It is one of the most eye-catching monuments in the Irish uplands.
Located on Crohan Hill in the Knockmealdown Mountains, it consists of an impressive 20-metre-high round tower that evocates Ireland’s early Christian period. Guarded by four bronze wolfhounds, it has been a familiar sight to generations of ramblers, since it is located on both the East Munster Way and St Declan’s Way.
Those who chance this way will mostly be aware that it is a memorial to Liam Lynch, who died here during the time we euphemistically refer to as 'the troubles'. Few will however know the story behind the monument and how Lynch came to die here.
Almost exactly a century ago, Larry Clancy was a Free State army officer based at Clogheen, Co. Tipperary, during the Civil War. On April 10, he was leading a detachment of troops toward the Knockmealdown Mountains, where Republican (anti-treaty) commanders were believed to have congregated. Suddenly, his troops were fired upon.
Ahead, he saw a group of men about 400 yards away who were “daringly standing on rocks while wearing black overcoats and hats, and firing. We fired off five rounds and I saw them jumping off the rocks,” remembered Clancy.
“I saw them running down the hill towards the skyline. I then observed a man fall forward and remain there. When we got to where the man was lying, I asked ‘Who are you?’ and the man answered, ‘I’m Liam Lynch, get me a priest and a doctor'.”
During the early part of 1923, the position had become increasingly desperate for anti-treaty forces fighting the Civil War and for Liam Lynch, the Irish Republican Army commander. A hero of the War of Independence, but now fighting vainly against superior forces, he was under increasing pressure to call a ceasefire. To discuss the options, it was agreed to convene a meeting of the Republican Executive on April 10.
Moving between safe houses, Lynch, along with other Republican leaders, arrived at Goatenbridge, beneath the Knockmealdown Mountains on April 9. Movements by Free State soldiers meant they could not long remain in the village. They assembled instead at the mountainside Houlihan farmhouse and were having breakfast the next morning when a sentry spotted soldiers heading directly for them.
To escape, Lynch and his companions rushed up a deep stream bed towards Crohan Mountain. As one ascends a mountain, the soil generally becomes thinner; a stream running along the bedrock will be just below the surface and provide little cover. And so it was that Lynch and his companions became vulnerable to gunfire; when the stream they had followed rose out of its ravine.
It was here the first shots were exchanged. A later description from one of Lynch’s companions and future Minister for External Affairs, Frank Aiken, gives a clear indication of the terrain: “The fight took place on a mountain as bare as a billiard table.”
The Republicans had progressed about 1km from the Houlihan farmhouse when a single shot rang out; Lynch fell forward while crying, “My God! I’m hit, lads!” Two members of his party, Bill Quirke and Sean Hyde, began dragging their stricken leader uphill. Several times, Lynch begged his companions to leave him until they saw the futility of what they were attempting and made their escape across the mountain.
Lynch was a bitter and deadly opponent of those who accepted the Treaty with Britain, and had just recently described the Free State Government as a junta. Despite this, the soldiers made every effort to save the badly wounded Lynch. Laboriously, they carried their former comrade on the long, slow journey down the mountainside. He was then taken to Nugent’s Pub in Newcastle village, where he was laid on a sofa and given medical treatment.
In a later statement, Clancy describes how he told Lynch he had lost two brothers in the War of Independence. Lynch then grasped his hand and spoke with difficulty, saying, “God pray for me. All this is a pity. It should never have happened. I am glad now I am going from it all. Poor Ireland. Poor Ireland.”
In a bitter-sweet moment, he then presented Clancy with his silver pen as a poignant symbol of respect for the erstwhile comrade from the War of Independence. Soon after, he was transferred to Clonmel Hospital, where he succumbed to his wounds, with his death marking the effective end of hostilities.
Liam Lynch was unlucky. Similar to Free State Army commander Michael Collins, he died from a single shot from a distance when survival seemed more probable. He passed away when republicanism was at its lowest ebb, with little apparent future.
Yet, within 10 years, Éamon de Valera would lead many of Lynch’s comrades into the government of the Irish Free State. Had he survived, would Lynch have been among them?
No one will ever know if his radical outlook would have allowed him to join the government of a partitioned Ireland, as did his companion Frank Aiken. His leadership skills were such, however, that it is difficult to imagine he would not have made some important contribution to the fledgling nation.
- A fuller account of Liam Lynch's life is contained in by John G O'Dwyer, which is published by Currach Books