faint and
went over to lean against the wall. We arrived on with the job of unloading
and. Strange to relate, he never reported the matter, about the station or the
garage, because I was closely questioned on several occasions but not about the
petrol. We then dumped the remainder of our load in another place and returned
the lorry to Paddy’s yard.
I
was in Quinlan’s public-house when I
noticed two soldiers passing by the door. After a while one of them returned
and came into the pub and asked me;” Would I buy a soldier’s kit”. I
immediately thought that this might give me an opening and I invited his pal
and himself to have a drink and, after having a fair quantity, I called him
aside and said,” While I have no use for an army kit, I could do with some.303
ammunition”. He did not seem to like this idea from the point of view that
there was a very close check kept on a small station, but I suggested that just
a little from each of his comrades would not be missed. He promised to have a
try and I arranged for him to meet me at the Forester’s Hall. Over a few visits
he brought nothing until this particular night when he arrived while I was
playing billiards. I spoke to him as he came in and told him to have a seat
which he did well away form anyone else. As I was about to play a shot with my
back to the door I got a prod in the back and thought it was one of the boys
having a joke and looked round quickly to discover a British officer with a
drawn revolver. He shouted “Hands up” and searched everyone with the exception
of the soldier, who was also in uniform. The office left and immediately Boyle of the Border Regiment (the soldier I spoke of) produced 50 rounds of
ammunition which he handed to me and then quickly left.
On
a later occasion with two other officers named Flynn and Ginty we were
having a conversation opposite the Moy Hotel and, as some British soldiers
passed by, Ginty clocked some coins in his pocket and one of them shouted that
“One of them fellows has an automatic”, and started to search us when Boyle
rushed over the street saying “These fellows are alright”. Foyle, who was half a Scotsman, was inclined to be helpful. I
called him the “Glasgow Irishman.” He was shortly transferred after this to
some other unit, I never could find out where.
It
was arranged to have a crack at the British Coastguard station in Enniscrone
which was garrisoned by about seventeen or eighteen men. I was instructed to go
Enniscrone in that Thursday evening and bring revolvers, wire cutters and
ropes. With two men I put the stuff in the well of Anthony Boland’s side-car
and proceeded on our way. On reaching Enniscrone I was given four men and
ordered to take up position outside the main gate in order to intercept any
coastguards returning from the town. After an hour or so, six of them were seen
coming. We allowed them to almost pass us when we pulled our guns and ordered
them to keep going to a cottage some distance away where I placed them under an
armed guard. They were unarmed. One of them turned to me and said, “If I was in
there (meaning the station) with a machine gun I’d let you b.....…s have it”.
“You are not in there chum, you are out here”, which shut him up.
Shortly
after joining my other comrades we opened the attack by Paddy O’Beirne and Paddy
O’Connell jumping the wall and disarming the sentry while we were rushing
the building. At this stage Mrs.
Livermore, wife of the Chief Coastguard, who must have seen the disarming,
opened a window and started to scream at the top of her voice. She nearly could
be heard in Ballina, nine miles away. This aroused the rest of the garrison and
some of them opened fire on us as we were rushing into the attack. One of our
party had the heel of his boot shot off although we were rushing straight at
the building. The shot must have come from an angle. We dashed round the corner
to a side entrance which was open and surprised a Coastguard cooking fish at
the range. The sizzling fish must have partly drowned the screams as we got him
by surprise. We forced him with another Coastguard up the stairs in front of us
and disarmed the remainder of them. We then collected the arms and ammunition
and took them downstairs, when one of them said to me, “Are you going to burn
the station?” I said “Yes”, and he asked me could he have his box with his
private papers. I agreed and said we were not going to interfere with anything
private, only the property of the British Government. We went towards his room
accompanied by a Volunteer form Enniscrone Company holding a lighted candle
and, as we entered the room; I noticed a belt with a revolver and ammunition
hanging from a hook inside the door. I said, “This isn’t what you came for, is
it?” he said “No, just my box”. This he then took downstairs and shortly
afterwards rushed in to say that “Military were coming from Scurmore”. We got
into position to defend the captured station with the captured rifles, but it
turned out to be a false alarm.
I
went up to Enniscrone to get a car to remove the stuff and, while on my way
there, I heard two vices on the road, one of them asking the Chief Coastguard
Livermore, who was returning form the town, “Was he needed at the station as he
heard some shooting and thought there might be some shot or wounded.” Livermore
replied, “There is no one required at the station”, and the voice said, “Your
station has been captured”. Livermore said “Impossible” and walked towards the
station which he entered to find our boys in full possession. I crossed to find
out who owned the other voice, questioned him to find he was Dr. Michael Coolican of Ballina. I
asked him why he told Livermore about the shooting and capture of the station
and his reply was, “I am a Doctor and thought I would have been of some
assistance to either side”. I suggested he should go home until called for,
which he did. His uncle was the Crown Solicitor.
I
got the car, loaded up and proceeded to Carralavin, Bonniconlon. On the way we
picked up two guides, Tom Loftus and Anthony Kerrigan, who took us to the
arranged dump where we placed the stuff (about 14 or 15 rifles), the same
amount of revolvers and quantity of ammunition. The rifles were Canadian Ross
pattern. I returned to Enniscrone and met the rest of my comrades outside
Rafter’s. As we were about to move off Miss
Rafter asked me would I give a lift to a priest. I agreed as I considered
it would be good cover as the military were at Bunree Bridge, our only way
back.
We
started on our way when the priest asked me if I saw the
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the job having been completed during my absence. He then asked me if I knew it
was captured and I said “No”. To my complete astonishment he said, “I was in
charge of it”. I said nothing. We were
nearing Ballina and, after rounding a bend, we were challenged by a military
party who fired over the car. I stopped and pretended to be very indignant over
the shooting, the priest nearly upsetting everything by refusing to put up his
hands. They made a complete search of us and the car. We continued on to the
Imperial hotel where we dumped the priest, whom we thought might be some form
of cover but nearly ruined everything instead. The next day there was a big
number of men from Enniscrone arrested who had nothing to do with the attack.
Shortly
after the above attack we also decided to attack the usual night patrol of
R.I.C. and tans and selected the junction of the Moy Lane and Knox Street as a
good position, even though it was close to the barracks. On the selected night
we took up our positions with the intention of jumping on and disarming the
patrol. After being there some time a scout came to say the patrol had returned
to the barracks by another route. We then disbanded only to discover about
fifteen minutes later that the report was false and took up positions again.
The patrol came down the street comprised of one Sergeant, two Constables and
Black and Tan named Barnes.
Immediately they came abreast of us we rushed them, seized the Sergeant and the
two R.I.C. men and pulled them down the Lane and disarmed them. The Tan broke
away and opened fire through sheer fright and dashed up the street over the
wall and into the hospital where he was given sanctuary. A party of our fellows
followed him but failed to locate him. In the general scuffle with the others
the Sergeant was fatally wounded and died later. Regan, one of the Constables, was creating such uproar at being so
close to the barracks, I had to silence him with the butt of my revolver. My
mask slipped and the other R.I.C. man named Nangle said, “I know you”. Despite this we let him go unharmed and
when I was captured later on, he never gave me away.
The
Belfast Boycott took up a lot of our time towards the end of 1920, raiding the
railway station on several occasions destroying all classes of goods, in
particular large consignments of treacle.
At
this time we had a dump of shotguns in a yard belonging to a man named grimes.
As we thought the yard was under observation we decided to shift them to Becketts’ Mills. This we did. About the
end of November, 1920, a big round-up took place which, to the best of my
recollection, was general throughout the country. As my home was not raided I
became very suspicious and went ’on the run’ without leaving the town. A few others and myself used to sleep in
Garden street in my girl friend’s house. This was a house where I used to
conceal revolvers and ammunition. While these people were devoted to our side,
we considered it a very safe pace as my friend had two uncles in the R.I.C. I
also stored our books and documents there. One of the boys of the house was subsequently
interned.
We
again got suspicious of the new dump in Beckett’s and again decided to shift
the stuff. With a party I entered the Mill and approached what was known as the
red gate in order to let in the expected car for transport. I slid the gate
sideways and was surprised by an R.I.C. patrol who had been watching us through
a small hole in the gate. I grappled with one of them to give time to my party
to escape. This they did. The rest of the patrol opened the gate, shoved me
inside and ordered me to proceed to the Mill. I continued to move away from the
dump when Head-Constable Wray struck
me on the head with his revolver and pushed me towards where the guns were. He
evidently knew where they were hidden. I was place placed in the charge of a Constable O’Rourke who said to me,
“Coleman you b…….d if there is one shot fired I’ll shoot you dead”. The guns
were removed to the Crossley tender and brought with myself to the R.I.C.
Barracks. I was pushed into the Inspector’s office and questioned by at least
four of them at the same time including D.I.
White and Sergeant O’Brien. The
latter was particularly aggressive and repeatedly struck me on the head with
his revolver. I refused to disclose any information as to “what had me in the
Mill, who were my comrades etc. etc”. I was a kind confused with all the blows
on the head when D.I. White, who was dangling my revolver I his hand, said,
“This is Sergeant Armstrong’s gun isn’t it”. I made no reply as the question
was obviously a trap, because I was responsible for having the revolvers
captured in that ambush, brought to another part of our area in case they might
be got on any of our fellows in the local Company.
I
was then taken back to the day-room where I was severely beaten by Black &
Tans with the D.I. looking on. I was then removed to the barrack yard at about
2 o’clock in the morning, and put up against the wall and told I was going to
be shot for not disclosing the names of my comrades. Five or six men took up
the firing position about ten paces from me. I asked could I say a prayer and
reply was, “You so and so, you wouldn’t give us much of a chance to say a
prayer”. I stood to attention and heard the order “Present”, “Fire” and then
heard what I took to be a volley and fell to the ground.
After a while I opened my eyes, looked up and
saw the chimneys of the Imperial Hotel which adjoined the barracks and said to
myself, “This isn’t Heaven anyway, because the chimneys looked more like Hell”.
I then learnt that the rifles had not been fired at all but the D.I. had
discharged two rounds from a double-barrelled shotgun behind them. I was
dragged back and put me in a cell, the D.I. remarking, “We are not finished
with you yet, Coleman”. I was left there until the next evening when my mother
sent me in some food from home.
I
was later taken to the day-room where I was again questioned by a young man
dressed in civilian clothes whom I never saw before. He seemed to be a higher
rank than anyone in the Station and I overheard two R.I.C. men saying that he
was Captain Harrison from the 17th
Lancers who was then in Galway. While interrogating me he threatened me with a
small automatic revolver. This took about a half-hour, and the D.I. took me
back to the cell, and, taking a lighted paraffin lamp with him, said, “Coleman,
you white-livered f.......r, if you weren’t going to be shot tonight I’d burn
the bloody skin of you with this lamp”. Later on, Flanagan, who was inclined to be a friendly R.I.C. man, came to me
and said, “I’, in as much danger from our murder gang as you are as they are
after shooting at D.I. White from the bank corner.” Unfortunately they missed
him, they evidently thought he was pulling his full weight, but he certainly
was, as I know. At about midnight I was ordered out of the barracks and placed
in the middle car of three cars. We moved off past the railway station out the
Pontoon road which crosses the line at Rehins, about a mile and a half form the
town. I was ordered out of the car.
The
night was not fully dark and I was placed in charge of a man in civilian
clothes, as were the rest of the party, (the usual attire for the Murder Gang).
As all the others had faded into the darkness I decided to jump on my escort
and if possible make a run for it. I had my hands over my head and started to
edge towards him; he spotted it and said, “Coleman, if you come any closer I’ll
give it to you in the guts”. Shortly afterwards a number of them came back and
ordered me to double down a narrow country road which led to Ballinahaglish Graveyard.
I started to run at top speed down this road when fire was opened on me and I
was hit by a bullet which struck me in the right thigh and knocked me on the
road. I got up again and started to run towards the old school when I noticed a
black mass on the road. This was the first car of the convoy and was drawn
across the road to bar my escape. Fire was opened on me from the car. I then
saw what they were about to do and wheeled sharply to run back when I received
another bullet in the right shoulder. I turned and jumped the ditch with a fire
fence on top. I shall never know how I managed to do so. I headed towards the
Pontoon road, crossing the railway line and the road and dropped into a marshy
field and made my way as best I could through flooded fields in which I was
nearly drowned as I fell several times through the loss of blood. I was making
for a house which was on hilly ground; it took me a long time to reach this
house on account of climbing the hill. I got to the door and knocked without
reply. I went a short distance away and lay down for a short time. I then got
up and rushed at the door, which went in with me, where I fell on the floor I
the kitchen. I saw a man standing over me with a hurricane lamp and I
recognised John Reape of Cloonturk.
I asked him for something that would make bandages and a tourniquet. He got me
strips of cloth, helped me to strip and get into bed where I made the
tourniquet for the thigh wound but could not do anything for my shoulder. As
the bedclothes were soaked in blood I told him to burn all the clothes, which
he did. I then asked him to get me to a priest. He said he would carry me to
one at Rathduff. I said he wouldn’t be able and to get me into some out-house
as I feared for their safety in case I was followed.
But
the ‘Murder Gang’ evidently thought I was dead. He took me to a small stable
where I lay down on the hay. I asked him to get in touch with Patrick Flaherty,
who lived about a mile away, to let the boys know where I was. He covered me
with hay and left. I fell asleep and the next morning I heard a noise at the
door. Someone came in and commenced to fumble through the hay. I lay quiet,
thinking I was about to be captured again when a man’s hand pulled the hay from
round my face. I then recognised him as a Ballina man named Paudge Sweeney who was not a Volunteer
but was in sympathy with us. When he saw the state I was in he started to cry
and produced a bottle of brandy of which I took a slug. Sweeney was good enough
to make his way out to me through the round-up cordon with a bridle on his arm
on the pretext of looking for a stray horse. He was horse trainer and a
fearless horseman. He took considerable risk in coming out to me. Reape came
back and told me he had a cart to take down to Crossmolina road where Denis
Sheeran was to pick me up for removal to Dr.
John Crowley at Ballycastle. Owing to the fact that all the cars had been
commandeered that day, no one turned up and I was brought to Frank Curran’s of Gortoher who put me
in his own bed, sending his wife and children to Ballina. Curran was a
Volunteer.
After
sleeping for some time I woke up to see a man in a trench coat in the room.
Again I immediately thought that the ‘Murder Gang’ had caught up with me. I
must have looked very wildly at him as he said, “Don’t you know me?” I
recognised him then as Dr. David Rowland
of Ballina. He proceeded to dress my wounds and, as there was no anaesthetic
available, he gave me plenty of brandy during the operation. The Doctor said I
was very lucky as both bullets had gone right through. He left and the
following evening, Denis Sheeran arrived with a car and conveyed me to Dr.
Crowley at Ballycastle who dressed my wounds again and told me, after
examination, that one of the bullets had just missed the femoral artery.
I
was then taken to the home of the Company Captain of the Lacken area and later
removed to Corcoran’s of Doonadobe
where I was attended over a period by Dr. Crowley.
Towards
the end of February I attempted to walk which I did after some time. I went to
the Fair in Ballycastle in order to meet some friends who would assure my
mother that they had seen me. I was afterwards brought to Patsy Kennedy’s at Barn Hill where I remained for some weeks and
used to call at a house called Kelly’s of Barn Hill. Mrs. Kelly was a trained
nurse and a member of the local Cumann na nBan. She used to examine my wounds.
As Doctor Crowley’s house had been raided for me, we guessed that they knew I
was in the area. I was in Kelly’s one evening when Tomas rushed in to say they
were coming over the road. I went out the back door, running across the haggard
and making for a point on the hill where I had hidden my rifle which I
previously borrowed from the local Company. I also had a revolver which Sheeran
gave me when removing me to Ballycastle. After securing the rifle I took cover
and saw the Tans pointing in my direction from the three lorries which kept
moving slowly towards Ballycastle.
That
night I decided it was time to move on although I had been training the local
Volunteers in the use of the rifle. I then went to the house of a man named Moyles who lived the other side of
Killala. He was another Irish Volunteer officer. I decided to rejoin my
comrades whom I knew were around Culleens in the County of Sligo, and on our
way to Ballina I saw the lights of the tree lorries in the distance. I dropped
off the side car we were using and let them go through and learned that they
had gone direct and raided Michael
Kelly’s of Barn Hill which I had left. I spent a night on the way in Anthony Clarke’s of Coyne’s of Carragary and from there went to Leonard’s of the Griddle.
There
was also a man called Ronan from
Clare, who was ‘on the run’ and had been badly beaten by the Ballina R.I.C. We
were informed that a local attack was pending on Easkey R.I.C. Barracks and as
it was well fortified, it was decided to try to effect the capture of it by a
ruse. This was to be done by setting fire to a garage belonging to Dr. Scott to
draw them out of the barracks. This was done but failed to get them out and,
after a prolonged exchange of rifle fire, we withdrew. One of the local fellows
named John McGowan said to me: “The
night of the attack on the Coastguard station there was one bastard from
Ballina I would like to meet, the fellow
who made me hold a candle to give him light while he went upstairs with a
Goastguard”. I said, “What was the matter with that you were only holding a
candle?” He replied, “I lived beside the station and I was afraid he would
recognise me”. I quietly said, “I was the bastard from Ballina” when he
immediately walked into a deep hole in the river which we were crossing at the
time and I had some difficulty in fishing him out.
We
returned to Leonard’s, Ronan and I.
and on the following Sunday we heard a noise in the early morning, and Leonard
noticed the Glengarry cap of an Auxiliary at the window. He came in, ordered us
out of bed and searched the room. As he was leaving an R.I.C. Sergeant came in
and said, “I think, Sir you should bring them in. They might be ‘on the run’. He
ordered us out to the tenders where we found a number of other prisoners. We
moved into Easkey where tea was brought to us by Mr. Jim Devanny of the Hotel. We were then taken into Easkey
Barracks where we were questioned. I gave the name of Michael Walsh of Carragary. Someone said to bring the policeman for
the district. He came in and said he is not from Carragary. I then said that my
name was Coleman. They jumped to their feet and rushed me to a cell by myself.
After a while an Auxiliary came in swinging a cosh and said, “Why did you give
a wrong name?” I replied, “If I could evade arrest by giving a wrong name, I am
justified”. He agreed and left, to my surprise.
Shortly
after I was brought to the barrack yard and a number of them scrutinised me
closely and said, “You are the so-and-so who took the despatches from us at
Kilfree Junction”. They were confusing me with another Paddy Coleman.
We
were then taken to Ballina and on the way this Auxiliary leant back to me and
said, “Coleman, are you in the I.R.A.?” I said, “Yes”. “You damn fool if you
were not”, he replied, rather a very strange remark to my mind.
After
arriving in Ballina I was placed in a cell. When it seemed that our escort had
left, the door of the cell to which Ronan and I had been brought was opened by
an R.I.C. Sergeant called O’Brien
and two Black & Tans. One of them was named Ross. They came in and proceeded to kick me round the cell, never
interfering with Ronan at all. The Auxiliaries came back and we were brought
from the cell which was in total darkness out into the light. One Auxiliary
raised his hand and thinking I was in for a blow, I ducked. He said, “Has
anyone been beating you?” I said “Yes”. He ordered a parade of both R.I.C. and
Tans and said to me, “Point out the men that beat you”. I refrained as I did
not know I was being moved and naturally I would get a lot more beating when
the Auxiliaries were gone. He said if he knew the man or men he would have
great pleasure in shooting him. He then ordered us out to the lorries and we
proceeded for Tubbercurry. On arrival there some of them who had been playing cricket
in a field came over and one of them went to strike me with a stump when
another intervened and prevented him I was double handcuffed at the time.
Before
being taken to the R.I.C. barracks, Major
Davies, O/C. of the Company of Auxiliaries, called me aside and said,
“Coleman, you may consider yourself damn lucky as we had orders to shoot you if
we knew who you were this morning”. I might add that at all times I was well
treated by them.
On
entering the R.I.C. barracks I was accosted by a man in civilian clothes who
said, “Coleman, we have you for shooting of Sergeant Fallon of Ballymote”, and then, after tearing my shirt, he
started to hammer me. Ronan and I were removed to separate cells. One of the
Auxies brought in a meal as we were still their prisoners and he asked Ronan,
“Are you the dangerous fellow?” Ronan replied, “No”. That night a hand came
round the door a plate of bread and cheese with a revolver on the top. I
removed the food leaving the revolver on the plate and handed it back. This man
then appeared at the door laughing and said, “Coleman is that not any use to
you?” And my reply was, “Not under the circumstances”. He went away smiling
broadly.
Some
time later I was brought out to the day-room; it would be about 2 o’clock in
the morning. There was a man in civilian clothes who asked me did I know him. I
said, “No”. He kept repeating this question for some time, changing it to “Did
you ever see me before?” I again said, “No”, although I knew he was the arms
intelligence officer who closely questioned me in Ballina. He was Captain Harrison who had come from
Galway and I heard later he was travelling in an armoured car. A few days later
Ronan and I were handcuffed and taken out in the custody of R.I>C. and Tans
when a Black & Tan named Ross said to me, “You won’t escape this time”.
This was said in the hearing of another Black & Tan named Foster who had been friendly with
Ronan, and he informed Major Davies of what he heard with the result that a
tender of Auxiliaries followed us all the way into Ballina from Tubbercurry.
We
were kept about a fortnight in Ballina and while there an R.I.C. named Nangle told me that D.I. White, on his
way back from visiting a Major Ormsby,
had been fired at and wounded. There was terrific commotion in the barracks
that night and my cell door was hammered on with the butt of a rifle by an
R.I.C. man named Ryan, who said,
“Coleman, you so and so, I’ll shoot you tonight anyhow”. He came from Portumna.
I then heard a voice ordering him away from the door. I recognised the voice as
a Black & Tan named Earl who was
friendly towards me and I would like to say that another Black & Tan named Glover (who later married a Ballina
girl) said, “Ryan, you will not be allowed to interfere with a prisoner”. When
speaking to them later they told me they both drew their guns on Ryan. Glover
also told me he was on the raid where a Volunteer named Tommy Howley had been mortally wounded and while dying on the lorry
D.I. White, who had his arm in a sling from the slight wound he got earlier,
ground his foot into Howley’s wounds. White was a native of Strokestown, County
Roscommon.
I
was shortly afterwards removed to Eglinton Street R.I.C. barracks Galway and
placed in a room where a number of men kept filing by me. I recognised some of
them as belonging to the Murder gang who tried to shoot me at Rehins Bridge.
After about two hours I was taken to Galway jail. As I was being taken in the
gate an R.I.C. man said to me, “Coleman, you b...........d, you are not sorry
to be going in here.”
After
some time I was taken to Renmore barracks for Court martial where I remember
seeing five officers with Colonel presiding. A Major Sherry was prosecutor. He commenced his statement about being
found in possession of a revolver. I had already refused to recognise the Court.
The Colonel interrupted Sherry, saying, “As a prisoner does not recognise the
Court you cannot examine him”. I asked permission to speak, which was granted.
I immediately charged D.I. White and a number of police in Ballina with beating
and ill-treating me while in custody. The Colonel said, “I’ll adjourn the Court
and have these people summoned a witnesses on another occasion”.
I
was brought before the same Court about a fortnight later when the same Colonel
said, “I cannot get these witnesses to attend. Have you anyone who can bear out
your statement.” I said, “Unfortunately, I have not, but I would like to thank
you and the Court for a fair hearing.”
I
was then taken back to the jail where I was later informed by a Major Splendid that I had been
sentenced to two years hard labour. After some time I was told by a warder that
a new prisoner had arrived and, as by now we were practically running the jail
ourselves, I went down to see him. He turned out to be a hotel keeper from
Lisdoonvarna; I think his name was O’Connor,
who was in for a trivial offence. He asked me was there anything doing at all
here. I asked him did he know anyone in Galway. He said he could get anything
he wanted in Toher’s Hotel in
Eglinton Street. I got him to write a note which asked for a quart of whiskey
and I took it to a warder named Dan
Renihan who, after some time, returned with it. I procured a thin bottle
form the hospital, broke the lamp hole in the door of the cell and gave
O’Connor the full of the bottle. I met him next morning when he claimed I had
saved his life. I, with the warder and my comrades, also enjoyed the remainder
of it. I just mention this to show how well we had matters in our own hands.
Later
on we became very discontented and decided to burn the jail. We put barricades
at all entrances. The warders handed up the keys. There were about fifty of us
(Volunteers) there at this time. We broke into the paint store and spilled
turpentine and other liquids to start the fire. We had the fire going well when
the military and R.I.C. surrounded the jail. They had to send the Engineers to
force a way in. Among the military I noticed Captain Harrison of the 17th Lancers for the first time
in uniform. The police rushed in and proceeded to beat us up. In consequence
about six of us were removed to hospital where we were until our release in
January 1922.
Before
concluding my statement I have asked Captain
Briody to allow me to add the following;-- “I claim to be the only prisoner
who succeeded in making my escape from the notorious ‘Murder Gang’, who were
based in Galway City.”
