A Final Salute on the Plains of Carrowreagh

A Final Salute on the Plains of Carrowreagh

The sense of being in the presence of something that transcends ordinary reality, like a solemn moment made precious by the knowledge that it will never come again, is very special. I treasure those moments. I’m going to record one such moment because I find myself like a man rummaging through the ruins of the past, trying to make sense of brittle, half-forgotten memories before they are carried away, beyond all understanding, by the winds of time.

I want this to be remembered.

On the 13^th of June 2024, Sam Cryan died. Sam was a Roscommon cattle farmer who lived two townlands over from my own. He and his brother, Dick Cryan (who predeceased him in 2017), were Irish republicans.

During the Troubles, Sam and Dick stashed weapons bought from Muammar Gaddafi by the IRA. When the Gardaí raided their farmhouse, they found Kalashnikov assault rifles, Taurus handguns and Heckler & Kosh rifles hidden in the hay. It was said the two brothers went out into the fields and began eating rushes, feigning madness. They served six to seven years in prison for possession of illegal arms. While they were imprisoned, their neighbours looked after their farm.

The Funeral Mass and burial were held on Monday, the 17th of June 2024. The church and graveyard were just a short walk down my boreen. I decided to attend – not only because it was rumoured there might be a three-volley salute, but also because I didn’t want to miss a republican funeral and a piece of local history.

The Funeral Mass was attended by many old men, mainly farmers, who wore Easter Lilies on their worn blazers. Other men wore Republican Sinn Féin jackets. The coffin was draped with an Irish tricolour. The presiding priest called Sam Cryan a “traditional republican”. He was not our usual priest, who had accusations of Anglophilia laid at his feet after a Mass in which he prayed for the soul of Queen Elizabeth II. During the Mass, the presiding priest quipped, “And thanks to Father X, for telling me what to do and what not to do.”

As the Funeral Mass ended, “The West’s Awake” played as the coffin was walked out of the church. A garda onóra (honour guard), led by a lone bagpiper playing “The Minstrel Boy”, marched with the hearse to the graveyard. The leading member of the garda onóra shouted military orders in Irish under the watchful eyes of an unmarked Garda car.

We all packed into the graveyard. I stood on the hillside, among the high crosses, and listened to the orator speak. He was Tomás Ó Curraoin, a Republican Sinn Féin councillor from Galway who spoke English with an accent coloured by the tones of Ulster. He spoke in clear Conamara Irish about Sam’s republican activities, the proud legacy of Irish Republicanism in North Roscommon, and the cause of the Irish Republic. He also referenced Sam’s involvement with The Border Campaign and his friendship with Ruairí Ó Brádaigh.

Councillor Ó Curraoin called for a federal Ireland united under the Irish tricolour. He spoke about the meaning of the flag and how Protestants are Irish and have a right to be here. He also admitted his own scepticism about being involved in local politics. But he stated a man should be the same man going into and coming out of his political office. He said you must keep your nationalism. He emphasised that England would leave Ireland, as it has left every other quarter of the world, and how it set Irish people against each other, and does so to this day.

I looked around me, at my neighbours, and at the ancient rath by the foot of the graveyard, and the hedged drumlins rolling down into the plains of Connacht, towards Sliabh Bán, and felt a deep appreciation of the moment.

The garda onóra folded the tricolour. A mourner sang “The Ballad of Kevin Barry”. The bagpiper played “The Minstrel Boy” again, followed by “Amhrán na bhFiann.”

Presumably, scattered among the mourners, were Irish republican legitimists. They are bounded by the narrow path of principle. I cannot help but admire their unbroken belief in the continuity of the Irish Republic proclaimed in arms during Easter Week and established by majority vote in 1918. A veritable castle in the sky.

A local character called Seán Grimes composed a ballad in honour of the Cryan brothers. My mother told me my grandfather once sold him a donkey. My father added that he was a seanchaí (traditional story-teller) who regularly came to our house for “The Stations”, a tradition that dates back to the Penal Laws when Catholic Mass was forbidden and secretly celebrated in people’s homes.

I’ll let Seán have the last word.

The Plains of Carrowreagh
by

Sean Grimes
Air: The Garden where the Praties Grow (slowly)

On the 26ᵗʰ January
The year was ‘86
When Maggies’ men, they came along
To do their dirty trick
They came into our parish
At the dawning of the day
And they forced their way into a house
In a place called Carrowreagh

They told the owner to get up
And they were very rough
They said we’re from the special branch
And we hear you got some stuff
Sam Cryan he lay there half awake
And told them to go away
That the only order he would take
Was from the IRA

They then searched around the floorboards
And the ceiling they flushed down
And the presses and the cupboards
They were all tossed around
They got no stuff inside this house
And were going to go away
But the Super said unto his men
“I think we’ll search the hay”

They went into the farmyard
And the bales they tossed around
And wild loud cheers those men let out
‘Twas an armoury they found
There was Libyan guns and Russian guns
And bayonets there that day
An attack was to be mounted on the North
From the Plains of Carrowreagh

Sam and Dick, they were arrested
And both told to sit down
And under heavy escort
They were brought to Carrick Town
They were placed inside the barracks
And questioned for two days
But the Fenian blood was in their veins
And they did not give way

When the forty eight hours was over
They had to let those men out
They didn’t know what to tell them
Of what ‘twas all about
The Superintendent told them
They were free to go their way
And return to their farm house
On the plains of Carrowreagh

When Colonel Gadafi heard the news
He took it very sad
He said “I knew those two Cryan men well
They were two nice decent lads
And when I want some cattle
I will move along their way
And I will land my helicopter
On the plains of Carrowreagh

So now my friends and comrades
It’s time we said goodbye
We’ll drink and toast to Sam and Dick
Where ever they may be
And before you go to bed at night
Oh just kneel down and pray
That the flag of freedom will soon fly
Over the Plains of Carrowreagh