The Wind That Shakes the Barley Page #7

Exactly.

Good riddance to them.

One-way ticket now, lads. Have a safe

journey and God bless all of you.

- Bugger off, Paddy!

- And I'll see you in hell.

Eyes to your front, soldier!

Look at them. Not a gun between them.

Handed them all over

to the freestaters.

Jesus Christ. They're on their way.

Is that not good enough for you?

Here, look at the gombeen-men.

Licking their lips already, Damien.

Decent men.

- Oh, are they?

- Yeah, they are.

- It's Teddy in the freestate uniform.

- What?

Teddy's wearing

the bloody freestate uniform.

Kick out the Black and Tans,

bring in the Green and Tans.

Bastards, the lot of you.

You won't even give us a chance.

This treaty's been approved by the Dail.

Hasn't been approved in the field.

Hasn't been approved in here, boy.

- Any of you for a drink?

- Yeah, go on.

- How are you, boy?

- Lads.

We're back at work again.

I have to go to Dublin.

The Republican Army leaders

have summoned an emergency meeting.

Seven out of ten volunteers

out against the treaty.

These freestate ladeens up here

are recruiting left, right and centre.

Ex-British army, all sorts.

Is it true they're bringing in

weapons from England?

There's all sorts of rumours.

We're setting up a new HQ in Dublin.

I need the pair of you and I need

Rory to keep the training going.

- I'll be in touch when I can.

- Alright.

What if they try to take our guns?

Over my dead body

will we give up a single bullet.

You have to keep down.

- Keep your backsides down.

- Tuck it into your elbows.

- Keep your arse down.

- Get the muzzle up out of there.

You'll smash that rifle.

The butt of your rifle

is facing away from you.

Come on, boy, keep the line. Come on.

Keep the line, lads.

Don't be rushing ahead.

My grandmother could do better.

You're falling behind again,

you dozy bollox. Move forward.

Look down the line. There isn't one.

Your muzzle's

going straight into the dirt.

Right, next line.

Don't be last in line.

On the double means run. Come on!

Form the line.

Down on your bellies.

Rifles as we told you.

You know where you're going.

You don't have to look.

Your dozy face makes a great target.

Now put your head down!

Are you the doctor?

Are you the doctor? I need a doctor.

- I'm a doctor.

- I've a sick child. Can you see him?

- In to your left.

- Thank you.

Well, now. Hello.

- What's your name?

- Diarmuid.

Can I have a little look at

your eyes? There's a good man.

Good boy. Can you stick out

your tongue for me? Now say, "Aaah".

- Aaah.

- Good fella.

Right. Will you sit up?

I want to have a look at your tummy.

Take that off.

Good man. Now, lie back down for me.

Will he be alright, Doctor?

He will. He'll be fine. Good boy.

Good man.

- Would you like a glass of water?

- I won't. I'm fine.

- Maybe a drop for himself.

- Right.

Up you get now.

- Are they your sisters outside?

- Yeah.

- What are their names?

- Aoife, Sheila and Emer.

Aoife, Sheila and Emer.

How is he?

He's half-starved, Dan.

Jesus!

There's two piles of 30 there,

alright? Double-check 'em.

Alright.

- Who's doing the stall on Saturday?

- Huh?

- The stall.

- I'm not doing any stall.

- What?

- Feck off. Ask Lily to do the stall.

I can't do the stall.

You'll have to do it.

Er, I can't.

One thing I don't understand,

why do you always put Labour

above the Republic?

Telegram from Dublin.

Finbar was in the Four Courts

with the Republican leaders.

Freestaters smashed the place

with 18-pounders from the British.

- For f***'s sake.

- Bastards!

- Sinead, was there anyone killed?

- I've no details, Lily.

But Finbar wants us to hit back

down here immediately.

I'm not hitting back.

- Where you off to there, Ned?

- I'm sorry, lads.

- I've had enough.

- That's an order from Finbar.

Tell that to the bastards killing

Republicans in the Four Courts!

Where are you going, boy?

The longer I stay here, the more

men's lives are in danger. Come on.

Rory, what's this going to achieve?

Ned?

- We've received our orders, alright?

- Jesus Christ.

Sorry, lads. I'm not hitting back.

There's men in the Four

Courts. Our comrades are up there.

Damien. I'm with you all the way,

but... I'm with you all the way,

but these are our own lads.

No, our comrades are in the Four

Courts. They're our comrades.

- This won't stop in the Four Courts.

- It's over for me.

Just hang on, will you?

Jesus Christ.

Right, you bastards.

Put it down! Put it down!

Rory! Rory, stand your men down.

Rory, stand your men down.

- Shut your hole!

- Frighten the ladies.

- Shut your hole!

- Stand down.

Grab their guns. How many?

F***ing turncoats!

Put it down. Put it down!

Jesus Christ, what are you doing?

Shut up!

I've a good mind to do you all.

Come on, hurry up, move it!

You've killed two fellow Irishmen!

Tell that to the boys

in the Four Courts! Come on, move it.

- What's it like to kill an Irishman?

- Shut your hole!

Come on, move it. Come on.

Bloody Rory, he's insane.

Some bastards are beyond reason.

Self-righteous Rory,

with his big thick head on him.

He's quite content being

the underdog, you do know that?

- I do indeed.

- Jesus.

- The military courts will show them.

- It's not enough.

What are you saying?

If they take one out, we take

one back. To hell with the courts.

Jesus, Teddy,

they're still our boys out there.

They're confused.

They'll run out of steam.

Some will.

Some will fight to the end.

I agree. We've got to stamp it out.

If we don't stop them,

the Brits will be back.

After all we've achieved,

after everything we've been through,

we can't go back to that.

I never thought I'd see the day.

Military courts established

in Ireland by Irishmen.

Deportation or the death penalty

for those caught with arms.

In the name of God, what is going on?

I found this on the street

during the week.

"Under the Republic, the lands of

the aristocracy who live in London

will be seized and divided up against

landless workers and small farmers."

"All industry and agriculture

will be controlled by the state

for the workers' and farmers'

benefit."

Not content with stealing

your savings,

they'll be nationalising

the 12 apostles next.

Dear brethren, we have an opportunity

for the first time in generations

in this country

for peace and prosperity.

We have that opportunity without

English soldiers marching in our streets

and outside our churches

on a Sunday morning.

We have that opportunity

because we have signed a treaty.

A treaty of peace.

Quiet!

Let me remind those of you

who have forgotten

of the pastoral letter signed by

Cardinal Logue and other bishops.

Anti-Treatyite irregulars have,

and I quote,

"Wrecked Ireland from end to end."

"And all those who participate

in such crimes

are guilty of the gravest sins

and may not be absolved in confession

nor admitted to Holy Communion."

In other words, excommunication!

This opinion of the treaty is not just

the opinion of the Catholic Church,

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