There was, and still is, a distinctive cleavage in the social and economic existance of the
Catholics and Protestants of Ulster. In cities like Belfast and Derry they live at separate
ends of the town. The name of the home-city of Derry is mapped as 'Londonderry' and called
such by the Orangemen. The Catholics, however, stick to the ancient Gaelic name. And so the
antipathies that time had veneered broke out in feudal virulence when the IRA campaign
began in 1920.
Intermarriage meant ostracism, and employers of labour in Belfast boycotted the Catholic if
a Protestant applicant could be found. There were general exceptions to this bigoted policy,
of course, but the shipyards of Belfast were notorious for their favouritism. The
reprisals of the papists, as we are called, were sometimes very effective. There is no cure
for intolerance so searching as boycott. Hundreds of Orange business men felt the power of
the economic thrust. It touched their pockets. The Catholics in Derry, slightly outnumbering
the Protestants, were unwilling to accept the Church's 'turn the other cheek' policy.
There were as many hoodlums on the one side as on the other to start a fight or finish one;
and any weapon would do - fists, stones or hurlies.
During the Derry rioting, in which I was a participant, the British, acting as referees,
brought machine-guns and rifles to clear the streets at what might be called 'half' and
'full-time'. The soldiers took some pleasure in raking the thoroughfares, and shot without
scruple at any head that appeared from a window or door.
The Catholics - or at least the sympathisers of the Republic - were not blameless, but,
due to the pogrom policy of the British Orangemen in the North, they were easily the worst
sufferers. Families were murdered under pretext of a search, and the poor, as usual, had no
recourse to justice.
Of the sectarian rioting of Derry I write as a combatant and eyewitness. In July 1920 the
city was like a town on the Western front. Business was suspended and the shops barricaded
against looting. Bodies lay in the streets for days because no man dared to risk a dash
into the line of fire to drag them away.
Most of the action took place in the Catholic quarter, where I was attached to a small
company of men whose task was the protection of the Republican families. Eventually we
took to the open, and entrenched ourselves at the corner of Bishop Street facing the Orange
sector commanding the Catholic quarter. Frequent sorties took place, with heavy casualties,
for we were seriously handicapped by the lack of medical attention. For five days no one
dare venture out of doors save the combatants.
One incident in Bishop Street is unforgettable. A Catholic labourer, with whom I was
acquainted, tried to cross the street during the lull. Immediately he was picked off by an
Orange sniper. His body lay in the middle of the roadway, a stream of blood running from
the hole in his chest.
Generally speaking, women-folk were spared from the fire, although some suffered injuries
trying to defend their men from murder.
One old hag, who lived close by, repeatedly walked out of her house screaming vile and
blasphemous epithets at the Pope and the Catholics in general. We paid no attention to her
at first - until she hobbled over to the body of the murdered workman. But, dipping
handkerchiefs into the pool of blood which surrounded him, she shrieked with ghoulish glee.
Three times she returned for more blood, kicking and abusing the corpse and reviling the
Pope. At last we trained our rifles on her, warning her off; but she misjudged her immunity
and, cursing the mothers who bore us, insisted that we were the brood of whores and bitches.
'Let's draw lots and shoot her. That isn't a woman - it's a devil!' I said to my
companions.
We drew and the task fell to me. As a warning to her, I fired several rounds of random
shot. My companions did likewise. Then, during a lull, she once more strode into the
thoroughfare carrying white strips which, apparently, she was distributing amongst her
neighbours as souvenirs of papist blood. Just as she bent down to dip her rags in the red
pool I fired - so did the others, forgetting the lottery in their anger. The hag spun round
and fell beside the body she was desecrating.
Under a white flag, her friends ventured forth and pulled the corpse out of the street.
When the siege ended, however, the walls of the city were plastered with filthy epithets
concerning Catholics. Some of these were printed in the blood of the victims.
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