Black and Tans. Chapter three. Clountreem

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CHAPTER THREE . CLOUNTREEM.

Father Ricard Meagher was in bed. Beside him his boyfriend mumbled ”Why did you become a priest?”

The 48 year old priest sat up and thought for a moment as he stroked the 25 year old athelete’s hair. The plump priest had tight pale red curls and a very round face. His skin had light brown freckles and was naturally smiley.

”Good question” said the chubby priest ”It was a mother’s vocation to some extent. You know growing up on a farm in Leitrim was not ideal for a bookish and dreamy boy like me. I was at the national school – three years ahead of myself. I was never attracted to girls so that was no barrier.  They say God calls you. Well I wanted and education. That was the only way to get it. So I was an altar boy and attentive to the parish priest. I got to the diocesan college and then to Maynooth. Then there was a year in Rome – splendid year. Then it was back to Maynooth to be a scholar priest.  ”

”So only for a career – not for God” said the young man sitting up. Benedict Thompson had chestnut hair and was broad shouldered. He was very muscular and 5’8”.

”Benedict” said Fr Meagher ”I believe in God at the time. It was only after I was ordained I lost my faith.”

”But God exists – everyone knows that. How can you not believe in God.?”

”Reason – a relentless process of logic. I also read the Golden Bough. The really amazing thing about the Vatican is I had access to every book on the Index of Prohibited Books. I read them all. My canon!” he laughed camply.

”Well you should not be a priest if you do not believe. There you are preaching at mass”

”There are certain things we have to say in life. The noble lie such as I really liked the Christmas present. There are certain things we must never say – such as I love a man.”

”But is this love – can this really be love?”

”Yes of course it can. It is from my side” said Meagher looking hurt

”When I was a schoolboy there were some other boys I fancied. I did not do much. But I have danced with girls and kissed girls. What we are doing. It is sodomy. Isn’t it wrong?”

”No it is not. Just because society say it is a bad thing does not mean that it really is a bad thing. It has always existed even in Ancient Egypt”

”My father says that sodomy was invented by the English. They brought it to Ireland. Their soldiers raped Irish boys to turn them against nature.”

”nonsense. I am not saying that no English soldier ever did that. I never heard of a case though” he said in his Irish Midlands accent.

”How did you come to be down here in the countryside if you hate it so much?”

”It was going very well at Maynooth – lecturing in Philosophy. I was in the frame to be a professor. There was this beautiful seminarian – aged 21. He and I had a fling. Turned out a bishop had the hots for him too. The bishop found out and became jealous. Now I am exiled to the countryside. Anyway I make the best of it. Until you came along it was like the dark side of the moon. There were occasional escapades when I went to Cork or Limerick. I know where to meet men of my bent. Certain parks of public conveniences. You would never guess what sort of men you meet there. The most normal seeming men. Married men with children. Not just sailors. Sometimes I met policemen there who were seeking a bit of diversion. But sometimes the police raid these places. But I was terrified of arrest. I actually got arrested twice. I managed to talk my way out of it – I persuaded them I was a priest. I had them fetched priests who are friends of mine who vouched for me that I really am a priest. Once they knew I was a priest I was released. The RIC wuld never charge a priest with gross indecency. It is not the RIC I am afraid of so much. It is if the bishop gets word of it. He might send mr tyo Equatorial Africa. I applied to go to lands with Napoleonic law like France or Italy”

”Napoleonic Law what is that?”

”You know the Code Napoleon. He set up a new system o f law. The crucial thing is he aboloshed the law against sodomy. Maybe because his brother Louise was a Ganymede.”

”So in France manly love is legal.”

”It is and in Italy. But then you came along and I wanted to stay here. There were a few men in the parish I sensed might be of my persuasion. But I dare not approach them in case I was wrong. Then in confession you told me of your urges and well  – here we are!”

”Oh well could be fun.”

”Why are you stepping out with Assumpta Mullins?”

”Well she is a nice girl – decent family. Pleasant – fair of face.”

”Oh you are not going to marry her are you?”

”I might do”

”Oh please don’t leave me?”

”Why would I need to do that even if I do get married?”

”Well good point. You vow to swear off other women when you wed – not to swear off men.”

”But she might be suspicious. When I am going back to my parents well sometimes I saw 3 miles is too far to walk home from work so I spend the night with you”

”Yes, how charitable of me to let a young man stay over. I shelter the sojoruner. Corporal works of mercy and all that!”

”She might grow a bit suspicious of me sharing a room with you and even a bed.”

”Only in Ireland is this not seen as evidence that one is homosexial”

”What os homosecual”

”That is a new wrd a Germna doctor invented. No more sodomite and catimite. These are opprobbrious”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Black and Tans. Chapter Two. Training

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Louis arrived at Liverpool docks. He soon embarked on a ship to Dublin. Up the gangplank walked all sorts.

There were Irish people returning to Hibernia. There were English folk going there for various reasons. There were navvies, students, servants, the jobless, widows, babes in arms, barmen and surgeons.

Louis found himself a seat. His travel warrant did not extend to a berth. The ship began its voyage over the swelling wave. Louis chatted to a middle aged Irishman. The kindly old chap wore some rosary beads around his neck. He agreed to guard Louis’s seat as he walked out onto the deck. The Irish Sea was unusually rough that night. Louise felt the ocean undulating beneath the ship. The night was silent but for the sound of the mighty ship slicing through the foaming waves. A year and a half ago German U boats had been here – sinking ships sailing between Ireland and England. What were the Sinn Feiners doing then? Helping the people who were drowning hundreds of Irish civilians. Louis saw the lights on the mainland recede from view. He was alone on deck. If he fell into the deep no one would miss him till morning. He stayed well back from the rail. Then the wind picked up and began to wail. His reception by Ireland seemed portentous to him. He slept in his chair.

It was dawn as the ship sailed into Dublin Bay. Louis walked out onto deck – the sun was to the stern. His saw the gorgeous city with its domes and steeples. The seagulls circled round cawing and he breathed deep of the salt air. So this at last was Ireland – the first time he had clapped eyes on it. He gazed on the strands and headlands as well as the cityscape.

The ship became deadslow as she negotiated her way to the wharf. The water was coated with oil. Finally the gangplank went up and the complement disembarked. It was mid morning. Louis buttoned up his British warm and looked up at the leaden sky. So this was it – the land of 40 shades of grey. Ireland was the only place rainier than England. On the horizon he saw the Dublin Mountains.

Louis asked his way to Beggar’s Bush Barracks. No one batted an eyelid. He saw a few soldiers in uniform. Not all of them were armed. It was a sign that Dublin was not as dangerous as he had been led to believe. Dublin seemed no different to any English city had had seen – and he had seen them all. Was Ireland really a foreign country? The accent was more or less Liverpudlian. The signs were virtually all in English. He recognised the types of people and the behaviour. France had been different. He had visited Germany before the war and that had been visibly different. During the war Louis had briefly served in Egypt. That had been another world. But Ireland and England? Peas in a pod.

Louis reached Beggar’s Bush with his duffel bag in hand. Louis approached the dimunutive young sentry on duty. The sentry stiffened as he approached and seemed to prepare to raise his bayonet. ”Good morning, excuse me” Louise said diffidently. ”I am here to join the Royal Irish Constabulary. I have the travel warrant and the…”

”’Oh yes” said the sentry relaxing visibly.”You are the third one this morning.” said that man in an indistinct northern English accent. The sentry threw a glance behind him ”Officer of the guard!” he said loudly.

Out came an officer – perhaps 23 years old. His uniform was spotless and his revolver was burnished. He threw up a quivering salute. Louis was nonplussed. He was no longer a soldier. He hesitated a moment before dropping his bag and saluting back.

”Good morning – Lieutenant Miller” said the young man a shade under 6 foot tall. He  had jet black hair and small dark eyes. There was an astonishing degree of self assurance to him. Even fully clothed it was evident that he was a muscular man.

”Louis Limtay sir, I am here to join the RIC.”

”Very good to have you here” said the officer shaking his hand with vigour. Louis had never been greeted so cordially by an officer. ”First of all you must be exhausted from your journey”

”Yes sir I am”

”Where did you come from?”

”London, sir.”

”Ah London – I am a Surrey man myself. That is not a London accent I am hearing.”

”No sir, Worcestershire.”

”First off get you some breakfast” he said leading him in ”then a few hours shuteye. Then show you the ropes before handing you over to the RIC”

Louis was already feeling the RIC would turn out to be a much better experience than the army. He remembered his first day in the army. Could he ever forget it? Bawled at, verbally abused, made to march and march about, to scrub the floor – constant chivvy and exhaustion. Everything done double quick. The fact that he could write was held against him. Public humiliation seemed to be the army way.

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TRAINING

Next day Louis was given khaki trousers to wear. He was issued with an RIC shirt and a bottle green RIC cap. He was then driven by lorry to an RIC depot.

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HOW TO ARREST SOMEONE

”Right men – how do you arrest someone?”

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QUESTIONING A SUSPECT

”Now men – how to question a suspect. What do we want? We want information out of him and as fast as possible. We want to know where the guns are hidden for example. Why do we want it instantly? Because the longer it takes to extract this information the longer the enemy has to move the guns.. I also said information – not disinformation. If you torture a man he may well tell you nonsense – anything to stop the pain. I am not saying that torture never works. Sometimes it does. He might tell you something verifiable. If he says so and so is hiding at such and such and address and we raid the address and find the wanted man then torture has worked. By they way torture is illegal.

If you get suspects first thing you do is you separate them. Imagine if you fell into the hands of the enemy. Would you rather be with a mate or on your own? You would rather be with a mate. So split them up.

Best if we have two interrogators. There is shit and sugar. Shit goes in very nasty – shrieking and threatening. Blindfold the suspect  – maybe strip him naked. Have him stand up. Wave your revolver in his face. Threats to kill his mates. Tell him he is going to hang. Tell the suspect that he has already lost. Once he believes he is worthless he will not resist. Offer him a lifeline. If he informs we will free him.

Then sugar comes in. Take the blindfold off. Let him put his clothes on. Sugar says sorry for shit. Says shit is a bastard. Offers a cigarette. Says I am Irish too – I agree with your cause. Help me to help you. Help me and I will let you escape.

The contrast between the two makes each seem better or worse than he really is. If the suspect does not respond to shit he should respond to sugar.

If it is still not working shit can get nastier. If that does not work then sugar comes in. He then loses it and slaps the suspect. The suspect is worried that his one friend in the world is turning against him.

Lie to the bastards. Tell him – the other fellow has spilled the beans. You might as well tell us everything. Save yourself. That is the best way to help yourself – tell the truth.

All sorts of things you can do. Get them drunk. Very difficult to lie when drunk.

 

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INTO A UNIT.

 

 

Black and Tans. Chapter One. Recruitment

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BLACK AND TANS CHARACTERS.

  1. Tall Northern Irish sergeant. Ian  North

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2. Short Londoner soldier – blond sergeant aged 40. George Short

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3. Davies. Benedict’s. Benjamin  David

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4. Watkins. John Watkins.

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5. Tavi Moise. Octavian More

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6. swimming pool guy from school. Alexander   Brokenshire.

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7. Major Neil.  Edward MacNeil

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8. Col Olley. Oliver Sergeant.

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9. Mike Cunningham.   Mark Cunningham.

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10. Relu Marichenano.  Richard  March.

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11. Richard chemistry pilot. Older officer. Richard Dixon.

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12.  Louis Limtay. Born 1890. protagonist.

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RECRUITMENT.

Like so many unemployed men Louis Limtay had ended up in London. He wore a thick but loose grey suit that had seen better days and a beige cap. It was a chilly and cloudy January morning as Louis walked along a crowded street in the centre of London. The mean spirited landlady had thrown him out of the boarding house till dinnertime. He plodded the mean streets and admired once handsome public buildings now covered in soot and needing repair. The war had been over for more than a year and the city was still jaded.

Louis stopped at a traffic lights. He watched a motorcar road by – one young woman was driving and another in the passenger seat. He could not believe it – a woman driving! In the war a few generals had had women as drivers but women driving in peacetime? It was not quite right. And they both had bobbed hair – made up like tarts. They were smoking and cackling. Rich young women in silk gowns behaving like that! It was wrong but… alluring. Then came more horseless carriages – so many of them these days. Noisy and emitting such horrid smoke.

Then the horse drawn carriages clattered by. As Louis saw the carriages move by he saw a beggar out of the corner of his eye. He turned around. There was a man his own age – maybe 30 and sitting on the ground in an army uniform. The uniform was worn but immacuately laundered. The poor fellow had only one leg. He had a cup with a few coppers in it and held a sign ”Lost a leg at the Somme. Seeking a job. Till then a penny will do.” Louis studied him compassionately – there was a quiet dignity to the man despite looking drawn. His pride was as bright as the sheen on the medal pinned to his chest.

Louis’ funds were running low but he would not deny a penny to an old comrade. He fished out his wallet and got out a penny.

”There you go” he said stooping down and dropping a penny into the disabled soldier’s cup.

”Thank you kindly sir” he said in a West country burr.

”You are most welcome. I am an old soldier too.” said Lewy in a mild Brummy accent.

”I could tell there was something decent about you moment I saw you” the man answered in charming Devonian tones. ”So many bloody shirkers around and they’s the one’s that gots the jobs now.”

”Good luck to you fella” said Louis shaking the man’s hand vigorously.

”Best of luck old chum” said the man. It was as though they had known each other all their lives.

Louis stood up and turned around. Was that rash handing him a penny? If he did not get work within a week he would be out of funds. He would be asking to spend time in a homeless shelter. He would not be able to afford the train fare back to Bromsgrove. Chances of landing a job there were even less than in London. He would have to walk all the way home and that would take him a week. The leather on his shoes was wearing thin already. How the hell was he going to provide for his wife and children? Should he move to the colonies? The lights had changed and he walked across the road. On the far side of the building he saw a large white poster affixed to the pale grey wall of a government building.

”Ex-soldiers wanted for a dangerous task. Immediate work.  10 shillings a day. Apply within.”

Louis was stumped. Jobs! Available immediately?  10 shillings a day! That three times what a skilled man earned! Why wasn’t there a huge queue? He hurried to the door of the 5 storey high government building.

A commissionaire stood at the door in a red suit and long red overcoat complete with a cap with the word ‘commissionaire’ embroidered in gold braid. He was 6’4” and had reddish skin and a splendid white moustache. He looked like a retired sergeant major.

”Morning sir” said Louis tipping his hat perfunctorily. He was saw excited the words tumbled out. ”Just saw the advertisement on the bill on the wall you see”, in his haste his West Midlands accent became a little more pronounced.

”Ah yes sir. Well pleased to have you. They just started recruiting today. Not an hour ago. You are in luck. Only a dozen men been in. Go straight upstairs and ask for Captain Dixon.” He spoke in a Cockney accent.  The commissionaire took him by the forearm and looked deep into his eye, ”You are an ex soldier, mind?”

”Certainly am. I volunteered a week after the war began. Promoted sergeant. Royal Worcestershires!”

”Excellent. The will check with the War Office you see.” The commissionaire nodded and made a hand gesture to usher him in.

Louis hurried into the building. His hobnailed books clacked on the polished black and white chequered marbled floor. How he wished he had dressed better. Louis wished he had blacked his boots more recently than three days ago. But there was no time for that. They wanted men immediately! He was not going to go home and change. He only had one better suit of clothes. Just a few feet inside the foyer there was a wide and impressive carpeted staircase. He paused and gathered his breath. Louise then slowly ascended the staircase. Down the corridor on the ground floor he saw a few men walking this way and that – civil servants though one was in an army officer’s uniform. He heard the the clanging of a typewriter and the bell as it reached the end of the line.

Louis slowed himself down as he climbed the stairs. He wiped the perspiration from his brow  with his white cotton handkerchief. Could this be it? At long last a job? Better not get his hopes up too much. His hopes had been dashed too many times in these past few months.

Louise stopped on the landing and breathed deeply. He had better not mess this up. He needed this job. Up the second flight of stairs. There he was on the first floor. A commissionaire was there – a slim young man  with dark blond hair and pinched cheeks in the same uniform. He noticed that this unfortunate man had no left arm.

”Good morning.” said Louis with as much poise as he could muster.

”Good morning” said the man in a strong Yorkshire accent.

”I am looking for a Captain Dixon about a position for an ex soldier.”

”Ah yes – force for Ireland. Go down corridor. Is third on your right. ‘is name is on door” said the Yorkshireman with a kindly smile.

”Thank you” said Louis nodding.

The commissionaire said ”Don’t mention it sir – once ex-soldier to another.”

Louis walked down the corridor with a plain white stone floor. It was ill lit. There third on the left was the dark brown wooden door. The name plate read ‘Captain Dixon.’

He had known a Captain Dixon. Could this be the same one?

Louis decided not to think about it too much lest he get cold feet. He knocked loudly on the door – twice.

”Come in” said a pukka voice. Louise diffidently turned the handle and stepped in.

”Good morning Captain Dixon” he said. His eyes fixed on a bowed bald pate fringed with white hair. A man in army officer’s uniform was still sitting at his leather topped writing desk. The office was respectably large and the furniture was all polished wood. A few filing cabinet stood behind the desk.

The officer at the desk finished signing a document and looked up.

”Limtay!” he said – a smile spreading across his ageing features. Captain Dixon stood up. He extended a hand

Louis could hardly believe he was seeing the old captain. They shook hands – vigorously. Limtay could tell that Dixon felt like hugging him but his British reserve forfended it.

”How the devil are you old chap?” said Dixon.

”Oh  – very well only I am out of work see Captain Dixon.”

”Well yes it has been rough since the end of the war. A lot of good men out of work through no fault of their own. Now do sit down.”

”Oh thank you very much captain” he said and sat on a chair. ”Forgive the clothes.”

”No problem at all. I am just delighted to have such a fine man volunteering for the job.” said Dixon beaming. Louise noticed that Dixon was immaculately turned out as always. His Sam Brown and boots were highly polished. His clothes were spotless and firmly creased along the seems.

”Thank you very much Captain” said Limtay relaxing a little.

”Now then Limtay – I realise it has been very difficult to get jobs since the war. I volunteered from the bank in 1915  – joined one of the pals battalions. Ended up seconded to the staff as you know. Where I met you. I wanted to go back to Lloyd’s – would not have me. I am rather good at administration. So here I am in this government office. You were a schoolmaster weren’t you?”

”Yes, sir that is right. Pupil-teacher then schoolmaster. Teaching at a primary school. I was due to study part-time at Birmingham University then the war came.  I volunteered first week of the war. ”

”Yes, yes I see. You have a wife and children as I recall?”

”Yes, sir. I do – three children now. All girls.”

”Well they need looking after. How long you been demobilised.”

”Only six months sir.”

”Why didn’t you go back to your old school?”

”They are supposed to guarantee to keep my job open. That is the rule. But they said they cannot afford me. Central government gives the local county council so much less money since the war what with all the war debt and that. So they increased the class size from 40 up to 45. Cuts the wages bill. I tried to get work. Only managed to get cover work – a week here a week there. I applied for everything even being a hotel receptionist.”

”I know how it is. You are a fine man. I remember you speak French and German. Very useful for interpreting for the Frogs or interrogating the Boche. Anyway – we have a new task for you. In Ireland things are playing up. You heard of Sinn Fein?”

”Yes, I have sir – this revolutionary nationalist movement. They want a republic and to break up the empire.”

”That’s right. Anyway – these fiends well they have a few supporters among the population. Most of the people too terrified to do anything about it. They are fanatics going around shooting people on their own doorstep, burning buildings, blowing bridges and what not. Want to steal all property and kill all the Protestants. Most Irish people are not like that  – Home Rulers. Even the Home Rulers are terrified of this lot of assassins who are shooting policemen left, right and centre. That is where you come in. So many Irish policemen have been shot. More resigned in fear. Not easy to get new recruits. they all fear they will be murdered in their beds. We need tough ex soldiers. Doughty men like you to go to Ireland and fill the ranks in the Royal Irish Constabulary. I will be honest with you. This will be no easy task. You shall be in peril of your life. This is not ordinary policing. You will not be directing traffic or searching for missing children. Your main mission will to be to go to the most dangerous counties in Ireland and stop the Irish Republican Army. That is what that Sinn Fein murder gang are calling themselves. IRA. They are ruthless rebels. So you arrest them when you can and shoot them when you cannot.”

”But sir the police do not carry guns.”

”They do in Ireland for their own protection. Now I have explained the task. Do you think you can do that?”

”Yes, I certainly can.”

”I am being frank about it – this is dangerous.”

”Cannot be dangerous compared to charging a German machinegun.”

”That’s the spirit. Well I can offer you the job on the spot. Are you willing to take the train and boat to Ireland tonight?”

”Tonight? Yes, I am.”

”You are?”

Louise paused for a moment?

”Yes, I am.”

”Superb. Right” he opened a drawer and got the form out. ”Take a minute to read that then sign.”

Louis duly read the contract. All that he would expect of an army contract only it was for the police.

”Yes sir I accept” said Louis finishing.

”Very good. Now sign” he proffered a fountain pen

Louis duly signed – hardly believing he was doing it.

Dixon then rose. Louise instinctively followed suit

”Then I welcome you to the RIC” he said smiling broadly  and treated him to a warm handshake.

”Well great to be on board.”

”I shall prepare your travel warrant and tell you where to go in Dublin to introduce yourself. Start three months basic training tomorrow. ” Dixon bent over his desk. He wrote out the particulars on a piece of printed paper – a travel warrant giving the bearer free travel as he was on government service. Dixon then handed it over.

Louis took the travel warrant and folded it carefully inside his jacket pocket.

”Take good care of that. Now I suggest you go home and pack. Take any train from Euston to Liverpool you like but has to be today. Document is made out for today. Take the boat to Dublin tonight and report yourself to Beggar’s Bush Barracks. Tell them why you have come. I shall write down the address and the name of your contact.”

Dixon’s pen was active once more.

A minute later Dixon was bidding him farewell. ”Best of luck Limtay. His Majesty could not have a finer man serving him!” Dixon handed him 10 shillings, ”You get your first day’s pay here and now.”

”I thank you kindly sir” said Limtay – bowled over by the flattery.

His head was spinning. This was the best news he had had since he had proposed to his wife some 8 years ago.

Louis hurried to the nearest post office to send a telegram to Emma. ”Got a job – police in Ireland! Will send salary when I receive it.”

He then hastened home to the boarding house to pack.

He caught the 2 o clock train to Liverpool. As the train puffed out of Euston Station he could scarcely believe his luck. As it was an early afternoon train it was almost empty. Louis put his suitcase on the rack in the second class carriage. He walked along the juddering train to the dining car. His warrant entitled him to a meal. He also intended to celebrate with a drink and a packet of woodbines. Days as good as this did not come often.

Louis got to the dining car. As he walked in he saw a short, obese man of about 50 seated on his own. This man had fairly long black hair and huge jowls. He nodded in acknowledgment at Louis. This gentleman had a couple of pint glasses in front of him and was three sheets in the wind. The man had large, thick round spectacles on. His skin was flushed and he had the sort of five o clock shadow that indicated he had to shave every 12 hours.

”Good afternoon” said Louis a little diffidently.

Louis took a suit on the table across the aisle from the hefty middle aged man. A slim young waiter with a scar across his forehead approached Louis and proferred a menu.

”Before I order may I have a pint of Newcastle Brown Ale please?”

”Oh yes certainly sir” said the young waiter in a Cockney accent.

Louise began perusing the waiter only to hear the chubby man across the aisle say ”man after my own heart.”

Louis looked across ”Oh well thank you. Why?” he asked diffidently.

”Drinking at luncheon. Only way to cope. So glad the war is over with all those damn fool drinking restrictions. War is a wonderful excuse for the power mad to boss us about. Reggie Mather by the way” the man said standing up unsteadily and extending his hand.

Louis stood and took the man’s hand ”Louis Limtay he said shaking the man’s podgy paw.

”I am honoured to make your acquaintance Mr Limtay” he said ”I have nothing against soldiers or those who fought in the war as I guess you did.  I was too old. I have to say thank God. All these old men say they wish they had fought in the war. Liars most of them. Yes, I admire your courage but I have the courage to say I was glas to be out of it. Yes, I am scared of death. WHy are most men too scared to admit that?”

”Good point” said Louis ”Yes, I was in the war and yes I was petrified at times.”

”See you are man who is really brave – brave enough to tell the truth even when it does not look good. We need more of that”

The slender waiter returned with the drink

”Waiter put that on my bill” said Mr Mather

”certainly sir” said the waiter.

”What do you do for a living Mr Mather” said Louis.

”I am a barrister”

”I might have guessed” Louis laughed ” so opinionated and self assured”

”That I am. Going up to Liverpool to do a case. Where are you headed?”

”Liverpool and ultimately Ireland. I am joining the police.”

”Oh good for you. Well they need law and order over there. Bloody Sinn Feiners go and create havoc. We should have granted Home Rule

30 years ago and then we would not be in this bloody mess we are in now. But we cannot have Sinn Feiners taking over. They say they won that election. The intimiated the Home Rule Party into standing down, wrecked their rallies, voted the dead, stuffed the ballot boxes. Not to say Sinn Fein have no support. They do. Maybe one in three Irishmen supports them. Anyway even if most Irishmen want a republic they should not have it. That is never the way these things work. Woodrow Wilson went and said national self determination. His own Congress would not agree to it. No one has ever accepted that. Those Shinners are such hypocrites. They say Ireland can leave the United Kingdom but Ulster cannot leave Ireland. ”

”I do know a bit about Irish affairs. Not as much as you. I used to read up on the Irish Question. Yes, I think they should have Home Rule.  I am a Liberal you see. Parliament passed it years ago. They did not get on with it because of the war. Now the situation is deteriorating every day. Well that is where I come in.” said Louis supping his pint.

Behind them sat a hawk eyed slim middle aged man. His mid brown hair was very carefully brushed and his tanned face was prematurely lined with wrinkles. There was something uptight about him.  The man wore a blue pinstripe suit with a turn up collar on a starched white shirt. He looked sour and said ”Gentlemen, I hope you don;t mind my butting in. I have heard what you have been saying. Forgive my intrusion but I totally disagree. I served on the Western Front” he said in a public school accent.  ”I had a few Irishmen in the battalion under my command. Decent chaps most of them. Then came that bloody Easter Rising. I was aghast. The French were up against it at Verdun – about to crack. We were preparing for the Somme. Then the Paddies go and stick a knife in out back. Could not believe the treachery of it. The rebels are bloody cowards. We had them thrashed in six days. 1 000 of the brutes surrendered. Only 16 got executed. I would have hanged the rotten lot. That is what the Kaiser would have done. Then all these Sinn Feiners are always whining – the English are so cruel to us. We are not! Only executed 16 of the blighters. We were within our rights to hang every man jack of them. We were far, far too lenient to those pro German buggers. If we had done that we would have heard no more trouble. Then Lloyd George let all the Sinn Feiners out of prison a few months later. No end of trouble we had from the rats. You might have thought they would have been grateful. Not a bit of it. No logic from the Irish. These rebels ought to have been dangling from a rope and instead they get let go. It just goes to show that mercy gets you nowhere with the Irish. You have got to be FIRM. Force is the only language they understand, mark you”, he ranted

Louis and Mr Mather was in stunned silence for a moment

”Well that was a fascinating insight” said Mather philosophically ”One way of looking at it.”

”Thank you sir. I was a captain in the army so this is all very close to my heart. In stock broking now. Forgive my fervour. When men under my command were getting killed and the Irish were bringing German guns into Ireland to kill more of my comrades well – I felt very strongly about it. Do the Irish really want to be ruled by the Kaiser? Would they rebel against him? If they did the Jerries would round up every man in the village and shoot him dead. Now I do not advocate that but that is what Sinn Fein’s allies did.” the man was a little calmer.

”I think we need to be a little more controlled and disciplined” said Louis ”From a rebel perspective I can see that the Great War was the ideal time for a rebellion. The rebels are not that popular. They knew they would only stand a chance if they had the help of another great power against the United Kingdom. Why would they not take a golden opportunity? ANyway the lost even with German assistance. Now Germany is defeated the rebels have little chance.”

”I certainly hope so” said the ex army officer.

The waiter came back. Louis ordered. ”I will have roast beef with Yorkshire pudding please”

”Very good sir” said the waiter.

Mr Mather said to the ex army officer ”Excuse me may I have your name sir”

”Yes certainly” he said standing ”Captain Rodney Carruthers” . Mather struggled to his feet. Carruthers gave him a very stiff handshake.

The conversation continuted bibulously. Mather drank more and bought a round for the others.

The waiter came back with the meal. Louis tucked in. Mather said ”Tell me waiter – what do you make of the Irish Question?”

”The Irish Question? What is that sir?”

”Well should the Irish have self government of any form? And if so is it for the whole of Ireland or to exclude Ulster?”

”I don’t really know sir. My gut instinct is that if the Irish want independence why not give it to them? Then nobody will die on either side.” He bowed gauchely and hastened off.

It was the evening when the train rattled into Liverpool Lime Street. Louis had sobered up somewhat. He bade a hearty farewell to the alcoholic barrister with outspoken views. He said goodbye to Carruthers a little less warmly.

Outside the station Louis saw a man in a railway uniform. Louis asked the short, tubby middle aged fellow directions ”Excuse me sir, which tram is it for the docks? I have to take the ship to Ireland?”

The short man had a thick brown beard and a bald pate above his thick glasses. ”You going to Ireland? You are English and not Irish right?”

”Yes, I am English” he said a little taken aback.

”Good. And a true hearted Protestant?”

”Well I am – Church of England, sort of. We went to the Methodist Church a bit though. Did not have good enough clothes for the Church of England”

”What you going to Ireland for then?”

”I am going to join the police?”

”Ah great – teach those thick Micks how to behave. I do not like Papists meself. Them Irish come here and take out jobs. Might be all right if they wanted to stay with England but not then they are always bad mouthing us and killing our soldiers – helping the Jerries. Take tram seven. And keep the Protestant faith like!”

”I will do” he said with a lack of conviction.

The plump little man shook his hand with vigour ”me name is Zachary Newsom and don’t forget it. I am in the N A P”

Louis could not understand this fixation with religious denomination. Were they not all Christians? Where he came from they were all Protestants. The Irish in his county were about 1 in 100 and no one disliked them.

Louis then got himself onto a tram for the docks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Black and Tans – novel. Plan.

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BLACK AND TANS CHARACTERS.

  1. Tall Northern Irish sergeant. Ian  North

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2. Short Londoner soldier – blond sergeant aged 40. George Short

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3. Davies. Benedict’s. Benjamin  David

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4. Watkins. John Watkins.

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5. Tavi Moise. Octavian More

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6. swimming pool guy from school. Alexander   Brokenshire.

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7. Major Neil.  Edward MacNeil

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8. Col Olley. Oliver Sergeant.

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9. Mike Cunningham.   Mark Cunningham.

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10. Relu Marichenano.  Richard  March.

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11. Richard chemistry pilot. Older officer. Richard Dixon.

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12.  Louis Limtay. Born 1890. protagonist.

 

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LOCAL R  I C

  1. N Lupton. Mayo. Nick Lumley.

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2.  Anthony FitzPatrick. Midlands. Tony FitGerald.

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3. Rick Forshaw. Wee North. Prod. Rick Forshaw.

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4. Shaheen’s husband. Dubliner.  Sean Groom.

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I R A men

  1. G Nagle.  Gerry Crook

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2. P Lynne.   Peter Lynne

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3. Causkey Harrington.  Pascal  Hardy

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4. Wesley Hendricks. William Hendricks.

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5. Anthony Curtin. Anthony Curtin

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6. Honora O’Connor. Honora O Connor.

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7. Jonathon Wynn. Jonathon Wynn.

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8. Mark Griffiths. Marxist.   Mark Griffiths

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9. Abel Kennington.  Adam MacCoinnaith

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10. George Williams. Seoirse Williams. 

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11. Sean Gallagher. Sean Gallagher.

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Victims of IRA.

wrongly suspected informer in the ranks

Prod strong farmer

female informer

petty thief beaten and accidentally killed

One of the Tans.

 

 

 

Do not deprive British criminals of citizenship.

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Some men of Pakistani origin in the United Kingdom committed some grave sex crimes against children. These men are British citizens and they have served prison sentences for their offences. To be sure some of these crimes were heinous.

It is quite wrong to take away their citizenship. These people have already been heavily punished. They have suffered their prison sentences. Moreover, they have been branded with the P word. This is a terrible stigma to carry around. I am  not saying they do not deserve it. They will face an uphill struggle to ever secure employment again.

Processes have been entered into to deprive these men of their citizenship. They will then be deported to Pakistan. This is unjust. It would be punishing them twice over. It is related to the double jeopardy principle.

It is true that were these men booted out of the United Kingdom then the country would be safer. However, that is not the point. Justice must take priority. To take away their citizenship would be to create second class citizens. British born persons would have a higher grade of citizenship than naturalised persons.

Had these men committed such crimes before being granted citizenship then it would have been right not to give them citizenship. But now that they have it they should never have it taken away.

This is why one must be very circumspect about granting citizenship. That is because it should never be taken away. That includes for murder. I would require 10 years residence without claiming benefits and with no criminal record and paying GBP 10 000 to secure it. That is not as stringent as the requirements in Switzerland.