encountered with the top of the bomb. Right away, he showed great enthusiasm in the progress we had made so far and promised to help. Some weeks later, I was back in Dublin together with the Cork team and this time, Tom Cullen showed his "trust and friendship" (if that's what it is to be called!) by handing Mick Murphy and myself a bag containing 300 detonators. We accepted that lethal little package; returning to Cork on the night train, Mick and I gingerly placed our load underneath our seats and, after spreading our coats over it carefully and lovingly we then proceeded to play cards with the rest of the lads all the way home. None of them had the faintest idea of the contents of our little bag! Mick and I, though dutifully appreciative of Tom Cullen’s trust and "generous" gift were also rather apprehensive in case of explosion by foot activity. In 1918 Ray Kennedy, O.C. of the College Company and also a Chemistry Instructor at University College Cork, set up "special classes" for us which many of us attended, including myself. All of his "Students" gained so much knowledge in the manufacture of explosives that they were later transferred to engineering units of the IRA. But at that time, our efforts to produce failed, solely due to the need of manufacturing the enormous pressure needed to create even one cubic or square inch of gun cotton. Consequently, the only way out of our dilemma was to try and acquire gelignite by raiding, and this was done all over Ireland. Our desire and urgent need for equipment resulted in constant experimenting. I remember one time when one of our soldiers somehow secured a .44 revolver but no ammunition. We discovered that by cutting down a .303 rifle bullet and countersinking the revolver barrel, we might be able to use it yet. When all the adjusting had been completed and we were ready to test fire it, I insisted that the revolver be first tied to a tree and triggered off with a string. Fortunately, my suggestion was accepted and that probably saved a life because the explosion blew the gun to smithereens. We then realised that all of us had overlooked the fact that, in a rifle bullet, cordite is used as a primer, this being entirely too powerful for use in a revolver. [10] Early in 1920 an attack was planned on Farran Barracks to take place on a Saturday night. Meeting that afternoon in Thomas Ashe Club, Cork, and discussing the details concerning the explosive charge with Mick Murphy, Myles Guerin, and Tom Corcoran, I noticed that some of the 20 sticks of gelignite we planned to use were frozen; the nitro- glycerine had disintegrated to a dusty residue. Our Engineers had thought the 20 sticks quite sufficient to blow a breach in the barracks gable-wall but now, only 12 sticks were intact and I was convinced that this severely reduced quantity would fail to make a sufficiently large breach. So, I suggested that we go to Suttons there to get some petrol and a hose in order to set fire to the barracks. After being assured by some of our lads that there was no need for that precaution and that the remaining 12 sticks would do the job, we set off in cars stopping about one mile from the barracks, and then walking the rest of the way. To help Myles and Tom Corcoran, I lifted the charge on my shoulder and, right away, the irrepressible Jimmy Walsh, also one of our party, whispered to met "In the name of so and so, what would you carry that thing for?? It might go up and blow us all to pieces”. I did recognise the merit in Jimmy's remark and put the charge down off my shoulder and carried it myself more carefully. Directly adjacent to the barracks was a cottage, occupied by a woman and her five children. We went into the house, telling her of our plan, and explaining that, if our plan to make the breach was to be successful, she and the children would have to leave their home for safety's sake. We then manned our positions and I was placed at the back door of the barracks. As I lay there stretched out flat on the grass, armed with a .45 revolver and three egg bombs (named so by ourselves for their small size -- but we had overrated ideas as to their effectiveness). I suddenly saw the mother and her five children as they passed by behind me quietly departing from their home, carrying just a few of their meagre possessions which they had been able to grab quickly. There was not a whimper nor a sigh out of any of them! To me, one of the most remarkable and unforgettable displays of courage and unquestioning sacrifice I ever experienced. The next thing I knew was the charge going off with a roar and the dust settling on me for what seemed to be an endless time. Then Verey lights of distress signals sprang up from the barracks, lighting up the whole countryside and through the [11] rapid cracks of rifle fire that came from inside, I heard Tadg Sullivan's voice yelling: "Surrender in the Name of the Irish Republic or accept the consequences!"
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