Apart from the scare over phantom parachutists, the first large-scale military exercise involving Seamus O’ Brien’s LSF (Local Security Force ) Group in the Callan district followed shortly after the uniforms arrived at the local courthouse. On a spring Sunday morning, the lads were lined up for a specially convened parade on Callan’s Fair Green.
Each held a brush or shovel handle like a rifle. A superior officer with a grave expression on his face, flanked by two grim looking guards, stood facing the thirty-strong group.
The officer announced that they were to participate in a very important manoeuvre, one that could mean the difference between victory and defeat should the Germans or any other foreign army occupy the country.
“Gentlemen” he thundered, “you will play a vital part in the simulated capture of a city, the great ancient capital of Ireland, Kilkenny, which, for the purpose of this exercise, we shall pretend has fallen into the hands of an advancing German army, and whose citizens are depending on us, that’s you and me, to take back our beloved city and relieve their dreadful plight.
“Tanks have shelled the city, reducing half of it to rubble, flights of bombers have pounded it, and fighter planes have strafed people going about their business in the streets. You have the onerous and crucial responsibility of rising to this Herculean challenge. Will you be up to it? Do you have what it takes, men? I very much hope so.
“Because do bear in mind that some day, and perhaps a lot sooner than many of you think, we may have to mount such an operation. We may have to go into action against an invader. The future of Ireland, and the safety of its citizens, may be in your hands, men.”
The officer then outlined the proposed role of the Callan group in the exercise: They were to proceed with great stealth towards Kilkenny and take it in a surprise attack that would leave the enemy reeling and disorientated.
The element of surprise would be vital, he warned, as otherwise the “Germans” would mow them down and torture anyone caught alive to within an inch of his wretched life. At the mention of this, a few volunteers gulped nervously. He made it all sound so real.
The thirty Callan men taking part would be just one of several groups converging on the city, the officer explained. The Group’s Intelligence Section reported that the enemy (regular Irish Army troops ) had taken up well-concealed positions between Kilkenny and Tullamaine and that the Callan men must avoid being spotted by these forces.
For their part, the army troops had orders to fire blank ammunition at the “surprise attackers” if they caught sight of them.
The Callan group would have to reach Kilkenny on foot, and avoid using public roads where possible due to possible enemy lookouts and troop movements.
They proceeded furtively through fields at Tullamaine, fondling their broom and shovel handles as if their lives depended on them.
Seamus emitted a cry of pain when he ripped his left hand on a thorn while climbing over a ditch. Other men got badly stung by nettles or cursed as they stepped into steaming heaps of cow dung or sheep droppings.
Panic ensued at one point when a bull threatened to sabotage the whole exercise. They were alighting in a field one by one over a stile. Before less than half of them, including Seamus who had wrapped a bandage around his cut hand, had mounted the ditch, they spotted a large Friesian bull at the opposite end of the long field.
He was standing, glaring at them, and kicking up sods of grass and clay all around him.
“Jaysus lads we’re dead”! somebody roared.
The officer commanding the group called for calm: “Steady now lads. We have a dicey situation here…if we show that bastard we’re afraid of him, he’ll love it. He’ll gore the first body he can sink his horns into. Let’s relax now, and walk…very slowly…past him. Try not to look at him”.
He turned around and ordered the men who had yet to enter the field to join them immediately. Quietly swearing, they began slowly to climb the stile.
“On the double” the officer repeated, seeing they were in no hurry to leave their safe haven. But as he hollered, the bull snorted and began to edge menacingly closer to the men.
Nervously, they kept moving towards a timber gate at the opposite end of the field that was about twenty yards to the left of the bull.
The first trembling members of the group were within about ten yards of the gate, in Seamus’s estimation, when the bull suddenly broke into a gallop, rushing straight for them…
Continued…(Extract from Are We Invaded Yet? by John Fitzgerald )
