My Experiences with the Irish Section of the Lincolns Volunteers,
The Volunteer, Vol. XXIII, No.3, Sept. 2001, By David Smith
In early February 1937, Dan
Fitzgerald and I left Boston for New
York. We shipped out to Spain on
February 7 with about 80 men. On
February 14 we had dinner at a union
hall in Paris, then traveled by train
over the Pyrenees-the border was
still open-to Figueras. After a few
days of exercise, we went on to
Albacete. On February 24 we were
behind the Morata-Jarama front. We
embarked from the trucks and were
handed rifles and three bullets each to
fire into the hillside-"a well-known
story of our military training."
As the men assembled again, the
captain in charge called out, "The following
step out," and David Smith
was the last name. The captain
explained that we Internationals
were to be part of a rear guard at
Morata. No amount of arguing could
change this decision. The trucks took
off with the other men and I was
assigned to a group of seasoned
British volunteers in the rear guard.
After I griped a great deal, the leader
said, "So you want to get to the front?
Just get out on the road and stop the
next truck." This I did, and I soon
arrived at the front.
As I wandered around, a volunteer
came over, asked a few questions,
and said, "Come with me." I was now
in the Irish section of the Lincolns. By
the next day I was acquainted with
Peter O'Connor and Johnnie Power. I
also found Dan Fitzgerald nearby, also
in the Irish section. We stared at each
other, embraced, and just sat together
speechless for a while.
On February 26 we were told that
there would be a full attack with full
support, tanks, aircraft, etc., that would
take place the next day. On February 27
we were up before daybreak waiting
for orders. Soon we were in bright daylight,
but no tanks, artillery or aircraft
were in sight, and the men began to
gripe. Eventually some said, this will be
a f- operation. Later Peter O'Connor
and Johnnie Power took me aside and
told me in no uncertain language,
"Since you are new, if you want to
come through this operation, just follow
us and do as we do."
When the attack order came
through, we went over the top a short
distance and I did as instructed. Men
were falling all around us. I do not
have to paint a picture of the horrible
sight of men going down in action.
Among those Irish who died were
Robert Hilliard, a Protestant pastor,
and Eamonn McGrotty, a Catholic
priest. Unfortunately, this operation
was not successful in the sense of
driving the fascists back. It was
thought, however, that it showed the
fascists that they couldn't cut the road
behind us to Madrid. Upon returning
to the trenches I sat down numb and
speechless and we just stared at each
other. Later, when more machine guns
arrived, I was transferred as a
machine gunner with the Lincolns. All
the years since Jarama, I have recognized
that I owe my life to the men of
the Irish section.
This spring I was finally able to
visit Ireland with a friend, and in
Dublin I met with Manus O'Riordan,
chief economist of a large union and
son of vet Michael O'Riordan, who is
the author of The Story of the Irish in
Spain. Peter O'Connor died last year.
We visited many monuments, among
them the memorial plaque to the
International Brigade's Connolly
Column at Liberty Hall, the banner of
the Connollys in the Irish Labour
History Museum, and the graves of
Connolly, Pierce, and heroes of the
1915 uprising, and that of Frank Ryan,
the leader of the Irish in Spain. We
spent time with Michael O'Riordan
reminiscing about Spain and saw the
wonderful posters and pictures from
the Spanish Civil War at their labor
hall. It was heartening to realize how
many of the Irish are familiar with the
history of the Irish volunteers and to
be with Manus O'Riordan and his
encyclopedic knowledge of the
International Brigades.
In the evening we joined the family
at a songfest. About 80 men and
women, young and old, sat along
tables with their pints of Guinness,
conversing. Then someone started to
sing an Irish song. No one directed the
fest, but as soon as one song ended,
another individual followed as they
saw fit with songs and poetry recitations
of Irish struggles, revolutionary
songs, romantic songs-both in English
and in Gaelic. This took place from
9:30 to 1:30. We had never experienced
such a gathering. Manus and
his sister, in good voice, sang songs of
the Spanish War. All eyes turned to
us. I am forever grateful for the opportunity
of visiting and reuniting with
such wonderful comrades.