FERMOY

And our history

So, I am back in my beloved Ahakista in deepest West Cork, and the universe is currently testing my love of this place. Because having spent a very cold and soggy week here in May, I am back and guess what? Yeah, as I write it is not just raining, it is bucketing down with such force that it’s slightly freaking the dog out.

But I will not let the weather beat me. I mean, I understand rain. This is Ireland. But it’s also unseasonably cool (well, cold really) too. One of those days when the temperature is apparently 13 degrees (wow, right?) but the app says it ‘feels like’ 8. Which is another thing I don’t understand… surely the temperature IS WHAT IT BLOODY WELL FEELS LIKE? Temperature is felt, no?

Anyway, here I am. I arrived yesterday and for this trip I have Cosmo (the tank of a lab) with me. The husband will be joining later today for a few days. Normally when travelling here to the Sheep’s Head Peninsula, I try to put as many kilometres behind me as I can, before I stop. I also have a dislike of Motorway service stops – especially those run by Circle K where they only serve shite coffee from machines. I wouldn’t put shite diesel in my car and so I don’t know why Circle K think it’s ok to serve shite coffee to their customers. But they do.

So, one of my favourite places to stop is the pretty village of Innishannon. But with the dog I was conscious of him needing to stretch his legs and have a wee and so stopping at a motorway service area made sense. I would sacrifice good coffee for my doggo. Fermoy is about halfway, so I thought I would stop at the services there.

But as I breezed towards Fermoy, I was having a conversation with one of my ‘overseas’ daughters and so missed the exit and ended driving into Fermoy town itself.

Now Fermoy is a place that is close to my heart, as it is where both of my maternal grandparents came from. Arriving into the town more or less coincided with the realisation that I had forgotten to pack gin… a really silly mistake when one is staying 20km away from the nearest supermarket. There are two lovely pubs here in Ahakista which I will visit, but when I am on my own with with dog, those visits are limited. So gin was not just an optional extra, it is a vital piece of holiday kit.

My Fermoy grandparents - Kathleen Fitzgerald and George Power on their wedding day.

I pulled into Supervalu in Fermoy, bought gin and took the dog up the road in order for him to stretch his legs and have a pee … or twenty!!! As we wandered slowly, we passed an interesting church like building which now houses a motor factors. On the grass verge beside the building, a memorial confirmed what I suspected when I first saw it. This building was formerly the Wesleyan Church and in 1919 it was the site of the first organised action against British forces in Ireland since the Easter Rising of 1916. And my grandfather, George Power was right in the thick of it.

Here is an extract from his Witness Statement recounting the event.

In July of the same year, Lynch (Liam) and I discussed the possibility of attacking and disarming a party of British soldier in Fermoy….. Finally, it was decided to attack a church party of soldiers who went to the Wesleyan Church each Sunday for service….

On Sunday September 7^th, thirty volunteers armed with six revolvers, the remainder having short thick clubs mobilised; also two motor cars were employed to cut off the party from the rear and to remove any captured rifles. I was in charge of one of the cars and Lynch was in charge of the other….. Scouts signalled the approach of the church party. And at a pre- arranged signal the six volunteers proceeded on the footpath in the direction from which the soldiers were coming. The church party was rushed and eighteen rifles captured after a short struggle. The casualties were one British soldier killed and six wounded. Liam Lynch was the only casualty in the volunteers, receiving a flesh wound to his shoulder.

This organised attack on British force was a successful endeavour albeit with the loss of the life of one British soldier. But this attack outside the Wesleyan Church also set off a series of events. On the following night, the British Army looted and smashed up a large part of the town in reprisal.

The volunteers involved obviously went on the run, my grandfather among them. He was captured some months later while visiting his parents house in the town but managed to escape by asking to use the bathroom and escaping through an upstairs window.

Another volunteer Michael Fitzgerald who was Officer Commanding the battalion was also captured and imprisoned in Cork jail where he went on hunger strike. In order to force the British to release him, the same unit of the IRA captured a British general while fishing on the banks of the River Blackwater. You can read about that story in which my grandfather also played a part here. The British didn’t release Fitzgerald and he died 67 days into his hunger strike.

It was very moving to find myself accidentally in the place where this attack took place and in which my grandfather played a pivotal role 107 years ago. The British Garrison was established in the early 1800s and it went on to become the largest British military establishment in the country. So perhaps it is not surprising that Fermoy was also a hotbed of resistance during the War of Independence, although at some cost to the local population.

So, my fondness for Fermoy is not just because of my family connection but also because of the bravery of the town and it’s people in supporting the men and women who won our country it’s freedom.