INTERROGATION AND ILL-TREATMENT BY THE BRITISH "BLACK AND TANS", JANUARY 1921 Statement of Timothy O’Connell, Ahakeera, Dunmanway. I was arrested on the morning of 2 January 1921 about a mile from the scene of the Kilmichael ambush. I happened to be in bed in a friend’s house when someone downstairs shouted ‘Tans!’ I hopped out of bed and had a look through an upstairs window. I could see two lorries stopped on the road about a few hundred yards away, The occupants of both lorries were out on the road studying the countryside through binoculars. I slipped on my trousers and coat, the latter being the coat Pat Deasy had worn when he was mortally wounded in the ambush at Kilmichael about five weeks earlier. The bullet hole was plain to be seen, and God help me if the Auxies could only guess the truth. I ran from the house a short distance, and tried to put the house between me and the enemy. I then made across the fields for a short cut to some cover and away from the road, when suddenly fire was opened on me from all directions. I then discovered that the whole place was surrounded and any hope of escape gone. I still kept going, dodging in and out through bushes and any cover I could find, but to no avail. I knew I hadn’t a hope of escape, so I lay down by a low stone fence to escape their fire which was still kept up. They were shouting at me to come out. I knew that if I showed myself then I’d get riddled with bullets. They moved up to where I lay, and hauled me to my feet. The first question they asked me was, ‘Where were you hit?’ I said that I wasn’t hit. At that they seemed disappointed to have missed me at such short range, crack shots and all as they were supposed to be. The next move was out to the road and on to the lorry. But before I was hoisted on to same I was given a few hefty wallops for good measure. The morning was awfully cold with showers of sleet, and to make matters worse I was only poorly clad, trousers, coat and shirt: I did not have time to put on boots. However, I didn’t mind the cold much as I was getting an odd wallop which helped to keep the blood in circulation! The lorries moved from Shanacashel where I was captured to Copeen. They hadn’t gone far when, meeting a cyclist, a man who knew me quite well, they stopped and asked him if he knew the prisoner. ‘No’, he said, ‘I never saw him before.’ That happened on three occasions before we reached Coppeen, and all these three people knew me. Their reason for denying me was that they thought I had given a wrong name, and they didn’t want to get me into more trouble. Before reaching Coppeen village, the lorries came to a halt. I was ordered down, and told to stand up by the fence. Five or six of them stood on the road with the rifles at the ready, and naturally I expected the volley any second. I closed my eyes and waited, but it didn’t come. We continued on to the village where they again stood me against the wall of Mr P Murphy’s shop. I could see them in conversation with him, and looking my way at the same time. Eventually one of them came over to me and said that I could thank this man (Mr Murphy) for saving my life as they would have left my brains on the wall, if he hadn’t given them my name - which of course, was the same as I had given - my right name. They moved from Coppeen southwards towards Castletown for about a mile, turned off at the next cross-roads, to the right for another mile or so where they arrested an old man whom they terrified by placing grenades in his pockets with lengths of string attached to pull the pin and blow him up: they specialised in and enjoyed this kind of stuff. They moved again back to Shanacashel to the house I had run from, and searched the place thoroughly, but found nothing. From there they moved to the townland of Lisheenleigh, where some of our boys, including the Company Captain, Jim Crowley, had been sleeping in an empty cottage. This house lay about a quarter of a mile off the road. They stopped the lorries at the nearest point to the above and moved across the fields to their objective, but came back empty-handed and sorely disappointed. I heard them say that the men they were after had just gone as the blankets were still warm. The next and final move was from there to the headquarters in Dunmanway workhouse. I was led to the guardroom where I had to take off all my clothes and was thoroughly searched. They found nothing except a scapular which they pulled off my neck and threw on the fire. I was ordered to dress and was taken to the back of the building where a hand-pump was shown to me. I was ordered to get to work turning this to supply the house with water. This job lasted non-stop for over an hour, and by then my palms were raw and bleeding. I was almost too weak to stand. It was now almost twenty-four hours since I had any food, or even a cup of tea. Although there were other prisoners there at the time, I was brought back to the guardroom where I lay on the floor until about midnight when three Auxies came in and ordered me to get on my feet. I was marched out of there, one leading and two others following just behind. We climbed a stairs leading to the top storey at the back of the building. I was led into the room, and when about halfway through the room, the leader, a great big savage, suddenly turned round, and before I could realise what was going to happen he lifted me off the floor with a punch. He didn’t drop me. I kept on my feet and took at least a few more before I went down. I made no attempt to get up until one of the other two came at me with a bayonet, and after that I stood up with my hands high to guard my face. Once again the savage moved in with a few more haymakers, and put me down for the second time. The blood was almost choking me by then: Once more I was forced to stand up to face the puncher and take more punishment. Finally, I went down to stay. I asked them to shoot me. The big fellow said, ‘No, we wouldn’t have your blood on our hands,’ even though by then they had most of what I had on their hands and clothes as well as pools on the floor. In the end one of the Auxies dragged me to the top of the stairs where I made an attempt to get to my feet. At this the big one caught me with a kick, and set me tumbling down almost half way. I then got up, and managed to walk to my cell, an unlit poke of a room where I lay on the floor until morning in agony. My face had swollen to a lump of jelly, both my eyes were almost closed, and my nose was broken. I was brought some breakfast, but I couldn’t eat it as my teeth had gone right through my lips, and I couldn’t open my mouth, save a small space in one corner. Through this small opening they fed me with soup, and it was almost a month before I could chew or swallow any solid food. A few days after I was beaten up, I was taken before the big shots, Latimer, De Havilland, and Sparrow, and questioned. All my answers to their questions were to the effect that I didn’t know anyone they mentioned, or what they were talking about - even though I knew plenty which they would have given anything to know. Before I was taken away I was told I had until six o’clock next morning to make up my mind to give them the information I had. On the way back to my cell, I was brought into another small room, the walls of which were smeared with blood as well as marks which looked like bullet holes. I was told how a few Shinners who refused to give information were shot against those walls, and that my turn wasn’t far away. Next morning at the stroke of six I was brought before the big shots. Each of them had a gun in his hand. One of them stood behind me with a gun to my neck. They started with the usual question whether I had made up my mind to give the information they wanted. I said I didn’t have any to give. They kept at me for half an hour or so, but I refused to answer. One of them wanted to shoot me there and then, but was stopped by the others, and I was then taken back to my cell, and asked no further questions. I was again moved to the guardroom, still under close arrest, and one day - I can’t understand how it could happen - my mother and a neighbour happened to get into the guardroom. How they got past the guard is still a mystery to me. I sat on a chair in the centre of the room, and both of them sat on a stool just inside the door, and there was no more than six feet between us. Neither of them recognised me for about ten minutes, when suddenly the girl spotted something that gave her a clue. At that she turned to my mother and said, ‘That’s Tim!’ Then my mother rushed towards me shouting, but she was manhandled immediately and thrown through the door. A week or so after that, three of us were taken to Cork as hostages, and arrived back in Dunmanway late last night. I had joined the other prisoners by this time, and they waited up until we arrived back, and had a grand fire to greet us - the weather was shocking cold. Naturally we got as close to the fire as possible, and in about ten minutes my false face fell off in the form of a great scab about an inch thick. So I looked almost normal again. One Monday morning shortly afterwards, I was called out along with two other prisoners, the Barrett brothers of Coppeen. Three lorries were lined up, each full of Auxies. We were ordered on board, one of us on each lorry, and were told that if one shot was fired at the lorries all three of us would be shot immediately. The first stop was the military barracks at Bandon which had been attacked the previous night. We were ordered off the lorries, and kicked through the gate. Then the Auxies told the military that they had arrested us on the road, and gave it to be understood that we had taken part in the attack on the previous night. Naturally the military decided to get their own back on us. So we were marched to the far end of the barracks where the baths were, ordered to strip off all our clothes, and stand underneath the showers. Then the cold water taps were turned on. It was a bitterly cold morning and the water was almost freezing. We had to stand under the jets of cold water until we were almost lifeless, and the military didn’t pull any punches during the proceedings so that we emerged from the showers with more black eyes. We were brought back again to the barrack square where we were shown an empty coffin which, we were told, was meant for one of us. We were to be shot at intervals of one hour beginning at three o’clock. After a short while four military came from the back of the barracks with a stretcher on which lay a boy. They asked us whether we recognised the corpse. We replied that we did not. We were then ordered to place the body in the coffin. One arm was bent and stiff, and I went to push it down by the side. As I did one of them hit me and knocked me down, while another of them pushed the arm down with his boot, and not too gently either. We put the lid on the coffin which we were then told to pick up and bring to a lorry waiting outside the gate of the barracks. Later we learned that the body was that of Volunteer Daniel O’Reilly, who had been killed in the attack on the previous night. We were held in Bandon military barracks for a week or so. Every day new prisoners were being brought in, and soon the number mounted to thirty. Then on the Saturday night about midnight fourteen of us were handcuffed in pairs and moved to Kinsale in an open lorry under heavy rain. The late Brigade Quartermaster, Dick Barrett, was one of us. On arriving at Kinsale we were ordered down off the lorry, and marched across the fields to Charles Fort. On our arrival there it was discovered that the keys of the handcuffs were left behind in Bandon. So we had to sleep on the cold floor in pairs without as much as one blanket until some time next day when the keys arrived and the handcuffs were removed. On the following Sunday we were put on the train for Cork military barracks. There we were housed in a sheet-iron hut with plenty of air holes. We did not even have a smoke, as our pockets had been turned out before we were locked up. After a week of so there we were transferred to Cork jail which happened to be about the best and safest place so far, for we were rid of Auxies, Tans and military. I spent another three weeks or so there, and was then moved down the river to Spike Island. New prisoners arrived every day until there were a couple of hundred, all of whom were handed Internment Forms, stating they were to be held for the duration of the war - all, that is, except myself. Naturally, I had doubts as to what they intended to do with me next. However, I didn’t have too long to wait. After a couple of months of so a wire reached the camp with orders for my removal back to Cork military barracks. This didn’t sound too cheerful. Our O/C in Spike, Henry O’Mahony, sent for me on hearing the news. He asked me to give him an account of my activities up to the time I was arrested. I told him everything, and he came to the conclusion that I was to be court-martialled. He gave me instructions to follow if his hunch proved to be correct ie to re-apply for legal aid, witnesses etc. He feared that I would be accused of taking part in the Kilmichael ambush. As well as advice he gave me some of his own clothes and cash to help me on my way. I have never forgotten that kind act of Henry. At midnight an armed guard arrived and marched me down to the harbour, I was put aboard the boat that was sailing up to Cork. A car and two officers were waiting for me when we landed, and they brought me in the car to the barracks. They had erected two extra huts there by then, all full of prisoners, and the only one I knew was Dick Barrett (I forgot to mention that he was released from Kinsale, and had been re-arrested). He was asleep when I entered the hut. It was about 5.00am, and he could not imagine where I had come from at that hour. I sat down beside him and told him the story. He thought it sounded bad. There was one prisoner in that hut whom I didn’t know then, one of the Clonmult survivors named Paddy Higgins. He had been wounded in the fight and taken prisoner. After a week or so both he and I were called out, and marched across the square to the court-martial quarters. He was led in while I was kept outside the door. He was in for less than fifteen minutes when he came out, and was put on a lorry bound for Cork jail: he had been sentenced to death. I was marched back to the hut without being asked a question. This happened about three times in all, and on each occasion the prisoner was sentenced, but I was never taken inside the door of the murder room. A couple of weeks went by before my next move, which was back to Bandon. I spent another couple of weeks there, and was moved finally back to Dunmanway workhouse where the Auxies were lodged. On 11 May I was released conditionally, and ordered to report back every Saturday morning at eleven o’clock. Once I was outside that building, I prayed that the next time I would come face to face with that gang of murderers I would have a gun in my hands. (Signed) Tim O’Connell (Signed) James Crowley, Company O.C (Witness)