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The lure of leaving for a day or two, the lure of a football match with a new opponent, and the lure of memories to be hatched along the way, cast a magic spell on most of these players. Even Jeremiah Corrigan gave into it. He joined Rory Murphy, Brendan Kelly, his dog and the bairne in one boat, while Wee Sean rowed himself across in another. They met up in Killelea with Father Patrick, O'Hare and other members of their squad, and in spite of either Wee Sean’s or Corrigan’s protests, struck out together. Father Patrick insisted on it.

The old horse pulled the small wagon Wendall and the Lady rode in on. The men took turns, riding along bumpy, unpaved roads, and walking behind the cart. Connor brought his chickens and his father brought several more. Wee Sean discovered another bottle of Scotch whiskey, and brought that along. Michelene rode on Brendan’s shoulders, walked beside either Father Patrick or Brendan and Sprite, or slept in the back of the wagon beside the crates of chickens.

Most of the men in the small group had taken up residence in Naughtonby following their return from the Great War. This was far enough away to insure British invisibility, but close enough to sneak into Killelea via railroad tracks, across planted fields, about loughs, swamps, bogs and clover. Mrs. Keenan, bless her soul, made it on her own to a prearranged point along the way with food, messages and supplies.

As the group traveled the road between Killelea and Nautonby, Brendan thought about his near-brother. Simply, he loved the man as much as he would his own brother. Liam made life more exciting, worth living even. The last time they spent just talking about life, they were traveling along this very same road. They were on their way to Killelea and what they had hoped would be Bridey’s rescue. But that wasn’t to be.

Liam O'Brennigan was a good example of what had set the others along a path that finally liberated their much loved Erin. The British promised the Irish that if during the Great War, they served side by side with the English, the Scottish and the Welsh, that they would enjoy the same freedom as the English, Scottish and Welsh. Liam, Brendan, and many of the others took up the call. They were sent to France as part of His Majesty’s Service, and onto countries like Belgium, Germany, Trans Jordan, and Turkey. While serving in Turkey, Liam snuck up on a machine nest and captured three German soldiers. In his usual way, he proved brave, resourceful and heroic.

They had hoped to return to a country where the Irish could join in governing themselves. Once home, he discovered his wife and parents living in a ramshackle hut in Killelea. The Brits had taken over his island and his land.

Life became harsher still. In wake of the Great War and the Easter Rising of 1916, the British created an arm to the Royal Irish Constabulary called ‘the Black and Tans.‘ The name came because of their uniform. They wore khaki military trousers and the same black shirts worn by the RIC. They met dissension with curfews, martial law and violence.

The Irish responded with gorilla tactics. They knew and used the land to their advantage, and by the grace of God himself, the use of ‘flying columns,’ assassinations and kidnapping, were able to overcome a definite disadvantage caused by a lack of weapons and ordinance.

By May of 1921, the British forces were demoralized with public opinion siding with the Irish. By July the Irish put together a governing body they called the Dail. Eamonn de Valeria was elected President. The British, under Prime Minister Lloyd George, refused to negotiate Irish sovereignty. They were more willing in September when the Irish brought it to their attention again. This time, Michael Collins, known as the Big Fellow, and Arthur Griffith were appointed to negotiate on behalf of the Irish, and were able to secure partial freedom. Michael Collins felt that by allowing the northern six counties to remain under British rule, he had achieved the beginning of Irish independence. Even so, he knew it wouldn’t sit well with the Dail or even the citizens. In fact, de Valeria resigned two days later. Arthur Griffith became president, but his heart gave out before a vote could be called to ratify the treaty. Michael Collins took Griffith’s place, and was responsible for signing the treaty into law. It had barely passed the Dail with a vote of 64 to 57. As Collins signed it, he was reported to have commented that he ’was signing his death warrant.’

Ireland descended into civil war over the treaty, and, another hero, Cathal Braga, died in battle. Brendan couldn’t help but wonder what Liam would have thought of all of this. Would he have been for the treaty or against it? Would he have supported Michael Collins in the end? Or would he have run off with the irregulars in order to shape Erin into his own vision? Hard to tell with Liam. Whatever he chose would have electrified all of County Louth. That, Brendan was sure of.

Half the morning had disappeared by the time they came across remnants of railroad tracks. A while back, some of them had set charges that took out a quarter of a kilometer of track. Of all their foolhardy gestures, it was this one that led to a series of incidents that landed both Bridey and Father Patrick in cells at the dun on Innisfen. Bridey because she refused the British demands to turn over the location of her husband. And Father Patrick, because two days after the explosion here, another blew a boatload of Brit guards into obscurity while crossing the Channel. Patrick had been known to associate with local I.R.A. members, including his own brother, who died in an ambush, and Liam O'Brennigan.

The group paused to examine the area. Sprite sniffed at the wooden crossing. “Should we celebrate our victories?” Brendan asked, “Or should we mourn our errors?”

Father Patrick clicked his tongue and urged the old horse over the battered wooden crossing. Jeremiah Corrigan turned hard eyes up and down the line, taking his time to examine twisted chunks of steel on either side of the crossing and broken ties. Without word, he forced his gaze forward and crossed without looking back. The others exchanged looks and followed the big man’s example.

The whole of them entered the small town of Naughtonby an hour later. A church, a blacksmith, a pub, as well as a stable and a handful of homes lined the road they had walked. Cows, sheep and goats grazed on clover in fallow fields. Brendan and Wee Sean paused to eye up the cows.

Once upon a time they tended cows. And once upon a time the British took over their animals, too. Not only were crops and animals sent off to France during the Great War, but later, the British took the remaining animals as payment for the I.R.A.‘s activities.

“One day,” Wee Sean promised aloud.

“Aye, one day,” Brendan agreed.

Fields of newly planted flax, potatoes, carrots and onions surrounded the small town. Behind each home, sties held pigs.

Farmers greeted the group, holding out their hands, becoming reacquainted and offering a comment or two about the others’ proficiency at the sport. A fire was built of peat in the center of the Village, and jugs appeared almost immediately. Promises of food and shelter were pushed aside until later in the evening. Each time either the subject arose, someone opened another bottle

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