“The general put together a military train,” the First Sergeant said. “An engine and two cars. Troops going on leave. It’s in a siding and waiting for you.” He looked at L.D. and scowled. “Be smart, Sergeant. Stay out of the South. We got enough trouble of our own.”
“Send our thanks to the general,” Major Compton said. “I’ll see that this is reported in detail to the War Department.”
“Just doing our duty, sir — just doing our duty…”
THE BATTLE FOR DUBLIN
“Looks like we have a welcoming committee, General” Colonel Sam Roberts said, leaning out of the train window.
“Not the British, I hope,” General William Tecumseh Sherman said, standing and fastening his sword belt.
“Not quite, sir.”
With a hissing of steam and squealing of brakes the train from Galway slid to a stop in Kingsbridge Station. Through the open window came the sound of massed cheering — growing louder still when Sherman stepped down to the platform. At least a hundred men were waiting on the platform there, each wearing a green ribbon tied around his arm. A large man with a great white beard pushed forward through the crowd and executed what might possibly be called a salute. “Welcome, your honor — welcome to Dublin.” The crowd fell silent, hushed, listening. “We hear only rumors, nothing more. Could you tell us…”
“I am General Sherman of the United States Army. The soldiers on this train landed this morning and seized Galway City. The British troops stationed there are now our prisoners. The invasion and freeing of Ireland has begun. We now plan to do the same here in Dublin. With your aid.”
The silence was fractured by the shouts of joy that rang out from the listening crowd. Some wept with happiness; they pounded each other on the back. The bearded man had to lean forward and shout to be heard.
“The name’s O’Brian, General, the captain of these volunteers.”
“Then I will ask you to get your men inside the station, Mr. O’Brian, so my troops can detrain.”
The soldiers were pouring out of the cars now, spurred on by the sergeants’ shouted commands. Stout planks were being put into place to unload the Gatling guns. Sherman and his staff followed O’Brian to the relative quiet of the Stationmaster’s office. A map of Dublin was spread out on the table. Sherman pointed towards it.
“Do your men know the city?”
“Jayzus and do they not! Every one of them a Jackeen born and bred and they knows dear old dirty Dublin like the backs of their hands.”
“Good. And the horses?”
“We have them, sir, indeed we do! Begged, borrowed or — begging your pardon — stolen. Two livery stables full of them.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And men waiting to take you there.”
Sherman pointed to one of his aides. “Get a platoon and follow the guides.” The officer hurried off as the general turned back to the map. “Now, where is Dublin Castle?” he asked and O’Brian touched a thick finger to it. Then, in turn, he pointed out the barracks in Phoenix Park, the Customs House, the headquarters of the Royal Irish Constabulary. One by one they were singled out and orders issued. This attack had long been planned, with troops allotted to attack the individual strongpoints.
The Battle of Dublin had begun. The Gray and Blue troops poured out of the station, each attacking force led by a green-ribboned volunteer, just as the second train was arriving on the next platform: sweating soldiers manhandled the heavy Gatling guns from the flat cars. In the distance could be heard loud neighing and the clatter of hooves.
“Good God!” a startled officer said. “The Irish cavalry!”
Trotting into the trainyard came the most motley collection of horses ever seen. Most of them were being led, while some of them were being ridden bareback by soldiers fresh from the farms. Every variation on the theme of horse appeared to be present. Heavy cart horses, shaggy little ponies, sturdy hunters — even a wall-eyed mule that was trying to kick out at the strangers — as well as a small group of some tiny donkeys. All of them were quickly pressed into service. Bits of leather straps and lengths of rope were tied together to make crude but workable harnesses. Very quickly they were secured to the Gatling guns, and their ammunition limbers, and followed the troops into battle.
At the various strongpoints around the city there could be heard the rattle of gunfire as the invading troops made their first contacts with the enemy. Sherman, and his staff, remained in the Stationmaster’s office, waiting impatiently for the first reports to come in.
“We are getting resistance here at the barracks — just across the River Liffey from the Wellington Monument,” the staff officer said.
“Gatlings?” Sherman asked.
“On the way now.”
“Any other problems?”
“ Dublin Castle. It was always going to be a center of strong resistance. Heavy cannon — and granite walls. We tried to surprise them but were too late and the gates were shut. We have them surrounded, but our troops are pinned down.”
“Do yo
u have an observation post there yet?”
“Yes, sir. On the roof of Christ Church, right here. Looks right down into the yard.”