Singing "Soldiers are we whose lives are pledged to Ireland," we had withdrawn from St. Stephen's Green into the College of Surgeons. Only one of our men had been killed, yet this was a retreat, and we knew it. If only we had had enough men to take possession of the Shelbourne Hotel, we need not have yielded the Green. As it was, we wasted no time in mourning, but went to work at once to make ourselves ready for a siege that might last no one knew how long.

Under orders from Commandant Mallin, some of the men began to cut through the walls into adjoining buildings. Others went up on the roof to use their rifles against the British soldiers on top of the Shelbourne. Madam went about everywhere, seeking to find anything that could be of use to us. She discovered sixty-seven rifles, with fifteen thousand rounds of cartridges; also bandoliers and haversacks. All this had belonged, no doubt, to the training corps of the College of Surgeons, and would have been used against us had we not reached the building first.

On the ground floor of the big building were lecture-rooms and a museum; up-stairs other class-rooms, laboratories, and the library. On the third floor were the caretaker's rooms and a kitchen where our first-aid and despatch-girls took possession and cooked for the others as long as anything remained to cook. Lastly came the garret up under the roof. To shoot from the roof itself quickly became impossible, since our men were easy targets for the gunners on the Shelbourne. As soon as one of our boys was wounded, we knew they had our range, and decided to cut holes through and directly under the sloping roof. Here we could shoot in perfect safety while remaining unseen.

On Wednesday there was little despatch-bearing to do, so I stood around watching the men up there at work. The countess realized my impatience to be doing my bit, also my hesitation at putting myself forward to ask for permission. Without saying anything to me, she went to Commandant Mallin and told him she thought I could be of use under the roof. He gave his permission at once, and she brought me the answer.

Madam had had a fine uniform of green moleskin made for me. With her usual generosity, she had mine made of better material than her own. It consisted of kneebreeches, belted coat, and puttees. I slipped into this uniform, climbed up astride the rafters, and was assigned a loophole through which to shoot. It was dark there, full of smoke and the din of firing, but it was good to be in action. I could look across the tops of trees and see the British soldiers on the roof of the Shelbourne. I could also hear their shot hailing against the roof and wall of our fortress, for in truth this building was just that. More than once I saw the man I aimed at fall.

BELT BUCKLE

STAMPS ISSUED BY THE IRISH REPUBLIC

To those who have been following the Great War, reading of thousands and hundreds of thousands attacking one another in open battle or in mile-long trench-warfare, this exchange of shots between two buildings across a Dublin green may seem petty. But to us there could be nothing greater. Every shot we fired was a declaration to the world that Ireland, a small country but large in our hearts, was demanding her independence. We knew that all over Dublin, perhaps by this time all over Ireland, other groups like ours were filled with the same intensity, the same determination, to make the Irish Republic, no matter how short-lived, a reality of which history would have to take account. Besides, the longer we could keep our tricolor flying over the College of Surgeons, the greater the chance that Irish courage would respond and we should gain recruits.

Whenever I was called down to carry a despatch, I took off my uniform, put on my gray dress and hat, and went out the side door of the college with my message. As soon as I returned, I slipped back into my uniform and joined the firing-squad.

There were a good many of the Fianna boys in the college with us. As usual, their allegiance to Madam would not let them leave her. One of them, Tommie Keenan of Camden Row, was only twelve years old, but was invaluable. He would go out for food and medicine and, because he was so little, never attracted attention, though he wore his green Fianna shirt under his jacket. On Tuesday he came to the conclusion, perhaps with Madam's aid, that he ought to go home and tell his parents what he was doing. Commandant Mallin advised him, just before he left, to take off his green shirt and not wear it again for a while. It was a day or more before he returned, because his father had locked him in his room. We sympathized with the father, for that was just what we had expected him to do. But when a friend came along who promised to keep guard over Tommy if he was allowed to go for a walk, the boy's chance came. Eluding this friend, he ran the most roundabout way until he arrived where he felt "duty" called him.

The boy already referred to as nearly blind was with us, too. He pleaded so hard to be allowed to use a rifle that the men finally put him at a loophole, where he breathlessly fired shot after shot in the direction of the hotel. Maybe the prayers he murmured gave him success.

Our rations were short, but I do not remember that any one complained. I for one had no appetite for more than a slice of bread or two a day, with a cup of bouillon made from the cubes laid in as part of our necessary ration. The two captured British officers had their meals regularly whether any one else ate or not, and seemed grateful for it.

Every evening fighting would quiet down, and the boys and men—about a hundred, now, through recruits who had joined us—would gather in the largest lecture-hall to sing under the leadership of Jo Connolly, whose brother Sean had fallen the first day in front of Dublin Castle. I can hear them even now:

They were singing this chant, written by the countess and set to some Polish revolutionary air, on Wednesday evening. I was up-stairs, studying a map of our surroundings and trying to find a way by which we could dislodge the soldiers from the roof of the Hotel Shelbourne. When Commandant Mallin came in, I asked him if he would let me go out with one man and try to throw a bomb attached to an eight-second fuse through the hotel window. I knew there was a bow-window on the side farthest from us, which was not likely to be guarded. We could use our bicycles and get away before the bomb exploded,—that is, if we were quick enough. At any rate, it was worth trying, whatever the risk.

Commandant Mallin agreed the plan was a good one, but much too dangerous. I pointed out to him that it had been my speed which had saved me so far from machine-gun fire on the hotel roof. It was not that the British were doing us any real harm in the college, but it was high time to take the aggressive, for success would hearten the men in other "forts" who were not having as safe a time of it. He finally agreed, though not at all willingly, for he did not want to let a woman run this sort of risk. My answer to that argument was that we had the same right to risk our lives as the men; that in the constitution of the Irish Republic, women were on an equality with men. For the first time in history, indeed, a constitution had been written that incorporated the principle of equal suffrage. But the Commandant told me there was another task to be accomplished before the hotel could be bombed. That was to cut off the retreat of a British force which had planted a machine-gun on the flat roof of University Church. It was against our rules to use any church, Protestant or Catholic, in our defense, no matter what advantage that might give us. But this church, close at hand, had been occupied by the British and was cutting us off from another command with whom it was necessary to keep in communication. In order to cut off the retreat of these soldiers, it would be necessary to burn two buildings. I asked the Commandant to let me help in this undertaking. He consented, and gave me four men to help fire one building, while another party went out to fire the other. It meant a great deal to me that he should trust me with this piece of work, and I felt elated. While I changed once more into my uniform, for the work of war can only be done by those who wear its dress, I could still hear them singing: