Saturday 2 April 2016

Maie Corry's Easter Rising Experience: 3


The experience of living through the Easter Rising was made all the more intense for Maie Corry, as for so many other Dubliners, by the fact that a family member – in her case her beloved older brother Sam – was fighting with a British army regiment in France, having joined the Inniskilling Fusiliers as a volunteer in 1915. On the evening of Thursday 27 April the scenes she witnessed became increasingly distressing, as the contingents of soldiers arriving from Kingstown came within sight of the GFS Lodge:

‘They came along Mount Street, in one of the houses of which there were some Sinn Feiners, almost opposite the Pharmaceutical School. From this house we could see the smoke as they fired on the poor soldiers. I saw one man getting shot, on the leg I think, as he was able to limp on past the dangerous house. Afterwards I saw him being carried into a house on the Square which had beeen turned into a hospital. At last they all got past, how many wounded I do not know. The last of them halted along the Square where they remained all night. The poor fellows seemed very glad to get the tea which most of the houses gladly provided. One boy told us that they had just marched from Kingstown, and that they hadn’t tasted tea since Monday morning in Liverpool. Since then they had been waiting there until it was safe to cross the Channel, which was infested with torpedoes. Probably the Germans were expecting troop-ships, and thought to sink them, but as far as we hear they all arrived safely.

‘Thousands more soldiers came along the same way next day, Friday. It was too awful to see them halt just before they came to this house, and then at the word of command make one dash on until they were out of danger. At first they used to line up right across the road one deep, but that was probably too slow a method, and in the end they just kept to the footpaths on each side, about two deep, dashing, dashing, dashing on for dear life. I saw another poor fellow who was shot lying on the path just in front of the house from which they were firing, and one of his comrades run back to drag him to safety. I do not know how badly he may have been wounded, but it must have been pretty badly. At the same time another fell on the other side of the street, and after that I could hardly bear to look any more, I grew so sick with dread each time I saw them brace themselves for that fateful dash.

Later some of the rebels got down to a house at the very end of Mount Street, one of the corner houses of the Square. They also had possession of the railway line, which runs along behind our side of the Square. Either from here or from houses in Holles Street in which they may have been hiding they were able to shoot right along Holles Street, thus making that particular corner a most dangerous and difficult one to pass. So although the artillery which came in on Saturday morning went round some other way to avoid Mount Street, and came along the side of the Square nearest us, they did not escape danger as they had to pass the corner house and also the opening into Holles Street. They could not go along the side opposite us as by that time the Sinn Feiners had got into a good many of the houses on that side and were actually firing from the windows across at the soldiers who lay on the footpath on our side returning their fire. Our side of the Square had been occupied by the military day and night since Thursday night, and on Friday night the firing across the Square had been very violent, most violent of all we had experienced. 

Junction of Mount St & Merrion Sq. Holles St is on right, No 28 a few houses beyond. 1992


How all the artillery got safely round this corner I do not know, but I think their arrival was more exciting to me than anything else. They galloped down the Square, round the corner and past Holles Street, waggons after wagons of them, for nearly an hour on end. One soldier was early crushed between the back of his own waggon and the two horses of the next, but after a little he was able to limp on. The wheel came off another waggon, and the horses were galloping so quickly it was almost impossible to get them pulled up. Even when they did get stopped those behind were almost on top of them and those behind that on top of them, and so on.

Worst of all, the second half of one of the waggons became detached just at the very corner, and remained there overturned, while the horses and driver galloped on unaware of what had happened. Those behind could not see the upturned waggon until they were almost on it and could barely pull aside in time to pass safely. At last the driver and a few men came back and there at the very most dangerous part of the whole way they had to stop, not knowing what minute might be their last, until they got the waggon put right and it was able to gallop on.

During all this time ambulances and doctors in white coats and nurses in their white aprons simply thronged the streets. Nobody else was allowed out, except a privileged few who had permits from some of the authorities. We saw any amount of wounded carried up in stretchers from Holles Street, and others carried from the ambulances into two houses in the Square which had been temporarily turned into hospitals. Then in the direction of Sackville Street we could see the glare of fire by night and smoke by day, for three or four days. 

Postcard from Maie Corry's own collection
'By Saturday night firing in the city seemed to be somewhat diminished. Our soldiers opposite had told us that the rebels had been given until six o’clock on Sunday morning to surrender, and if not – the artillery would be used without mercy. So when we heard a rumour that the leaders had surrendered we were inclined to believe it. Only in our own direction, and in Mount Street the firing seemed to be going on as bad as ever. The soldiers had somehow managed to get into the corner house – we actually saw them shoot several times into the basement and saw the smoke of bursting bombs which they threw down there too. We afterwards learned that there was an underground passage from that house right along one side of the Square into the houses on the opposite side, which explains how they came to be firing from those houses so unexpectedly. Shooting still went on in Mount Street on Sunday until about one o’clock we heard the command “Don’t fire on the white flag!” and soon after we saw a little band of rebels, the first of them carrying a white flag, march out into Mount Street with uplifted hands. It took some time to arrange them with a competent guard – there were one hundred and five – and then they marched off in the opposite direction.

De Valera's rebel garrison from Boland's Bakery surrender

'After that things were very much quieter, though there were still occasional shots at snipers, and we could still see military snipers on the roofs of adjacent houses, and we were not yet allowed out.

'After tea on Monday Miss Gilbert said she would take four of us for a little walk if the sentries would let us pass. First we went in the direction of town where we had heard Sackville Street was in ruins, but the Sentry at the end of the Square, though very nice, would on no account let us pass, so we retraced our steps and tried the other direction. The sentry here was more amenable to reason, told us to “double” past a gateway from which they were still firing, and escorted us to the next sentry, who escorted us to the next and so on until we got as far as the now famous Mount Street Bridge, where we picked up quite a number of empty bullets as souvenirs.
Clanwilliam House
  
'Clanwilliam House, which had been a rebel stronghold, was nothing but bare walls now. There were a few articles of furniture in the garden, where the poor little flowers were all trampled and withered. We were escorted by the same sentries on our return journey and reached Merrion Square in Safety.

‘Next morning we were allowed to have our first walk through the city, and what a sight! Sackville Street, the pride of Dublin, lay in ruins. The newspapers may describe it, but no description can give any adequate idea of the appearance of that once beautiful street. In my wildest dreams I couldn’t have pictured such a scene of destruction, and I will not attempt to describe [it].

Postcard from Maie Corry's own collection



Thursday, May 4th, 1916

'Everything and everybody is settling down quite wonderfully. The shops are opening again, and everybody who can is getting back to business. One or two trams have actually passed here this morning already, and it is all beginning to look like a bad dream. There is no sign of classes being resumed yet at Lower Mount Street, probably because there is no gas and we can do so little without gas. I won’t go again until Monday.’
O'Connell Bridge, Sackville Street and  Eden Quay/Lower Abbey Street [ALAMY]