- 01 Apr 16
The memory of those momentous events has inspired us to think again about the idea of the Republic, and what it means. But it is the future that really counts – not the past.
On that fateful day, what was it like to be a child? A partner? A farmer? A racegoer headed for Fairyhouse? What was it like to be a volunteer? Just an ordinary citizen going on manoeuvres?
To scramble out of bed not knowing what the day would bring? Glory? Blood, sweat and tears? Death? Martyrdom? The end...
Picture it. Hear it. Smell it. You rise early, nervous. There’s fear and foreboding, perhaps. Excitement too. Cold water, hard soap. A slice of toast, or porridge maybe, and a cup of strong tea. Where’s your jacket? Trousers? Bandolier? Throat choking. Baffled children. A stammered farewell. Who knows when? Take care! Yes, yes. We meet at 10. And then what?