When I was young boy growing up in the west of Ireland, I would often hear the older people say, that the three curses of Ireland were, the English, drink and religion. I have experienced much in my lifetime. to confirm their analysis to be absolutely correct. My father used to drink a fair bit and from my earliest memories, I witnessed him come home regularly and batter my mother, before he would turn his attention to me. I made an oath to myself when I was sixteen, that one day, I would have a home of my own, that would be so much different. One of my brief moments of hope in our home, was, when one day he packed his suitcase and said he was going back to England. It was very brief, as he left, he looked at my brothers, sisters and myself, as I watched him change his mind. My heart dropped. and I subsequently lived through, years of what can be best descibed as a domestic war zone.
He was also a blueshirt, who as a young teenager, attended their fascist rallies. I vowed again to myself at 17, that when I was 18 that I would accept no more beatings, at which time, I duly stood up to him, looked him squarely in the eye and told him, if he laid a hand on me, I would batter him, which I duly did, wherepon he went out and got the same slashhook, that I witnessed both of parents take to each other in the previous 18 years. I had also made my mind up at that stage to be a priest. That was before I found drink and Catholic sex, which changed my mind. On his deathbed, he apologized to me and admitted that, the Cause of the Irish Republic, was the correct one.
Well a few years went by and circumstances in Ireland, dictated that I took the same boat to England, that my father, decades previously had, preceding World War 2. One day as I walked up Kilburn Highroad in London, a young lady approached me from the Workers Revolutionary Party and essentially explained to me, that only International Socialism, had the solution to the World's problems, as opposed to national communism or capitalism. She explained to me the basics of dialectic materialism and so I joined. Around thsi time the Guildford 4 & the Birmingham 6 were framed for crimes, that put them away for the rest of their lives, for crimes they did not commit, as a warning to the irish community in England, to toe the British line. I was aware of this, just as I was aware of the slaughter of scores of innocent unarmed Civil Rights protesters in Derry and Belfast. I had contradictions with the WRP, ignoring these atrocities and left. Around about this time, two Irish Hunger Strikers from the west of Ireland died on Hunger Strikes in British gaols, which had a profound effect on me, being from the same part of Ireland.
I was also living in the same house, from which the Guilford 4 were taken, with some other non politcal Irish lads from the northern part of Ireland. One day a young woman of about 20, turned up. She seemed lost in the big City of London and without direction. With the best of non sexual motives, I tried to help her, get her bearings and took her to the Irish Club in Quex Road. After I introduced her to a few people. I then danced, drank and flirted, with some other Irish acquaintances, that I had known over time. When we returned to the house, the young woman took an overdose, and had to be rushed to the local Emergency Department, where she was punped out.
After she was released, I could see she was distressed and I tried to be as good a friend as I could, without getting overly intimate. Over the following weeks. she told me, that she had been sent by the IRA to bomb London. I could see she was in no fit state for such activity and I was distressed myself, about what was the correct course of action. I decided myself, that I needed to contact some senior Republicans and volunteer to take her place, as being the only solution under the circumatances, as I knew her life depended on their being a reasonable solution. At this time, we became aware, that we were under 24 hour surveillance by British intelligence, which went on for what seemed like an eternity.
Irish people in London at that time, aware of what happened to the Guilford 4 & Birmingham 6, were often paranoid, as we ourselves were becoming in this situation. Under these circumstances, it was decided the best I could do, was work with the United Troops Out Movement in London, along with the IRSP and Sinn Fein, to get the British out of Ireland. Our English conrades, mostly from the fringes of the Labour party, many of whom were colleagues of Ken Livingstone, who went on to be become Mayor of London, were an inspiration, with their tireless work for British witdrawal from Ireland. Many people still fail to realize, that more than 70% of the English population have Irish ancestry, with years of immigration from Ireland.
Nevertheless both my new Irish friend and I, became increasingly isolated in London. She slept at the foot of my bed for safety reasons many nights. One night after drinking, we slept together, which then became a habit, until we eventually we had sex. Like a lot of Catholic sex at that time, it was without contraceptives and when I awoke in the mornings, I became aware of the consequence. Besides, we had become very intimate, in many other respects, so we decided the correct thing to do, was to get married. My wife was a very principled woman but like me very passionate and quite volatile or perhaps I have this effect on people.
She had at that time, many unresolved issues, as a result of growing up in the tinderbox of the sectarian scum state, in the northern part of Ireland. I also with hindsight, can see I had many issues myself, as a result of growing up in my own childhood home. At this time, our home was broken into on several occasions, by agents of the British State. On one occasion I returned home from work, to find my wife unconscious, after the house was ransacked by the British. On another occasion, I returned home to find our newborn child, alone in the house, screaming, after my wife was taken into custody for interrogation and our baby left in the house unattended all day. We decided as a result, to return to Ireland, which was probably the target of our harassment.
We lived for a while in a mobile home and I got work locally but I could not ignore the realities of what was happeing in the part of the Ireland, where my wife came from. All of her family were also there. During this time, I drank heavily and although working, I was a poor husband, which affected my wife and she became increasingly volatile/ While trying to restrain her, I may have slapped her a few times when drunk, I honestly cannot recall, which reminds me of a true story in Ireland, of a man waking up in a police cell in the morning, asking why he was detained. Not receiving an answer, he asked to see his wife, whereupon he was told she was dead. When he asked what happened to her, he was told you murdered her.
The remorse of the re-occurrring nightmare of my own childhood home tortured me and I drank even more. We decided after many arguments and scuffles, which I would still maintain, I was trying to restrain her. I was nevertheless very aware the effect, this might have on our first child, and the only solace I seemed to find, was in alcohol, which was still working to a degree in this respect. I arrived in Newry, British Occupied Ireland on the day Lord Mountbatten and his entourage were blown out of the water, not too far from where, both Micheal Gaughan and Frank Stagg, the two Hunger Strikers in England, were born and buried. It was also the same day, that something like 20 British soldiers were blown up, just outside the town, where I had just arrived. I have written posts previously, on what transpired subsequently, from my own experience in that part of Ireland.
There is an article in todays Irish papers, that instigated me writing this piece, which is published below from the Guardian. I above all people, cannot write about the rights and wrongs of it all, other than be aware drink was involved, and certainly cannot make any judgement whatsoever, there but for the stardust, go I. After careful consideration, I have publicshed this article, to reinforce my belief, that to have any genuine peace in Ireland, and to move away from reactionary politics in Ireland, caused by the British presence, into some form of a progressive agenda, a transparent Truth & Reconciliation forum of substance, mentored by someonr of international substance, like Archbishop Tutu is established immediately, rather than waiting for all of the victims & participants to die.
The British State is built on a foundation of their Act's of Secrecy, while the Provos & their associates, instigate the censorship of the likes of this blog from being posted on any Facebook group. There are too many dark secrets among their insincere leadership, that are making Ireland just as sick as it's many secrets and only the truth can make us free. They have just signed up to yet another so called agreement, which if you examine it carefully, is just an agreement to disagree, and kick it all down the road, until everyone involved is dead.
My wife and I proceeded to have five children together in that part of Ireland. They today like others of their generation, carry the legacy of the lies, that murdered more than 6 million of my ancestors. It just doesn't go away you know, not until the truth sees the light of day and there is some form of reconciliation. It was many, many years later, I learned, that a self confessed agent of the British Crown, working within the IRA, who was responsible for my ex-wife's visit to London, something they and their numerous other agents, have worked very hard to conceal. I guarantee you, she was not the only one, indeed it is still happening today. So if you want to make a start, to make a stand on this isuue, perhaps you might post this to your Facebook groups, from which I am currently prevented, from sharing by Provo & British agents. Sinead O'Connor while joning a party that is no longer republican, is correct in her call, for all of the old guard to stand down, the difficulty is replacing them with a younger generation of people, who have Ireland and its people's interests at heart, starting with truth & reconciliation not careerism.
A prominent Irish republican who escaped from Brixton prison after being put behind bars for killing a Garda detective has been arrested for allegedly stabbing his wife on Christmas Eve.
Pearse McAuley, who was convicted of killing Garda detective Jerry McCabe in 1996, is in custody after his wife was stabbed repeatedly at their home in the Republic on Wednesday.
McAuley is being questioned about the attack on his wife Pauline, a former Sinn Féin councillor, at their house in County Cavan. The mother of two was rushed to hospital and underwent emergency surgery for a punctured lung, after she was stabbed a number of times during the knife attack at the couple’s Kilnaleck home.
McAuley escaped from Brixton prison in London in July 1991 along with fellow IRA man Nessan Quinlivan. Originally from Strabane in Northern Ireland, McAuley had been awaiting trial on conspiracy to murder and explosives charges in Britain when the IRA staged the breakout.
Five years later, McAuley was part of an IRA unit that attempted to carry out a robbery in Adare in County Limerick. During the botched heist, the gang shot dead Garda detective Jerry McCabe and severely wounded his colleague Ben O’Sullivan.
Sinn Féin tried to portray the robbery and fatal shooting as the acts of apolitical criminals and later blamed rival republican group, the Irish National Liberation Army.
The coverup created widspread anger among the Garda Siochána’s rank and file over what many believed was a bogus story motivated by protecting the peace process.
It emerged that McAuley and four other members of the IRA’s Munster brigade had been responsible. Although murder charges against them were dropped, McAuley was later convicted of manslaughter.
Sinn Féin continued to argue for McAuley and three other IRA members connected to the McCabe killing to be released. When McAuley was eventually freed from jail in 2009, he was met at the prison by Sinn Féin Dail deputy and convicted gunrunner Martin Ferris.
