played a major part in the fight for the freedom of Ireland. Before I ever heard of De Valera or Michael Collins, Tom Barry, with his flying column, was a household name.
We knew the words of âThe Boys of Kilmichaelâ, âThe Upton Am bushâ and âThe Men of Barryâs Columnâ because they were taught by nationally-minded teachers in schools and sung by local men and women doing their daily work or meeting at threshing or station parties. For me the songs had a special significance because my uncle, Pat OâDonovan was one of âthe boys of Kilmichaelâ and my motherâs family was deeply involved in the Republican movement. But I was also influenced by the fact that the Hales family, who experienced so much trauma and who were the original organisers of the Volunteers in West Cork, were neighbours. Also, during those formative years, I became acquainted with many men, each of whom were known in the locality as âone of the Old IRAâ. My father took a great interest in history as told by these people. His family hadnât been involved in the Volunteer movement, but he was a descendant of an evicted family. On some Sunday afternoons he would visit one of these old IRA men, and invariably, while quite young, I would travel with him, so I got to know these men and women who were involved in Irelandâs fight for freedom. I listened to their personal stories and I saw tears in many menâs eyes. All this was an invaluable insight for later. Furthermore, my motherâs âinsideâ knowledge aided the discussions.
Later as I thought about writing a book on the Third West Cork Brigade, I interviewed a number of men and women during the 1970s and early 1980s. I spoke extensively to the man who trained and led the flying column â Commandant General Tom Barry. We discussed ambushes and incidents, and though I had not decided to write a biography of him at the time, he jokingly mentioned this possibility at our last meeting. Because there is overlapping in much of the nine interviews and in our many meetings and conversations, I have not dated each throughout this work, but have done so with other contributors.
I have covered the Kilmichael ambush in depth, as I knew it was vital for history that the record of what exactly occurred should be investigated in so far as this was possible. It was imperative, I felt, to explore the ambush details and subsequent records.
The necessity of being vigilant with interviewees struck me very forcibly early on. Having familiarised myself with locations, with peopleâs background, I soon became alert to either unintentional or perhaps deliberate suggestions of an âuntrueâ viewpoint. While I regard oral evidence as an important part of history, as many participants would not take the trouble to consign their experience to paper, I am also aware of the importance of self-censorship, accuracy and a search for the truth. Tom Barry drew my attention to this early on when he spoke to me of the method used by Bureau of Military History members. Their brief was to record without question, every word that contributors proffered. He suggested burning that segment of the collection. This is dealt with within this book.
Relatives of those who played important parts in many of the am bushes, raids or events mentioned and whose names are not quoted, will, I hope, understand that this work is about one man, Tom Barry, and the part he played in the important activities upon which his life touched. However, I would like to say that his greatness and success was helped by the men and women who worked and fought bravely with him.
I knew from my research that Tom Barry was the âmightyâ man, the legendary commander â ruthless, daring, cold-blooded, unselfish, benign, irritable, sometimes uncompromising or compromising, open-minded or single-minded, depending on the circumstances. Described by an ex-detective sergeant
Lee Strauss, Elle Strauss