We were not allowed pen or paper in prison; so, one method of contacting each other was to use a needle and with that perforate the message on a part of the bible or any other type of paper. This was, indeed, a very successful way. It was by means of such" needle messages" one found out, for example, that the Catholic Chaplain, a Canon, was strongly anti-Irish. This message came to me through Tom Crawford who was in hospital, as also from Sean Nolan and other of my companions. This Chaplain used to come and hear their [40] confessions on Saturdays. So, one Saturday afternoon, I got between him and the cell doors, "Any news from Ireland, Canon?" I asked. "Oh", he said, "they are murdering unfortunate policemen from behind ditches, scaring and driving the entire population out of their minds by such desperate actions". "No, Canon", I replied "those are not 'unfortunate' policemen, they are nothing but a bunch of hooligans with rifles, bombs, and revolvers killing the truly unfortunate civilians, and raiding and burning their homes for good measure!" He only gasped and before he could open his mouth I continued, "I suppose the same excuse you give me now was probably also given when Clive shot Indians out of cannon mouth, or about the concentration camps in South Africa where the British starved women and children of the Boers, or about the Peshawar massacre, or about Kitchener's actions in Khartoum and Egypt. Now, the same uncivilised butchery goes on in Ireland all under the cloak of England's sanctimonious pleas of "trying to civilise the natives". Surely Canon, it's about time that even you changed that tune." He just ran away from me without uttering a single word, and that ended all hopes of any further conversation. Our Catholic "Church" was actually nothing but a big shed in the exercise yard. Just before Christmas the Canon announced from the altar that no confessions could be heard from us before the feast of Christmas, since they were "all very busy". He made this very clear to us and this meant too, of course, that we could not receive Holy Communion. Adopting the usual procedure, I walked up to the rails but was stopped by the Chief Warder who, having sensed my intention, said to me, "Didn't you hear the Canon say that he cannot hear confessions?" The Canon was standing by and I knew he could hear every word, so, I said quite loudly, "As a Catholic I have the right to request that my confession is heard so that I can receive Communion on Christmas Day." I won, -- and while five of my companions joined me, the remaining four backed down. Their lack of moral courage, especially on such an important occasion, greatly annoyed and disappointed me. [41] Tom Crawford had been put into the prison hospital ward with a case of severe exhaustion, but he was able to attend Mass on Sundays. One day when I asked him if he got sufficient food, he amazed me when he said, "More food than I can eat and as to bread well, there I can get all I want." So, I suggested to him that he should bring some of the bread along on Sunday mornings, and I would take it from him during Mass. This he did, and I got three extra ounces of bread on two consecutive Sundays. The third Sunday came, and with it too my extra bread ration via Tom. However, that bread must have been about a week old, for, when I hastily and furtively stuffed it inside my coat, it broke into small pieces and, on the way from the Chapel to my cell, I left a tell-tale trail of crumbs all along the corridor! Back to my cell I rushed where I devoured the remainder in one big gulp greatly afraid that a raid would come right away. (I must inject here that Crawford, who had constantly been on bad terms with the Canon, succeeded at about that time in getting some outside publication - which we, incidentally, never saw - to print an account of his, Crawford's, protests. This obviously did anything else but help to improve our conditions with the Canon.) It was quite clear to me that the warders must have noticed the crumbs on the floor and must have guessed that Crawford was bringing out the extra bread from the hospital, since none of the other prisoners had any to give away. Sure enough, Crawford was promptly fired out of the hospital ward and back to his cell. Of course, he was furious and blamed it on the Canon. He even "needled" a message to me to the extent that we should try and get some more publicity on the outside regarding the bad treatment he had received - that at a time when neither I nor
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