Skip to main content

I gCuimhne

Parnell Street. Picture courtesy of Justice for the Forgotten 

On May 17, it will be 41 years  since I visited Dublin as a boy of three going on four. We were there as a young family on a day out, having driven up in my father's little sky blue beetle. I remember my father singing The Battle Of New Orleans as we barrelled into the capital but I don't remember hearing the explosions in the city centre as we were leaving but my mother and father both did. 
What I do remember is fear, my parents' fear for their children as they left the bombed city behind. They talked in the low serious tones that grown-ups use when they don't want children to interrupt but I knew something was up even if my two year old sister didn't.
We passed through a final Garda checkpoint on the western outskirts of Dublin and the news on the radio was reporting another bomb in Monaghan town. I knelt on the back seat beside my sleeping little sister, watching the dusky road run away from us and the lights of Dublin grew fainter. Eventually, I drifted off to the peculiar rhythm of the air-cooled engine but not before wondering why anyone would have done what they did. What little of that day that was captured by my childish memory has never been forgotten.
The events of 17 May 1974 are of course well-remembered, at least in Ireland. Well, perhaps 'well-remembered' is rather over-egging the pudding. Let's say it is a matter of record and eyewitness account that it happened and that it was a tragedy which ended 34 lives in a searing trice. But beyond that? A murky whirl of rumour, conspiracy, accusation, demurral and denial. And at the end of it, are we any closer to getting an acknowledgement of the truth of what happened that day?
Sure, we could yak till the cows come home about Kitson's low intensity counter-insurgency tactics or the false flag ops of a strategy of tension but it won't make a damn bit of difference to the O'Briens; Mammy Anna, Daddy John, little Jacqueline and wee Anne-Marie. Another young family; only this one was snuffed out along with six other innocents when Parnell Street was turned into an instant shambles.

Nothing less than the truth will do for:

Patrick Askin (44) Co. Monaghan
Josie Bradley (21) Co. Offaly
Marie Butler (21) Co. Waterford
Anne Byrne (35) Dublin
Thomas Campbell (52) Co. Monaghan
Simone Chetrit (30) France
Thomas Croarkin (36) Co. Monaghan
John Dargle (80) Dublin
Concepta Dempsey (65) Co. Louth
Colette Doherty (20) Dublin
Baby Doherty (full term unborn) Dublin*
Patrick Fay (47), Dublin & Co. Louth
Elizabeth Fitzgerald (59) Dublin
Breda Bernadette Grace (34) Dublin and Co. Kerry
Archie Harper (73) Co. Monaghan
Antonio Magliocco, (37) Dublin & Italy
May McKenna (55) Co. Tyrone
Anne Marren (20) Co. Sligo
Anna Massey (21) Dublin
Dorothy Morris (57) Dublin
John (24), Anna (22), Jacqueline (17 months) & Anne-Marie (5 months) O'Brien, Dublin
Christina O'Loughlin (51), Dublin
Edward John O'Neill (39), Dublin
Marie Phelan (20), Co. Waterford
Siobhán Roice (19), Wexford Town
Maureen Shields (46), Dublin
Jack Travers (28), Monaghan Town
Breda Turner (21), Co. Tipperary
John Walsh (27), Dublin
Peggy White (44), Monaghan Town 
George Williamson (72), Co. Monaghan


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Down a Rabbit-Hole

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Seán Flynn. I'm 56 years old and I have been a front-line paramedic with the London Ambulance Service in the East End for the past seven years. It's a job I love and, by and large, it's the happiest I've been in a long and varied working life. I am also an accredited GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) coach with enhanced DBS clearance; both as a coach and as a registered clinician. I recently travelled to the West Bank in order to coach three teams in the territory under the aegis of GAA Palestine, introducing the children to Gaelic football. I was lucky enough to travel first to South Bethlehem, then to the Al Am'ari Refugee Camp in Ramallah and then on to Qabatya in Jenin. It's important to note at this point however that the individual with whom I was initially due to travel, pulled out on the morning of the trip as the result of a cancelled connecting flight; leaving me to fly out on my own.  As a consequ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Never thought my life would be like this

    When I wake up on a work day (it doesn't matter whether it's early or late), I get on station and figure out which truck I'm on; there's a screen in the mess room that shows the fleet number – my truck – beside mine and my crewmate's names and our call-sign for the shift. I go to the key safe, use the appropriate code and take out the keys matching the fleet number (assuming that the keys don't belong to a truck still out on the road). Then I go to the drugs room, using my ID card to gain entrance. Inside, I use a specially allocated smart key to gain access to the drugs lockers to take out my meds for the shift. I then have to separately access another safe to get my morphine ampoules which I have to sign out and have witnessed. I also have to ensure that the numbers between the book and safe tally before closing the safe. So once I have my drugs, I go back to my truck and start to check it over. Engine, and all lights (incl. hazards and blues) on for a wal...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Deptford Particular

Earlier this month and for the last time, I trained at the Lord Clyde Boxing Gym in Deptford. When it closed, I lost one of my favourite places in all of London. The gym at the ‘Clyde shut its doors after a protracted legal battle that had initially seen the plucky little boozer successfully challenge the developers’ plans. Landlord Rory McInally brought together a wide coalition to oppose the move. But the developers have since hit back and have succeeded in their objections to the gym’s continued use. This was a place where local kids boxed for free, trained and supervised by former professional boxers fer chrissakes. Plans had even been afoot to revive the Cuban-style outdoor gym in the backyard for the Summer months. While we’re not always the biggest fans of the police on these pages we do acknowledge that those officers who have any interest in building community relations have always traditionally recognised the value  of local boxing gyms and the ‘Clyde had ...
4 comments
Read more