Michael O’Mahony says his mother Kitty lived with a regret for much of her life.
As an 11-year-old, she turned down a goodbye kiss from her uncle Michael Collins as he left Johnno Crowley’s in his native Clonakilty, Co Cork a century ago to drive into death and history at Béal na Bláth.
A grandson of Collins’s older brother, Johnny, O’Mahony on Monday visited the monument commemorating Collins at Béal na Bláth, exactly 100 years on from his famous ancestor’s death in an ambush by anti-Treaty IRA members on August 22nd, 1922.
O’Mahony was joined by his cousin Helen Collins to mark the moment, just as he had done 60 years earlier with Helen’s father and Collins’ nephew, the late Liam Collins. Back then, remembering and honouring Collins was a very different experience to what it is now.
“I remember thinking how lonely it was because there was no one here then except my uncle Liam and myself that August evening in 1962,” he said.
“We went up the boreen there and it was misty then because the trees weren’t absorbing the mist – everything was rising off the stream and it was much more misty,” he went on, nodding across the stream towards where the ambushers would have assembled ahead of the attack.
“The impression we got was that they wouldn’t have had a very clear view. They would have known it was an officer from the cap, so it could have been Collins or (Emmet) Dalton or (Seán) O’Connell, but I doubt if they would have been able to identify anyone in particular.
“We came here about at 7.40pm. The considered time that Collins was shot was about 8.10pm, but it probably was a bit later because they stopped with Sean Hales in Bandon and maybe had a whiskey or something for the night with him.”
Nowadays, an official annual commemoration of the ambush and death of Collins takes place on the Sunday nearest August 22nd. Sunday’s event was addressed by Taoiseach Micheál Martin and Tánaiste Leo Varadkar with thousands of people in attendance.
More spontaneous
Monday’s gathering had a far more spontaneous feel, with people from Clonakility, Bandon, Kinsale, Macroom, Skibereen and elsewhere in west Cork, whose devotion to Collins has never dimmed, attending in their droves.
These were true blue Fine Gaelers, all making their way to be at the scene as close to the hour when “the Idol of Ireland”, as described by Dalton, died as part of a bitter conflict that went on to claim more than 1,500 lives.
A crowd of more than 500 had gathered and joined in a decade of the rosary as Gaeilge before the Mayor of County Cork, Cllr Danny Collins – no relation but a Collins devotee – spoke of what a great honour it was for him to lay a wreath at the monument on the 100th anniversary of the death of his hero.
“Michael was only 31-years-old when he was shot dead, but he will always be known as Ireland’s most influential statemen,” he said to loud applause. “We saw thousands upon thousands of people here yesterday to salute the man and let him know that he will never be forgotten.”
Cllr Collins then led the crowd in a minute’s silence before a lone bugler, Ger O’Driscoll from Clonakilty, played the Last Post and Reveille. The informal ceremony concluded with O’Driscoll playing Amhran na bhFiann as the Tricolour fluttered over the spot where Collins was fatally wounded.
Admiration
For Helen Collins it was an emotional return to a place that has long had a hold on her family. She spoke of the admiration and regard she has for her granduncle, which was inherited from her grandfather and father.
“As I was listening to The Last Post being played, all I could think of was him coming down that road and never leaving here alive again,” she said. “We always think people will come back and we will see them again, but Michael Collins left Clonakilty and west Cork that evening, never to return.”
But unlike that evening 100 years ago when Collins’ convoy moved quickly to depart the scene, few if any of the crowd seemed anxious to leave on Monday and many stayed to hear local band, The Paddy Boys, launch into Johnny McEvoy’s The Ballad of Michael Collins.
“Candles dripping blood/They placed beside your shoulders/Rosary beads like teardrops on your fingers/Friends and comrades standing by/In their grief they wonder why/Michael, in their hour of need you had to go,” sang vocalist Paul Spillett and the crowd, who seemed to know every word.
