Under the July Sun Read Free Page B

herself unable to utter a word. Warily, she looked around her.
    Nothing remained of the barrack gates except a yawning gap and a deep hole gouged into the ground. The walls on either side of the gates had been destroyed for a distance of several yards and part of the barracks inside had collapsed, trapping the men. She could hear them crying out for help.
    Private White lay in the road motionless, his uniform blackened and torn, his damaged bloodied limbs and torso exposed. Cat watched Louis dash over to him, and kneel to cradle the dying man in his arms.
    She heard soldiers running. They emerged from the barracks, some covered in dust with trails of blood trickling down their whitened bodies. Rifles raised ready to fire, they stood in an orderly row forming a ghostly troop amidst the chaos.
    Then another movement caught Cat's attention. There was someone slipping down the alleyway opposite.
    It looked like Paddy Hogan.
    Footnotes
    1 'Póg mo thóin – kiss my arse (pronounced – pug ma hone)

2
Monroe, Fethard
July 31st 1914
    Ned watched his wife Maeve kneading dough, pounding it into a rounded mound; then with a knife she made the sign of a cross on its flaccid surface.
    â€˜What time’s Paddy bringin’ out the new cart Ned?’
    He took his pocket watch out, flicked open the case and read the time. ‘Should be along soon, ’tis nearly eleven.’ Seeing the dough was ready for baking, Ned began turning the bellows wheel, fanning air into the sleeping fire. Gradually the embers sprang to life, gusting hot ash, into the fire basket.
    He rose from his stool and ambled across to peer through a little window overlooking the yard while Maeve dusted the loaf with flour, wiped her hands, lifted the bread shovel from its hook, and deftly manoeuvred the dough onto it.
    â€˜Ned, will ye open the oven now?’
    He moved back to the fire and, with a poker, flipped open the cast iron door. Carefully, as though lifting a baby into its cradle, Maeve moved across the room holding the bread shovel; then with a quick jolt she shoved the dough in and slammed the door shut.
    Rubbing his chin, Ned returned to stare out of the window. ‘How much longer is Cat goin’ to hide away in that barn?’
    â€˜Ah! Leave her be, Ned. Sure she’s in shock.’
    â€˜She’s been doin’ it for days now!’
    â€˜It’ll take as long as it takes.’
    â€˜Murderin’ swines! Sure, I’d like to get me hands on them. Will ye call her out, Maeve, I’m bustin’ for a pee?’
    â€˜G’w’on round the back.’
    â€˜I can’t keep dodgin’ round the back.’
    â€˜Ah! Ye’ve no patience at all. Praise be to God, she’ll come out of it soon enough.’
    He sighed and lumbered out of the cottage to the back garden where he relieved himself against a tree. Buttoning his flies he returned to the kitchen and sat on a stool beside the fire watching twists of sweet peat-smelling smoke drift up the chimney.
    â€˜Any news of the weddin’ yet?’
    She pursed her lips, irritated with the question. ‘No! And don’t ye go askin’ her.’
    Ned began to whistle.
    â€˜Will ye stop that row, Ned? Ye know I can’t stand it when ye do that.’
    â€˜Ah! Woman there’s no pleasin’ ye. Will I go and lay on the railway line so ye’ve got rid of me whistlin’ once and for all?’
    â€˜Don’t be childish Ned, it doesn’t become ye.’
    â€˜Ha! I’ll keep meself quiet then shall I?’
    â€˜Well, say somethin’ sensible if ye must speak. So long as ’tis not that whistlin’.’
    â€˜Well how’s this then for conversation? I hear the English Captain is up and about again.’
    Maeve raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that so? And how’s he doin’?’
    â€˜Considering everything, I heard he’s not so bad. He’s mainly cut about the face and