The older LSF volunteer explained to Seamus O’ Brien the strategy for repelling any attempted German or British landing in the district, or any other parts of County Kilkenny: “We’ll be waiting in the trees for them…with shotguns and rifles and grenades.
That’ll give us a fair chance, as we’ll be nearer the planes when they come in to land. When a plane reaches the level of the treetops, we’ll all fire at once at the feckers and bring them down. We’ll be camouflaged to look like bushes and branches so the pilots and his machine gunners won’t catch a sight of us…until it’s too late and we have them where want them.”
Seamus, though doubtful of this plan’s chances of halting an attack fromPreparing for the Worst
The older LSF volunteer explained to Seamus O’ Brien the strategy for repelling any attempted German or British landing in the district, or any other parts of County Kilkenny: “We’ll be waiting in the trees for them…with shotguns and rifles and grenades.
That’ll give us a fair chance, as we’ll be nearer the planes when they come in to land. When a plane reaches the level of the treetops, we’ll all fire at once at the feckers and bring them down. We’ll be camouflaged to look like bushes and branches so the pilots and his machine gunners won’t catch a sight of us…until it’s too late and we have them where want them.”
Seamus, though doubtful of this plan’s chances of halting an attack from the sky, said he hoped to God it would work.
“Nothing surer” the other man chortled. “They’ll never bate the Callan lads. Sure didn’t auld Cromwell get a woeful gruelling when he rode into town here centuries ago on his dirty big English stallion, all decked out in armour and a mighty smug grin on his face? And we’ve improved since then. And I’ll tell you this…if the pilots or the paratroopers try to escape after we shoot down their planes, or when they crash into our tar barrels, the John Lockes boys will waylay them with the hurleys and ash plants. We’ll give them a woeful hiding.”
In another part of the county, Seamus came across a hastily built pillbox that had been erected on a raised hilly surface overlooking a stretch of road. It had a six-inch slit that, according to an LSF man he spoke to, would soon have a machine gun protruding from it. “If the army can spare us a machine gun,” he added.
He told Seamus that once the weapon was installed, the man inside the pillbox could stop an oncoming enemy convoy on the road, unless it included any tanks; which, he admitted ruefully, were “bullet proof”.
Another anti-invasion precaution that the Government authorised was the removal of signposts, especially on roads, to confuse potential invaders. The army and LSF got to work taking down signposts. Even place names over post offices, Garda barracks, railway stations, and most public buildings were covered up or removed.
Apart from discommoding an invasion force, this tactic was designed to hoodwink German or British spies who were deemed likely to be in the country, sizing up Ireland’s defences and sneakily reporting back to their bosses in London or Berlin.
Unfortunately this tactic proved less confusing and aggravating to spies, who had detailed maps to guide them, than to Irish people travelling from their own native towns or villages to other parts of Ireland.
The population was exhorted by the government, the Gardai, and the army not to give directions to strangers under any circumstances, and to use whatever guile or improvised bluffing they could muster to confuse them.
This advice led to some tense and frustrating stand-offs in Callan and elsewhere when directions were sought. Devious and evasive replies greeted queries from people who weren’t known to locals, or who hadn’t at least been heard about.
Examples were: “Well, where are you from yerself?”, “Have you been in the country long?”, “If I answer that question I could be guilty of high treason”, or “yer looking good but I can’t be telling ya things like that, ya might be on a mission. It’s nothing personal, mind.”
Seamus O’ Brien encountered two former residents of Callan who had returned after more than twenty years abroad, only to get lost after leaving Kilkenny city and reaching Stoneyford in error thanks to the removal of road signs.
Their Dublin hackney driver was new to his job and said he never felt so confused in his life. Seamus only confirmed to the visitors that they were in Callan after consulting with the Gardai, to whom he introduced the hackney driver and his bewildered passengers
The absence of road signs and other travel guides was especially worrying at night, when drivers, cyclists, long distance walkers, or anyone in a pony and trap, unfamiliar with a district could easily go astray.
Confusion stalked the land. People heading for one town ended up in another, or got so hopelessly lost that they had to approach the nearest Garda station (which was minus its place name ) and report their predicament.
The Gardai on duty then had to be very careful that the person calling in wasn’t on a spying mission. Having sussed out the caller, the guard might offer tentative advice on how to reach the intended destination, though he had to advise tactfully and might still not betray any details of which town or village the caller had landed in.
It was a difficult time for road users, and you were better off to remain in your own territory and not venture to anywhere you were not familiar with.
Garda Mick Jennings told Seamus that he let one fellow who knocked at the station door in the middle of the night sweat it out for half an hour before telling him that he had truly arrived in Callan. That was after a local man identified the suspected “stranger” as a genuine relative of his.
The unfortunate visitor hadn’t seen the town of his birth for forty-five years and had travelled to five other towns in the South East before finding the right one. Guard Jennings thought the visitor was ready to kiss the ground outside the barracks when he knew he had found his beloved town...
To be continued…
(From Are We Invaded Yet? by John Fitzgerald ) the sky, said he hoped to God it would work.
“Nothing surer” the other man chortled. “They’ll never bate the Callan lads. Sure didn’t auld Cromwell get a woeful gruelling when he rode into town here centuries ago on his dirty big English stallion, all decked out in armour and a mighty smug grin on his face? And we’ve improved since then. And I’ll tell you this…if the pilots or the paratroopers try to escape after we shoot down their planes, or when they crash into our tar barrels, the John Lockes boys will waylay them with the hurleys and ash plants. We’ll give them a woeful hiding.”
In another part of the county, Seamus came across a hastily built pillbox that had been erected on a raised hilly surface overlooking a stretch of road. It had a six-inch slit that, according to an LSF man he spoke to, would soon have a machine gun protruding from it. “If the army can spare us a machine gun,” he added.
He told Seamus that once the weapon was installed, the man inside the pillbox could stop an oncoming enemy convoy on the road, unless it included any tanks; which, he admitted ruefully, were “bullet proof”.
Another anti-invasion precaution that the Government authorised was the removal of signposts, especially on roads, to confuse potential invaders. The army and LSF got to work taking down signposts. Even place names over post offices, Garda barracks, railway stations, and most public buildings were covered up or removed.
Apart from discommoding an invasion force, this tactic was designed to hoodwink German or British spies who were deemed likely to be in the country, sizing up Ireland’s defences and sneakily reporting back to their bosses in London or Berlin.
Unfortunately this tactic proved less confusing and aggravating to spies, who had detailed maps to guide them, than to Irish people travelling from their own native towns or villages to other parts of Ireland.
The population was exhorted by the government, the Gardai, and the army not to give directions to strangers under any circumstances, and to use whatever guile or improvised bluffing they could muster to confuse them.
This advice led to some tense and frustrating stand-offs in Callan and elsewhere when directions were sought. Devious and evasive replies greeted queries from people who weren’t known to locals, or who hadn’t at least been heard about.
Examples were: “Well, where are you from yerself?”, “Have you been in the country long?”, “If I answer that question I could be guilty of high treason”, or “yer looking good but I can’t be telling ya things like that, ya might be on a mission. It’s nothing personal, mind.”
Seamus O’ Brien encountered two former residents of Callan who had returned after more than twenty years abroad, only to get lost after leaving Kilkenny city and reaching Stoneyford in error thanks to the removal of road signs.
Their Dublin hackney driver was new to his job and said he never felt so confused in his life. Seamus only confirmed to the visitors that they were in Callan after consulting with the Gardai, to whom he introduced the hackney driver and his bewildered passengers
The absence of road signs and other travel guides was especially worrying at night, when drivers, cyclists, long distance walkers, or anyone in a pony and trap, unfamiliar with a district could easily go astray.
Confusion stalked the land. People heading for one town ended up in another, or got so hopelessly lost that they had to approach the nearest Garda station (which was minus its place name ) and report their predicament.
The Gardai on duty then had to be very careful that the person calling in wasn’t on a spying mission. Having sussed out the caller, the guard might offer tentative advice on how to reach the intended destination, though he had to advise tactfully and might still not betray any details of which town or village the caller had landed in.
It was a difficult time for road users, and you were better off to remain in your own territory and not venture to anywhere you were not familiar with.
Garda Mick Jennings told Seamus that he let one fellow who knocked at the station door in the middle of the night sweat it out for half an hour before telling him that he had truly arrived in Callan. That was after a local man identified the suspected “stranger” as a genuine relative of his.
The unfortunate visitor hadn’t seen the town of his birth for forty-five years and had travelled to five other towns in the South East before finding the right one. Guard Jennings thought the visitor was ready to kiss the ground outside the barracks when he knew he had found his beloved town...
To be continued…
(From Are We Invaded Yet? by John Fitzgerald )
