The winter and early months of 1643 had seen the conflict devolve into the typical low level attrition battles that characterised Irish warfare for so much of the islands history. Cattle raids, attacks on farms and the targeting of civilians, all in an effort to damage the enemies supply lines and resources, was the way the war was fought, as both sides waited for the weather to improve so that actual armies could take to the roads again.

The English side had further problems. Charles, fighting a difficult struggle in England, was already starting to look across the sea to Ireland, and the scores of Irishmen in Confederate armies insisting they were still loyal to him, with some desire. Manpower was going to be a very serious issue in the Civil Wars, and as time went on the English King became more and more open to the idea of a negotiation with the rebel leadership, so that he could add their substantial forces to his own.

The English side in Ireland was already riven with discord. They had managed to work together, to a point, so far in the conflict, but there was no united front in Dublin. Most of the Pale administration of the day seemed to side with the Parliamentarians in the conflict that was engulfing their homeland, but there were still plenty of royalists, chief among them being James Butler, the Earl of Ormonde. Despite attempts by leading Parliamentarians in Dublin to supplant his position, Ormonde remained at the head of the army that Spring, a position given to him by Charles, by far the most notable and powerful of the Irish royalists.

Some action was required though, lest he lose his position through claims of incompetence and dallying with the enemy. There were already suspicions that Charles was seeking a rapprochement with the Confederates, and the lack of funding being sent was damaging Dublin’s ability to recruit an army and keep it in place. Before a disintegration occurred, Dublin would have been hoping that the Confederates could be defeated outright, especially in their heartland of Leinster.

The coming campaign would be the first real test for Thomas Preston, the veteran of Spanish service who had been appointed by the Kilkenny Confederate government as the regional commander in Leinster. He had spent his time since the Kilkenny meeting recruiting and training the various militias in Leinster into a proper army, and then using them in a limited fashion, seizing several small castles and other strongholds in the midlands in an attempt to draw James Butler and his army out, so that he could engage them on favourable terms. These limited campaigns brought success, not least the capture of Birr in January 1643, as small garrisons were typically overwhelmed by the deployment of artillery.

There was plenty of reason for James to take the bait.  A sharp thrust into south Leinster, where so many rebel bases were located, could have a great effect for the overall war effort. Kilkenny could be threatened, further coastal areas secured, Confederate privateers strangled in their operations, Dublin further protected from the possibility of a Confederate attack. There were plenty of supplies to be found in the area that could be used to feed the English armies, and a campaign could help deflect the rising tide of desertion. But more than that, Butler would have wanted a direct engagement with Preston’s force, so that his better trained, more experienced troops would have a chance to destroy the Confederate presence in Leinster directly.

Leaving Dublin with his army in the early days of March, Ormonde decided to make a march towards the port town of New Ross, located at the mouth of the Barrow River, a major trading post whose capture would severely damage rebel supply lines in both Wexford and Waterford. His army was substantial enough, with 3’000 infantry, several hundred cavalry, and a well sized artillery train. Upon his march, Preston rapidly started to assemble the militias into a single cohesive force, fearful of the damage Ormonde would be capable of doing.

After a number of small skirmishes typical of the era, the first major stop for Ormonde was the town of Timolin in south Kildare, whose small castle was defended by a minuscule force of rebels. Facing an artillery barrage, they could not hope to hold out, and when they surrendered it is reported that they were all butchered. But they managed to hold up Ormonde and his army for a time, allowing better defences to be thrown up around New Ross, and for more men to be sent to its defence by the Supreme Council of the Confederates and Preston.

Ormonde pressed on as soon as he could, coming to the outskirts of his objective, which the Confederates had known must have been his target, on the 11^th of March. One source alleges that the vanguard of the English army arrived to see the gates open, having been mistaken for Preston’s troops, but lacked the manpower to seize and hold them until the rest of the force came up. It is possible that this event is a fabrication by witnesses bent on portraying Ormonde in as bad a light as they could, since it seems so unlikely.

Having had a call for surrender refused, Ormonde commenced a barrage of the towns meagre defences, which consisted of little more than some basic walls and an earth rampart. Breaches were made and assaults ordered, but the English, facing a force that seems to have been a mix of Preston’s militia and the New Ross townspeople, were held off. Due to the unique geographical position of New Ross over the River Barrow, Ormonde was unable to invest the town completely, and so Confederate reinforcements were able to trickle in to aid in the defence. As well as that, the weather turned miserable, with constant rainfall weighing down on English morale and gunpowder supplies. Further, Ormonde lacked sufficient gear for siege work, such as ladders of the required length, and promises by the Dublin government to keep him supplied by sea were not kept, possibly from a desire to see Ormonde discredited and stripped of his position.

Ormonde received a strange boon during the next stage, when two English ships laid anchor close by the town and opened fire with their own cannon. A disaster appeared to have occurred when the townsfolk of New Ross, using some light artillery pieces, managed to hit and damage the ships shortly after their arrival, to the extent that they had to be abandoned. But most of the crew survived and were absorbed into Ormonde’s army, with sections of them proving to be of critical importance in the days ahead.

After six days, Ormonde’s position was becoming untenable. A quick assault of the town had not worked out, the absence of the supplies damaged the upkeep process of his army even more and then he heard word that Preston and his lieutenants had organised their own army and were close by, stationed at the town of Old Ross. Unwilling to be caught between the Leinster Army and the defences of New Ross and already suffering from some raids, Ormonde withdrew, choosing to cut his losses and head back to Dublin rather than risk an engagement with a numerically superior foe in his condition.

Preston could have simply let Ormonde pass unmolested and have claimed a victory of sorts. The English would have failed to take the objective of the campaign, would have lost more men than the rebels throughout, and would only have reduced their overall stockpiles of food and powder for no gain. Ormonde’s return to Dublin without a victory would have exacerbated the conflict there, leaving the English even more riven. At least one of Ormonde’s lieutenants, writing afterwards, indicating that a simple harassment of the retreating army could have paid huge dividends, as the English had barely enough supplies to last four days.

But Preston could not pass up the opportunity that he was presented with, nor perhaps, forget the dead at Timolin. Ormonde’s route back to Dublin went more or less the same way he had come, but on the advice of some local sympathisers, he decided to change his route as he came close to the town of Old Ross, doubling back to seek an easier road. On the 18^th March, this led him right into the path of Preston’s advancing army, a few miles north of Old Ross, near the village of Ballinvegga. The English were somewhat surprised by the sudden appearance of Preston’s army to the right of their marching route, but were able to march on to a better spot than the hilly area where they first caught sight of the Leinster army, whereby Ormonde ordered his men to turn and prepare for battle. Preston now blocked Ormonde’s intended route, so a battle was inevitable, but for whatever reason the Irish commander hesitated to attack upon first sighting the enemy army. Perhaps he just wasn’t ready, and was unable to compensate for what may have been an unexpected turn of movement from Ormonde, but the delay was crucial.

Ormonde was able to set his force up on a hill west of Ballinvegga, facing Preston’s army to the north, across the small river of Aughennacrew. It was little more than a stream, but the nearest fording point was narrow enough. Some English witnesses claim that Preston had brought over 10’000 men with him, but this is probably an exaggeration. Ormonde was outnumbered, but it was more likely a difference of around two to one, with the Irish numbering around 6’000, including cavalry and some small amount of artillery.

Ormonde, noticing a small rise in between the two armies, knew that the seizure of this small bit of high ground would be critical, and ordered his chief lieutenant, Sir Francis Willoughby (possibly a relation of the Willoughby who held the Forthill position in Galway) to move forward a detachment of troops in take it. Willoughby saw the possibility of using the hill as a point from which to bombard the approaching Confederates with cannon, and sent forward a unit of musketeers to hold the hill long enough for this to be arranged. Even with the river, only a short distance separated the two armies, and soon musketeers from both sides were engaging in a gun fight, though casualties were limited. The exchange accomplished what Ormonde and Willoughby wanted though, preventing the Irish from committing to an attack that could easily have ruined the English battle plan.

The artillery, two large culverins and four smaller pieces, were brought into place and situated all along the brow of the hill. The gunners from the two English ships defeated outside New Ross were, apparently, instrumental in their correct transport, maintenance and use throughout the battle, an advantage in experienced artillerymen that the Irish did not share. Willoughby also moved up a larger group of infantry to the centre of the hill, with cavalry on either flank.

By now a combined regiment of infantry and cavalry from the Irish side had crossed the river at the fording point, and were lining up on a small laneway leading from there to attack. The cavalry went first, seeking a quick and brutal charge that would send the English infantry scattering. Before they could make it up the hill to complete that objective, the order was given from the artillery to open fire. The attack was merciless, and the advancing cavalry was shell-shocked by the sudden salvo. Those that survived the blasts retreated pell-mell, riding straight through their own infantry that had been advancing behind them.

The English had survived the first attack, but soon Preston was sending more of his army across the river. Another cavalry charge was aimed at the centre of the English lines, with the objective of seizing the English guns, which were now pouring fire down on the rest of the Irish army. The cavalry on the English right swept in to block this attack, and soon the battle was one almost exclusively of horsemen, engaged hand to hand on the field between the English position and the river.

Willoughby was unsure what to do, with Ormonde in command well behind him. The English were outnumbered still, and if the Irish cavalry won out, their position would be fatally undermined. Trusting in the experience of his men over that of the Irish, he committed to a general attack with the forces under his personal command. He moved his infantry and what was left of his cavalry forward in formation, with the cannon firing non-stop.

The effect was electric. The Irish infantry that had already crossed the river were unable to bear the fire coming from both the artillery and the advancing infantry, and soon broke, fleeing back across the ford wholesale. Soon, what was left of the Irish cavalry was obliged to retreat as well. As Willoughby crossed the ford, the rest of Preston’s army, fearing a slaughter, broke as well, with only a small number of regiments attempting to hold their ground for any amount of time. Preston’s men fled across the Barrow to safety, destroying bridges behind them as they went. They need not have worried too much, as Ormonde’s undersupplied army, with its disadvantage in the amount of cavalry it was fielding, was not in a position to engage in the kind of pursuit that would have seriously damaged Preston’s army.

It was a victory for Ormonde, but it is important not to overstate the results. The casualties inflicted on Preston were not especially large – one English witness claims that the Irish dead numbered little more than 200. The rest of the army was able to escape unharmed. Much like the defeat of the Confederate Munster army at Liscarroll, the survivors would be able to reform and learn from their experience, though that was probably little comfort at the time, as Irish indiscipline yet again resulted in a rout.

Ormonde, as short on supplies as he had been at the start of the battle, headed home, happy to have defeated the enemy and to have an unharrassed trip back to the capital. The reaction to the victory was mixed, with plenty of recriminations from those more allied to the Parliament who had no desire to see Ormonde credited with anything. Accusations were thrown of commanders being overly-cautious, about the failure to take New Ross, and the inability to actually destroy the Leinster Army of the Confederates. Such were the divisions in Dublin at the time.

Preston, for his part, had managed to keep his army intact, but his prestige was badly damaged, any aura of him being some kind of returning saviour, banished forever. He would retain his command and fight more battles, but in his first major engagement as commander of the Leinster Army, Preston and his troops had come up short.

I’ve noticed that there is some small dispute about what this battle is called. It shouldn’t really be the “Battle of New Ross” as it is usually called, because it took place closer to Old Ross anyway and it also clashes with a more famous battle of the 1798 rebellion. Sometimes it’s just the “Battle of Ross”, but that’s not really accurate either. I’ve seen “Battle of Ballinvegga” used, but Ballinvegga, as a village, has long since ceased to exist, being little more than a townland now, so the name is rather confusing for modern researchers. I’ll stick with “New Ross” since that is what history has come to call the clash, rightly or wrongly, but it’s important to note the discrepancies that often pop up with it comes to the labelling of historical clashes, especially in a place as chockablock with small settlements as Ireland.

To read the rest of the entries in this series, click here to go to the index.

Elsewhere, St Pats great form of late leaves them top, but the defeat to Dundalk tonight, overshadowed by some form of trouble in the stands leaves things pretty well-placed for the neutral as we look forward to the return of the LOI at the end of the month. Considering the topsy turvy way things have gone this year – like Sligo’s immense winning streak at the start of the season turning into being four points adrift at this point – there is plenty left to play for. I take special not of Shelbourne’s wholly unexpected away win at Bohemians, the kind of perception altering result that could wind up doing an immense amount for Shels’ morale and psyche, while further dragging down the Gypsies.

Down south, way down south, the British and Irish Lions are taking part in their traditional tour of the southern hemisphere, to culminate in a three game “test” series against Australia.

It is, maybe, because I am no big supporter of rugby union that I do not “get” the Lions. The team has its origins in a completely different era – when the associations of the British Isles combined forces to help deal with the cost of tours to South Africa, Australia and New Zealand – and for me, lacks any sort of attraction. I can watch Ireland and Munster play with a degree of attachment, but the Lions are a mishmash of nationalities and allegiances, playing in what is, in the grand scheme of international rugby, little more than a group of friendlies with a higher chance of injury for everyone involved.

It doesn’t help that the Lions’ games in the run-up to the real thing amount to little more than a series of blowouts against Australian club teams that field reserves and seem to operate as little more then 15 man injury causing obstacles for the Lions. The amount of withdrawals from the squad is truly eye-raising, and I wonder how much that would be tolerated in another sport.

The actual test games will be much more enjoyable to watch I suppose, but when you compare that to something like the Confederations Cup, currently being played in the realm of association football, for me there is no contest. The Lions seems very much ;like a sop to the traditions of Rugby, one that the British and Irish team has little chance of actually winning outright and which seems to falter a little bit more every year as the club game gains greater and greater prominence on both sides of the equator.

Speaking of the Confederations Cup, tiny little Tahiti take to the world stage for the first time ever today, taking on Nigeria before later playing (gulp) Spain and Uruguay. I read interviews today from the Tahiti manager expressing dread for what is about to happen to his side, as their pre-tournament preparation involved losing 7-0 to a Chilean U-20 team. Now they’re going up against the World and European Champions, the African Champions and one of the best teams in South America.

I don’t really have too much sympathy though. Participation in the Confederations Cup is not a mandatory thing (Germany have withdrawn from it twice, as have France), so if Tahiti don’t want to be humiliated, they don’t have to be. They have a right to compete in the tournament as the winners of the Oceania Confederations national trophy, and I would never begrudge their players the chance to play on such a stage, but when they lose, and lose hard, we shouldn’t rush to pat them on the back. Tahiti won’t really learn much from the coming experience, any more than Nigeria, Spain or Uruguay will benefit much from what is, essentially, the equivalent of Manchester United playing a Sunday League pub team. Amateurs can’t compete on this level, and they know that. Oceania is the whipping boy of the FIFA world, and there is no team from there that could replace Tahiti and actually compete to a much higher level, but that doesn’t mean we have to praise them to high heaven.

I don’t mean to overly criticise Tahiti, or even to tell them that they should go home. I’m just saying that a blowout isn’t entertaining to watch, or in any way helpful to either team competing.

The negativity I have seen in some places regarding this trailer surprises me, as did the generally lukewarm reaction to An Unexpected Journey from nearly all quarters. I’ve spent some time considering that, wondering whether I’m seeing something that is not there, or if I somehow have found myself at the centre of a conspiracy.

I deem neither of those two possibilities to be completely correct. I was open in my An Unexpected Journey review about my love for Tolkien, but I maintain that only makes me more likely to be critical. In the end, I enjoyed An Unexpected Journey enough to place it at the top of all movies I saw last year – ahead of The Dark Knight Rises, The Avengers and even Argo, just. I stick to that opinion. It probably helps that I avoided the 3D showings like the plague of course.

So, anyway, the trailer. It’s fairly standard stuff overall. It doesn’t actually show much of a plot per say, just looks at various action sequences, a few of the more important lines, some of what I would presume are the “stand-out” moments, and that typically grand final shot. This is all about attraction, and a more in-depth trailer (or two) will come later. If you hadn’t seen An Unexpected Journey and hadn’t read The Hobbit, you would come away from this trailer thinking that it was a movie about midgets trying to kill a dragon, without any idea as to why exactly. That isn’t so much of a criticism as it is an observation about the nature of modern trailers.

Much talk has been about the visuals, a lot of which seems to be just an extension of the same talking points for An Unexpected Journey. I’ve never personally seen anything in much of these criticisms.

Having avoided 3D (For the record, I consider 3D to be an overblown option in movies, with very little attraction), I avoided much of the visual criticisms, and in the actual 2D showing, only the Goblin-town sequence really stood out to me as a CGI moment that needed more work.

It’s pretty much more of the same here. Jackson has clearly chosen to rely more on CGI work for his Hobbit trilogy than he did for The Lord of the Rings, but I would argue firstly that it fits with the more child-friendly nature of the source material, and secondly that if anyone can pull a project like this off, its Jackson and WETA. The vast majority of the visual effects shown off in the trailer look not only fine to me, but to the standard that WETA has set.

The gigantic, unavoidable exception to that is the dragon. I count myself as one of many surprised to see Smaug make an appearance in a trailer. I figured he would be another Gollum, an effect to be hinted at and seen half-formed, before being fully revealed only in the movie itself.

Instead, whoever made the call – it might not necessarily be Jackson, since directors frequently get little input into the creation of trailers – decided it would be a good idea to put Smaug’s head in as the big ending moment of this first trailer.

And oh boy, is he looking all kinds of not awesome. The effect looks rigid and plastic, very fake. The crooked jawline, the lack of depth in the effect, it all screams out. I cannot imagine something as structured and inanimate as that head and jaw speaking. I certainly couldn’t imagine it speaking in the kind of voice that fans have come to expect Smaug to have. It looks too mechanical, too T-Rex from Jurassic Park-ish. Throw in the fact that the rest of the scene, with Bilbo standing just to the right (visible for some reason) looks like a matte painting in comparison, and you have a trailer that falls completely flat at its conclusion.

I would expect (and fervently hope) that this is an unfinished effect, and not representative of the actual fully formed dragon we will see when The Desolation of Smaug. Even the tiny glimpse of Smaug’s face we saw at the conclusion of An Unexpected Journey is head and shoulders above that head as a visual effect. Work to be done there.

Now that the main talking point is out of the way, what about “Tauriel”? Naturally, the hardcore devotees, a section of them anyway, of everything Tolkien are crying foul about the inclusion of this, wholly invented by Jackson, character. More than that, she’s a potential love interest for Legolas, which doesn’t sit well for some reason, and she appears to be acting just like him.

I am extremely hostile to most of these viewpoints. My own opinion is that adaptation is an art in itself, and part of the whole attraction of filmed versions of classic literature is seeing how a director and his/her production team will transform one engrossing form of media into another, and still maintain its virtues in the new format.

If you want a page for page for page adaption of The Hobbit, with every last bit of written dialogue included and nothing new ventured, stay at home and imagine it in your head, because such an idea is completely pointless. I do not want to see another Watchmen on screen, where simply replicating the source material resulted in something soulless. I want to see Peter Jackson’ interpretation. I want to see what he can do with that material ,and yes, I want to see what he can add, cut or change in order to try and make the experience better.

Also, if you think a production company should make a billion dollar movie trilogy and have no women in it (because there are no, in a very literal sense, female characters in The Hobbit at all, Tolkien was as sexist as his times), in this day and age, you are simply bonkers.

Let’s see what Tauriel gets up to. I doubt we’ll see a love-angle (though, that is something The Hobbit is missing as well) but she could prove to be a very interesting character, someone to match the efforts that Liv Tyler  put into making Arwen more than just a placeholder. Evangeline Lilly is a good actress after all. I suppose this all comes down to a simple plea of “Give it a chance”

What else is there? It appears “Barrels out of Bond” is being turned into an action sequence featuring the Mirkwood Elves and Azog’s Orcs. I’m already on record as stating my love for what they’ve done with Azog, so I have no problem with him being there. “Barrels” is the kind of chapter that presents some difficulties, first because it is somewhat comedic, and secondly because its rather dull. It’s actually one of my least favourite parts of the story, since its one of the most pedestrian escapes from a dungeon ever. Here, it seems that Jackson’s trying to do something a bit more with it.

I would go as far as to say that The Desolation of Smaug will be three distinct sections worth of plot, each with its own structure and three act tone, matching the episodic nature of the source material and An Unexpected Journey. It’ll be:

1.1   The company meets Beorn and sets up for the trek through Mirkwood.

1.2   The company’s journey through Mirkwood and their increasing desperation there.

1.3   The combat with the spiders.

2.1 The company is captured by the Elves and interrogated by Thranduil

2.2 Bilbo tries to orchestrate an escape attempt, Azog tracks the company down, Tauriel is expanded upon.

2.3 The escape from the Elven Kingdom and combat with Azog.

3.1 The company journey to Laketown and earn the enmity of (some of) its inhabitants for their plan.

3.2 The company goes to the mountain, Bilbo meets Smaug.

3.3 The battle over Lake-town and the death of Smaug.

And you’ve got Gandalf’s adventure in Dol Guldur to slot in there somewhere too, I’m guessing in sections 1.2 and 2.2.

That’s actually as huge amount to get through (and torpedoes the oft repeated, but completely groundless, claim that these movies don’t have the legs for three instalments) and I’d worry about things like time for characterisation, overuse of CGI and general overkill with action as much as anyone.

For fear of going too far, I’ll just sum up the rest of thoughts quickly:

-One of my favourite parts of The Hobbit was the short bit where Bilbo climbs above the dark depths of Mirkwood, and I got a thrill seeing a brief glimpse of it here.

-Looks like Bard will be a little more antagonistic towards the company than he was in the books, which is fine. Tolkien didn’t give him a lot of depth, so I’m happy to see him get more screentime.

-Radagast returns, presumably for more comedy stuff. Hard to see that mixing with the Dol Guldur stuff though.

-Looks like Thranduil is Celeborn 2.0, with a voice that seems very unnecessarily creepy.

-While I maintain that the fault is Tolkien’s, the lack of lines for the dwarves is evidence of a continued lack of focus on any of them.

Naturally, I’m going to be seeing The Desolation of Smaug regardless of any trailer, good or bad. But I certainly feel that a wave of people trying to trash the movie six months before it comes out are being unfair. I’ll admit that irritates me somewhat, but it won’t affect what I would expect to be my enjoyment of the movie.

There was also the halt on troops coming from England, and the movement of soldiers in the opposite direction due to what we now call the First English Civil War. The opening battles had taken place, with Charles’ royalist side strong in the north and west of the country and Parliament holding the south. The opening exchanges were largely indecisive and left neither side with an obvious advantage, though Charles’ failure to take London after the Battle of Edgehill would prove extremely important.

In Ireland, after a year of unexpected turmoil, violence and widescale destruction, both sides took a breath. The new Confederacy was still finding its feet, and it would not be until the spring of 1643 that major combat operations resumed. The intervening time was taken up with recruitment and training.

The next major combat began back in Galway and will be the focus of this entry. Timelines for different entries will begin to merge with each other as we move forward, as the war maintained its pattern of really being several different campaigns being fought at the same time in different areas.

When we last left Galway, a very precarious balance had been found between the Confederate supporting townsfolk of Galway itself, and the Parliamentarian soldiers of the Forthill position. It is important to remember how close this conflict was: Forthill was literally just outside the city borders, a stone’s throw distance from Galway town itself, as illustrated by this 1651 engraving (Forthill is the square walled structure on the upper right peninsula). A dispute between the parties that held Galway and Forthill was not something that could be ignored, the opposing sides were simply too close to each other.

Throughout the latter half of 1642 and the early weeks of 1643 the peace that Ulick Burke, the Earl of Clanricarde, had helped to found between town and fort had held, barely. Both sides detested each other, and had little faith in the others ability to hold to the terms. A resurgence of fighting was inevitable, it was a simply a matter of who would strike first. As before, Dublin was more concerned with things closer to home, so the war in Galway was an isolated thing. Ulick Burke rowing in on the rebel side could well have swung the situation decisively in favour of the Confederacy, but despite their hopes, this was not to be.

Instead, the Confederacy had appointed John Burke, a Mayo born soldier who, like Owen Roe O’Neill and Thomas Preston, had spent most of his life fighting abroad in the service of Spain, though he seems to have had a less illustrious and well-known career as the other two. His position was not enviable really: the Confederacy was probably the least organised in Connacht and the only really critical fighting was taking place in and around Galway. Burke’s objective was clearly to secure the town from the English, whatever their particular allegiance, but he also aimed to completely eliminate the enemy presence if he could.

Having taken command and situated himself in Galway in February 1643, Burke first tried to keep the status quo going, even trying to extend the truce agreement so that commerce could open back up between Galway and the fort. Burke’s personal forces were probably pretty meagre, and with Ulick Burke (it is not clear if they were related, there were a lot of Burke families in Connacht) likely to stop any serious offensive move, he was probably unwilling to launch any kind of siege or assault.

But the refusal of Willoughby, the commander of Forthill, to make any sort of agreement with Burke angered him. When one of his officers was able to successfully capture the castle at Claregalway, ten km north of Galway town, through subterfuge and internal help, Burke was further buoyed. Claregalway was a strong enough position, formerly belonging to Ulick, and could provide defence from any action taken by the Earl.

Thus encouraged, Burke struck. He called upon the sympathetic nobles of the countryside to provide troops, which many did, and placing himself at their head, invested Forthill as best he could. His “army” had to be reduced in order to prevent possible intervention by Ulick Burke, with garrisons stationed at Claregalway and Athenry, so he probably had little more than a thousand men at Forthill.

This siege was just another feed fight as before. Lacking the numbers, equipment or expertise to assault the fort, Burke had no choice but to try and starve the defenders out. Willougby, for his turn, lacked enough men to attempt to beat off the attackers, and was reliant on support from elsewhere.

The effort to take Forthill then was just a war of supply and attrition. The residents of Galway did their utmost to keep the rebel army supplied and in position as spring wore on and turned to Summer. Food and money was provided, a boom was laid across Galway harbour to prevent ships from landing and every effort was taken to distract and hassle the Lord Clanricarde. Ulick was actually somewhat paralysed, having expended a small fortune in his previous campaigns in the region, lacking the means to raise the same kind of army with which to relieve Forthill a second time. Willoughby attempted a few sorties to try and grab supplies from Galway, but they were intercepted and sent back without reward.

In June, Willougby and his men were getting desperate, running out of food and with seemingly no chance of Ulick’s intervention. That month a ship called the Providence attempted a resupply of the fort, but was unable to dock close to Forthill due to the boom and to two battery positions that Burke had been able to raise and supply with limited artillery. When long boats were sent to try and force a way through, they were engaged by others from the town. After a short fight, they were obliged to retreat.

After nearly four months of siege, Willoughby was nearly out of options. He attempted to subvert the Confederates designs by trying to arrange his surrender of the fort into the hands of Ulick Burke, but the rebel commander refused to continence this, as Ulick consistently rejected attempts to get him to join the rebel side. With this last, desperate ploy defeated, Willoughby had no choice left. On the 20^th of June, he surrendered, on terms, to John Burke and the position of Forthill passed to the Confederates.

The time was somewhat fortunate: the very next day apparently, more ships arrived to attempt a resupply, but they were too late. Willoughby and his remaining men were permitted leave to board the ships and sail to friendlier shores. On the orders of the new Confederate government, the Forthill structure was destroyed, though it would be rebuilt later.

The victory there was another rebel success at siegework, after the fall of Limerick the previous year. While it is important not to overestimate the effort required to secure the Forthill position, considering the large amount of weaknesses that Willoughby’s position had, the strategic effect was fairly important. Galway, its population and trade, was brought into the Confederate fold decisively, one of the only major urban coastal centres to be so treated. The biggest English threat west of the Shannon was removed. Ulick Burke, his loyalties still in question, was left neutered and ineffective by the proceedings. The rebels had mostly free reign throughout Connacht, which they would use as a fertile ground for recruitment and defence.

Burke’s career as a regional commander was off to a great success. He successfully utilised the forces he held and the allies he had by limiting his offensive activities to a simple siege and blockade, letting hunger do the actual fighting for him. He recognised their limitations and did nothing too adventurous or risky. He took his opportunities, like with Claregalway, when they came, and was able to improve his overall strategic position immeasurably while doing so. Thanks to him, the rebel leadership could be rest assured that, in at least one theatre of the war, things were going decidedly in their favour.

Galway town was secured for the Confederates. Known of them could have known it at the time, but nine years later, it would be the last major position that they held, and its fall would be the death knell of the rebellion.

To read the rest of the entries in this series, click here to go to the index.

I’m somewhat bored of doing that. I tried to be more expansive in order to rev up some of my flagging interest, but in the end my football round-up has become a chore, one that I no longer really enjoy doing, and which does not garner many readers.

So, with that in mind, I have decided to alter the Monday post a bit. It’ll be sports related still, because I love sport and that will never change. But I’m going to open things up to more sports in order to add greater variety, and limit my focus for football to the teams I actively support. So, here’s to the new era.

Limerick looked really off the pace against St Patrick’s Athletic, easily beaten in the end by a team that, by nearly all accounts, are playing the best football of any team in the LOI this season. Limerick have extensive injury problems and Taylor didn’t have as much time as he would have wanted at the beginning of the year to actually form a squad, but the recent run of form is fairly concerning. Considering the resources that have been put into the team, the return has, on occasion, been lacking.

The summer transfer window is going to be a really key test of Taylor’s ability in my eyes, since several of Limerick’s better players in the first half of the season, like Craig Curran, will probably be leaving and will require replacing. Limerick have showed signs of greatness at points in the first half of their top flight return, but a careful look at the table shows them just five points – or put another way, two bad results – from the relegation places. Only the play-off place is a realistic worry, given Shelbourne’s appalling displays this season, and even that would be a bit of a stretch, but I’d like to see Limerick show some progression and try to aim a little higher than survival.

On the national side of things, Ireland eventually came to a 3-0 scoreline against the group minnows, but it took a long amount of time to get there, and the performance was, as ever under the Great and Powerful Oz, disappointing. With the exception of Keane and Hoolahan, none of the team really covered themselves in glory, hamstrung by a system of long ball and lack of pressure that was completely unsuitable for professionals playing a team of fishermen.

Keane is aging and has (or should have) little time left as a starting forward. He’ll be forced into a sub-role soon enough, by the march of time if nothing else. But against a defence of the amateur nature of the Faroe Islands, he’s able to find plenty of gaps and drift into space when needs be, and he deserved the hat-trick. Even if he was up to little els outside the box. Hoolahan was a delight at times, some excellent passing play for the first two goals and a genuine threat all night. The negative is only the depression that will invariably follow when Trap fails to start him for the really crucial games.

Other players let themselves down. Wilson was ineffective and surprisingly nervous for the opposition, Whelan was as unimpressive as ever, McGeady wasted too many opportunities after getting in to good positions, Cox was typically wasted on the right wing (while McClean, an actual winger, sat out a game against 6^th seeds) and then there was Sammon.

I don’t want to be overly critical of Sammon, but he’s third tier playing for a national side. People seemed to fall over themselves to praise him for his assist to Keane for his final goal. He received, moved a step and passed it four yards, against an amateur defence that looked exhausted in the final minutes.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever seen him add to the Irish effort in a competitive game and it was nothing Cox, Walters or Long could not have done. Trap’s odd faith in him is worrying.

Ireland still have to go to Austria and win, and get something off Sweden too. Yikes.

It’s hurling season again, and praise the Lord we have had a few actual competitive games. This time last season we had the pleasure of watching Dublin slaughter Laois, Galway slaughter Westmeath and Tipp reap the benefits of another Limerick choke job.

This time we’ve seen something different and, in order to alleviate the “Blowout Problem” I really hope it continues. Dublin and Wexford might not have played some vintage hurling, but their draw was at least interesting to watch. Offaly provided a better test than expected against Kilkenny even if the end result was very predictable. And then there was Limerick.

Three years ago, after the Limerick youth team that Justin McCarthy was trying to blood in as a new wave of Senior hurlers (a policy I supported wholeheartedly) was dumped out of the championship in a qualifier against Offaly, I said this:

“The time will come when this team turns around and beats Cork or Tipp or Waterford. And for those players, who went out and gave a “battling display” only to lose over and over again, because they weren’t old enough, fast enough, experienced enough, for those players who had to trudge back to Limerick in defeat, for those players who stood in front of reporters with tears close to bursting out of their eyes, it will be a sweet, sweet moment.”

That moment has come. Featuring plenty of younger players who took part in U21 competition just a week ago, this Limerick team fought hard, played hard and won a great victory in the Gaelic Grounds, which I’m delighted to say I was present at. Rather than offer any specific comments on tactics, I’ll only say that, having seen Tipp score a goal to take a four point lead deep in the second half, I pretty much figured Limerick had thrown away another lead. But rather than fade away as they have at many point over the last few years, they fought back, peppered over points and got the advantage.

It was this period where I most proud, seeing players fling themselves at balls that Tipp were trying to play out from their own half, and battling gamely for any loose possession, any slim chance. There was a clear desire there, not to let this be just another defeat.

At the start of the this season, I would have hoped that, having established themselves as All-Ireland quarter-finalist standard over the last few years, this current Limerick team would go one step forward and reach the last four. Well, following the marvellous victory yesterday, they are one single win away from achieving that, as well as their first trophy in many, many years. This is good for Limerick hurling, and for hurling in general.

Lastly for today, I’ll mention ice hockey. My love of that sport is not something I usually talk about too much, but I’d like to give a shout-out to the Boston Bruins. It would be in appropriate to call myself an avid supporter of the club, since I enjoy the game and their exploits in a casual, distant manner, but I’m still delighted to see them reach their second Stanley Cup Finals in three years, where they will take on #1 in the nation side the Chicago Blackhawks. Having come back in Game 7 against Toronto in astonishing fashion and swept aside the highly fancied Pittsburgh Penguins, we can at least be pretty sure that the underdogs will give us a good show.

Single-Seat Constituencies

An interesting idea, to be sure. Ireland’s current system allows for larger constituencies served by anywhere between three to five TD’s. Single-seat constituencies, on the lines of those utilised by the United Kingdom, would see Ireland’s Dail representatives relegated to much smaller geographical areas. There would be a greater amount of separate elections when choosing the legislature, balanced out by the smaller catchment areas.

Positives are that each TD has a more specific area and section of the population to represent, cutting down on their workload and making sure that, if you have no problem with the parish pump side of things, they have a better chance to do better work for their local communities. Some of the more negative aspects of PR-STV get cancelled out when only one seat is available, as the complexity of an election is reduced drastically, while still retaining the key essence of the transferable vote system. Each member of the legislature can be more easily recognisable as a “winner”, since they must have been able to garner 50% of the vote in only a few counts (in most cases).

On the other hand, the greater amount of elections causes more hassle during the actual process, such contests could take on the aspects of local election campaigns due to the receding electoral area and such a system invariably brings most of its benefits to the largest parties, one of the reasons that Westminster has been dominated by just three, and just two, for a large amount of its history.

I have a certain amount of time for this idea, but am ultimately opposed due to the inherent disadvantage it offers to smaller parties, independent candidates and new candidates. This is the kind of system that simply entrenches current political powers, and does not aid in the furtherance and evolution of democracy.

Recalls

Ah, now here’s an idea. In principle, I have no problem with it at all, and am very open to being convinced that it could work. If unsatisfied with the performance of their TD, a group of constituents of an selected number can express their disapproval in a formal manner, forcing that TD to face an initial plebiscite on his/her retaining her position, or just a normal election done on bye-election lines.

All well and good. American employs such a system in a lot of places and to good effect. If a politician does something bad, the electorate have the chance to call him/her to account.

But it’s hard to really work it in to Irish politics, not without changing the Irish electoral system entirely. Let’s take Mick Wallace as an example. Wallace is the kind of guy you can imagine having to face a recall election due to his behaviour, but the math doesn’t exactly seem fair. In 2011, he was elected on the first count in Wexford with 13’339 votes, which constituted 13.79% of the first preferences.

So, if the citizens of Wexford want Wallace recalled, how many do they need? The vast majority of the people of Wexford, over 85% of those who voted in 2011, didn’t vote for him. How high a threshold are we setting?

Because you can’t leave it too low, or you risk a legislature that is crippled with an inability to actually govern, for fear of every decision bringing the threat of recall from some segment of unhappy voters, and it can’t be too high or else the whole exercise becomes pointless.

So, what about Wallace? 50% of voters required to sign the petition? Or as many as initially voted for him? I can see that happening all too easily. Way too easily really, considering the actual nature of his support.  More then? 60%? 70%? How is this to be determined?

But even if you do find the perfect number, it still isn’t fair, because Wallace faces a recall election dramatically different to his original contest, because it is just his seat up for grabs.

That makes for a quota of 50% of the votes (as opposed to the usual 20%), something Wallace would be very far off of given his previous performance, and a much easier road to beat him for somebody else. Is that fair? The recall system can’t exist if it stacks the deck against the target so much, otherwise it’s too potent a weapon to be wielded.

Unless we alter PR-STV, something I’m already on record as wanting to retain, or submit to a two-party system ala the United States, a terrible system to contemplate, recalls won’t work here.

Selection Of Ministers

Lastly, just to throw in one last thing I’ve imagined fondly for a while, I would favour altering our electoral system and the general rules of government and the Dail to make Ministerial positions available for unelected representatives. The positives and negatives to this approach are obvious, but I feel it would be an acceptable solution to concerns of Ministers misusing their powers to benefit their own electoral areas. If Ministerial appointment further had to be approved by the President and a select committee (or even a reformed Oireachtas in general, with a high degree of passing mark required), it could ensure that appropriate people, skilled in their respective fields and unburdened by the ever-present concern of appeasing a specific electorate, could be become cabinet members, such as is the system in the United States.

I had initially turned my nose up at some of the early trailers for Epic, deeming them uninteresting and derivative of other, better, works. But a later one that used Snow Patrol’s “What If The Storm Ends?” piqued my interest in a very effective way, so I decided to give it a go. In the end I’m not sure if it was really worth it.

Epic is the story of M.K. (Amanda Seyfried) who is trying to sort out the fractured relationship she has with her scientist father Professor Bomba (Jason Sudeikis), a man obsessed with seeking tiny men he claims live in the woods around his home. Despite M.K.’s scepticism, the “Leafmen” really do exist, living under the rule of Queen Tara (Beyonce Knowles) and the military leadership of Ronin (Colin Farrell), who also has to deal with the impetuousness of one of his subordinates, Nod (Josh Hutcherson). When the rot-spreading Boggans, led by Mandrake (Christoph Waltz) make a bid to destroy the forest one and for all, M.K. is drawn into the miniature war by the magic of Tara, and with the help of Ronin, Nod, the caterpillar Nim Galuu (Stephen Tyler) and the slug/snail combination of Mub (Aziz Ansari) and Grub (Chris O’Dowd), she has to try and find a way to preserve the heart of the forest.

The general plot is nothing spectacular, and is taking its main points wholesale from such sources as Avatar and Fern Gully, though I suppose it is fair enough to say that it manages to add a degree of uniqueness that keeps the experience from being completely stale. The actual narrative is done in a dual fashion for much of the running time, switching back and forth between the war of the Leafmen and the Boggans, and the journey of the M.K. character. It actually takes a good bit of the running time to get right down to the “micro” process that is the whole hook.

I think it’s hard to undertake that concept and not get lost in the inevitable humour of the situation. The most famous use of it, after all, are things like “Honey I Shrunk The Kids” and even examples of a much more serious bent, like Michael Crichton’s last novel Micro, lose a little something with the comicalness of the premise, of little people getting trapped in handbags and having to deal with talking slugs.

Epic has an even higher likelihood of falling into that trap, seeing as how it is a CGI movie, but in fairness it manages to draw a distinct line between  the humour elements and the more serious stuff. It certainly isn’t anything on a par with A Bug’s Life and the like, but this is a serviceable plot.

I wouldn’t say that it is very “epic” though. The heart of it is a conflict between a lonely daughter and a distant father, and the actually epicness is supposed to come from the Leafman/Boggan war. But that war has such little at risk in the grand scheme of things – the destruction of a single forest, something magically done away with it with a single pod – that it fails to hit home. The point is, presumably, that “epic” stories can be found in small places, but the speed of the narrative and the rather limp finale mean that Epic could probably have been better called “Mildly Interesting”.

As I said, it is very fast paced, as any movie coming in at just over 100 minutes would be. There’s too much to go over here, too much epicness that the production team are trying to cram in, and in the end this results in a film that is rushing from scene to scene, set-piece to set-piece, without giving enough time for most of them to leave an impact on the audience. The finale, an all-out battle between the two factions, is rather disappointing, the focus squarely on the magical pod and M.K.’s interaction with her father, and a pedestrian final combat between Mandrake and Ronin that we’d already seen in the movie 20 minutes previously.

It’s the kind of movie where, having been initially introduced to the characters and the basic plot, you could just about fill in the blanks yourself. There’s a half-assed romantic angle they don’t really do enough with, there’s the kid-friendly anthropomorphic animal guys, the magical MacGuffin that will make everything all ok in the end, the bad guy gets killed (but not by the good guys, because that would be wrong) and its happy families when the credits role. In fairness, Epic at least manages to subvert a few things in the rare darker moments, like when Mandrake kills the bird Nod was riding at the conclusion, or when his son dies, so that’s something.

But aside from that, there’s nothing to really write home about, nothing that Epic can really do to escape a tag of “interesting, but forgettable”. Most characters have incredibly simple, almost clichéd, journeys to go on, like the reckless Nod who has to find his inner sense of responsibility, Bomba who has to understand that his daughter is more important than his work, and M.K. herself who, well, I guess makes peace with her father through her danger-filled adventure, which makes her appreciate he family more.

It’s always easy to spot the better actors in a VA production. Those who come from a comedy/stand-up/musical background, more used to being put in front of a mike and asked to instantly perform, sound better and more in tune with their characters, while others, the big blockbuster stars with no prior experience in this sort of thing, struggle. That’s why Ansari, O’Dowd, Knowles, Tyler and Sudeikis sound a hell of a lot better than the likes of Farrell, Hutcherson and Waltz.

Seyfried is enjoyable enough. She has an occasional sense of quiet desperateness to her, though I wasn’t too impressed with the critical conversation between her and her father before her transformation. She’s in and out, with varying levels of tempo, effort and to be frank, interest. It’s no virtuoso performance as a leading role and she pales in comparison to some of the others. Hutcherson is not putting in the best he could possibly could either, and I never really got an idea of his characters emotions or range throughout the course of Epic.

Sudeikis is probably the best of the cast. I really liked the mix of panic, curiosity and sadness in him, this obsessed scientist desperately trying to right every wrong in his life by tracking down the Leafmen. His side of the interactions with M.K. are more enjoyable, and he manages to add a satisfying amount of emotional maturity to the story by the conclusion, elaborating on just why he is so determined to find these mysterious creatures, even if they aren’t really the right reasons.

Colin Farrell just sounds wrong for the character model, if that makes sense. The Irish twang coming out of this warrior doesn’t feel right, and I wondered early on if there were some slight synching issues. Farrell is clearly not very comfortable in this role, and since he is quite a good actor, I can only put this down to the specific medium. Beyonce Knowles is a little better, and I think she manages to capture a little of the magic and barely hidden glee of the Tara character in her brief time on screen.

Waltz is basically just channelling a bit of Hans Landa here and calling it a day. He’s not phoning it in, but all this is missing is a somewhat more obvious German twang and a slightly deeper malice and it would be his most iconic character in a quasi-insect form. He’s threatening and has presence, but this is nothing Waltz hasn’t done before, and better. I suppose you could justifiably say that he simply isn’t being given enough to do, but when compared to someone like, say, Kevin Spacey’s Hopper in A Bug’s Life, Mandrake falls well short.

Stephen Tyler is rather good as the wise old caterpillar, and I wonder if he might consider going more into the world of VA. Chris O’Dowd and Aziz Ansari are given enough of an opportunity to lighten the tone and offer some enjoyable humour, Ansari more so, but in the end their role is basically that of a brief distraction from more serious issues. Pitbull plays a frog, and that’s about all I can say for that.

It’s a pretty prediction. The forest is illustrated very well, and a nice contrast is found between the greenery of the Leafmen and the decay of the Boggans. Stuff like the armour of the Leafmen, the special attention given to animal movements (especially one excellent sequence with a mouse), the leaf boat of Queen Tara, it’s clear that a really good amount of artistic work has gone into Epic. The Boggan’s are a strange race – the Leafmen are just miniature humans, I’m unsure just what the Boggans are a micro-version of, they have a constant insect motif though – but there is a good display of variety when it comes to them. One or two characters, like Bomba, seem to have been made to the wrong proportions when compared to others, but that’s a minor quibble.

There are some nice choices made with the universe that result in interesting visual styles. The miniature world lives in a faster timeframe than that of the “Stompers”, which allows for sequences that are sped up and also slowed down, with intriguing contrasts in-between, like when micro M.K. flees from her dog, or when Bomba’s attempts communication with his daughter.

There are some fluid action sequences as well, from Nod’s opening scene escape from the Boggans which was showed off some of the jumping motifs that became prevalent, the infiltration of the Boggan home area, which allowed for a darker, grimier backdrop than the movie had used up to that point, and the final confrontation over the Leafman fortress. I wasn’t too enamoured with that finale, but the bat swarm was at least interesting to look at.

Script-wise, its fine, nothing to really get too worked up about either way. The conflict between the Bomba father/daughter pair is written nicely, and I found the Professor’s obsession, by the end anyway, to be somewhat believable, as was M.K.’s pain at her father’s lack of care for her. On the other hand, the casual flirting between Tara and Ronin was rather dire, and most of Nod’s lines are forgettable. Mandrake has a few decent words to say, especially when he gets into the really evil territory. As with so much else of the film, there’s not much really to say here.

The same goes with the music. The score and the soundtrack aren’t memorable, and completely fail to reach the heights of other CGI movies. That doesn’t mean they are bad, but as with other productions, Epic’s failed my own personal test: having seen the movie, I can no longer remember any of the soundtrack in my head. It’s Danny Elfman, so its not like the score was done by some nobody.

Moving nicely on to themes. I wouldn’t say that Epic is especially deep when it comes to themes, and nothing gets really enough time to be marked down as an important one. There are bits and pieces of delusion, revenge, love and desperation. I can see only two themes to really expand upon.

As you expect, Environmentalism is a substantial one, but I’m happy to say that, despite fears beforehand, Epic is not a preachy movie. Unlike say, The Lorax, or the obvious reference material of Fern Gully, Epic is not about human destruction of the environment, and as far as I can see features no reference to such things at all. There is an underlying theme of protecting nature, but this comes to the fore in the form of a war where the forces of darkness are driven apparently by magic, and are made up of a completely alien species of life that bears little similarity to mankind.

Epic is about preserving the forest, but in the end a magical means is found to do this, and the entire thing has little basis in reality. The forest and nature is shown off as something worth saving, and the diversity of the whole thing is a crucial point, but in the end Epic offers no commentary on the current interaction between humanity and their environment.

Family is the other crucial theme. Obviously there is the fracture between M.K. and her father. That’s the driving force behind the entire M.K. character, and Bomba as well, though we only really learn that by the conclusion. Throughout M.K. adventure, she is exposed to a world where togetherness is everything – many leaves, one tree – and comes to understand that she cannot give up on her father that easily. Bomba eventually comes to realise that the fulfilment of his life ambition is meaningless, if his relationship with his daughter isn’t there. There’s also the only occasionally mentioned back-story for Nod about his dead father and how his absence has affected him, but unfortunately this, rather critical, aspect of the character is disappointingly underdeveloped, especially since the bare minimum we received seem to be important to the general structure of Nod’s own journey. There is also some brief interaction between Mandrake and his son Dagda, and Mandrake’s quest to take over the forest only kicks into overdrive with Dagda’s death. It’s almost refreshing to see a villain with what approaches a positive relationship with a family member. Mandrake’s vengeance quest after Dagda’s death is in stark contrast with M.K. desire to fix her own disrupted family unit, and with Nod’s hopes, by the end, of emulating his father.

Epic is, more than anything else, forgettable to a fault. This kind of ground has been trod before, and done better. Epic, through a standard plot, standard script, standard score and mostly standard visuals, offers up a CGI offering that struggles to be anything other than run-of-the-mill, the kind of movie that exists solely to keep kids and parents occupied for 100 or so minutes. It keeps its head above water with a few deeper and dark moments, but mostly stays firmly saddled to that 50% bar. Some of the performances are good, some of the visuals are stand-out, but that’s really about it. Epic won’t stay long in my mind, and I think that while I acknowledge it wasn’t a bad movie, such a declaration is far worse than most outright criticisms.

As for the Junior Cert, it’s a pointless relic that will both mean and get you next to nothing in the real world. The JC is 0.1 ahead of your exams at the end of 2nd year in terms of importance, and was treated with laughable disdain by the faculty at my school, but of course, only after we had completed it.

I write all that after reading a lot of “Don’t stress” and the like. I disagree with that sentiment. Do stress. Until it’s over, and you have gotten the requisite three digit number to continue studying if that is your desire, at an institution where independent thinking is encouraged, not stifled. Then you can start to forget the useless nonsense so much of the curriculum contains.

Allow me to go through each of the seven subjects I took in the Leaving Cert seven years ago and expand upon what I learned, and what I retained. In no particular order:

English – I can say that the English class I was mandated to take encouraged a love of good literature and of Shakespeare, so I’m grateful for that. It did not, through its emphasis on rote learning and beating the system, encourage a love of poetry. For creative writing, the instruction I received was minimal, and the emphasis was on simply learning off various themes and ideas to regurgitate onto the page when discussing King Lear or The True History of the Kelly Gang.

Most of the best books you will ever read are the kind that school authorities wouldn’t allow within a hundred miles of an actual curriculum, so English class suffers from a certain amount of conformity – teachers and then students are encouraged to focus on only a very select amount of textbooks. When mine tried to get out of this pattern with the aforementioned Kelly Gang, a very entertaining and unique book, the class suffered due to a lack of analysis being readily available. When I took grinds in English, the tutors had nothing to offer on that book.

Irish – I was always terrible at Irish, and have a relationship with the language that skirts the bounds of adversarial. Roughly five minutes after I had completed the exam, for which I received the lowest passing mark and was happy with it, I had ceased any attempt to retain information on it. Unless you are one of the staggeringly low number of people who will speak Irish on a daily basis, so will you, no matter what you might think.

Maths – Most of the maths I actually use day to day, I have known since finishing primary school. Obviously, some will go on to use Maths to a greater extent than others depending on college choices and employment prospects. The vast majority of us will make do with the basics of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, ignoring various other theorems and more complex algebraic equations as something that has no relevance in the real world, when calculators and other options exist to do the work for us.

History – This was always my great skill, and I can say without any degree of hyperbole that I would have aced the LC in my second year if given the opportunity to take it. This subject simply came far easier to me than any other. Since I went on to study history in 3^rd level, this was by far the most useful subject I took in school, but I was struck, after a completing only a few weeks in my alma mater, the rank difference in the approach between secondary and third level. In secondary level, history is something to be learned off. In third, it’s something you are required to think about, or struggle. I imagine that’s the same for most subjects.

Geography – I wasn’t too bad at this either, but lack of use for what I learned has resulted in most of it slipping out of my head. Population statistics and the formation of oxbow lakes is the kind of stuff that will be useful for some, but for most will be relegated for use as a table quiz outlet.

Business Studies – I have never owned a business and don’t know if I ever will, but I can at least acknowledge the usefulness of this subject and some of the things it contains, especially in regards consumer rights, basic accountancy and looking into how money works. This is the kind of subject that gives practical knowledge and is useful in many ways in the real world.

French – I was never good at it, but I recognise the obvious practicality of having to learn a major European language in school, even to a basic extent.

That’s it. Out of those seven, there are none, bar some elements of French and Business Studies, which I could describe as critical for moving past education and into the actual world, not for everyone. Individuals will take more from some subjects, but the vast majority of the curriculum is poorly designed.

What would I change? I would put in more electives. In fact, I’d make everything an elective. Split English into a study of the language ala French and English Literature. Remove the special emphasis on Irish, especially the ridiculous necessity of passing it in order to study at most 3^rd level institutions, regardless of what you’re hoping to study there. More emphasis on Spanish, as the language of much of the world. The scrapping of transition year, in favour of a more constant program that focuses on fundamental skills and tasks for life – cooking, budgeting, maintenance, job seeking, house hunting, sexual health, that must be taken but requires no exam. A PE assessment process. A revamp and greater importance for CSPE as a class to become involved in the political process of the nation. Trashing religion class, an outdated use of the curriculums space. Have at least 25% of every subjects mark come down to independent project work. A requirement to take part in some form of extra-curricular activity, be it sports or academically based. Scrapping the Junior Cert completely, and implementing at least two series of “mocks” for the LC instead.

Unfortunately, our schools and education department are stuck in a hopelessly inefficient system, making only the bare minimum of changes and bad ones when they do, like the extra 25 points for Math, the kind of band-aid that does nothing to fix underlying problems in the system.

So, students, do your best to regurgitate the required knowledge onto your answer booklets to an extent that society deems acceptable, and pray you do it well enough to make it to a promised land of greater opportunity for intellectual advancement, or to wherever you feel best suits you and your desires. Unless you’re doing the Junior Cert, in which case nothing you do matters that much.

Take one person I have in mind. Born in 1892. Became an engineer and an architect in his native country. Very prominent in local GAA, to the extent that a terrace is named after him in the county stadium. Joined the Volunteers in 1917. Co-led the first capture of an RIC barracks in his country. Caught the attention of Michael Collins for his initiative and leadership. Enrolled in the IRB. Imprisoned on several occasions, but escaped. Appointed director of the Army in 1921. Elected a TD the same year. Re-elected in 1922. Appointed commander of an IRA division. Led IRA efforts in Belfast during the Truce period. Becomes the youngest General in Europe at age 30. Appointed IRA Chief of Staff in 1922. Served as a Commander in the Irish Civil War on the pro-Treaty side, leading forces in Munster, especially in the Limerick fighting. In the aftermath, appointed as the first peace-time commissioner of the new police force, leading the way on the formation of an unarmed constabulary.

Now that all sounds like a seriously impressive resume for a revolutionary at the time, on a par only with some of the more illustrious names. Would it not be fair to mention such a person in the same breath of Ernie O’Malley, Richard Mulcahy and Liam Hogan? But this person isn’t.

Some will know who I’m talking about already, but you’d be surprised at the amount of people who would know the name “Eoin O’Duffy” from Irish history, and not have the slightest inkling of any of his activities pre-1930. Part of that is probably that Irish history of the last century has been one dominated by accounts of inspiring and loved figures, and popular knowledge of someone like O’Duffy suffered for that.

O’Duffy’s life after 1923 is what has gained him far more attention, for all the wrong reasons. His relationship with successive governments was strained as Garda Commissioner, and many claim he encouraged a military coup to prevent Fianna Fail from taking office in 1932. Sacked by De Valera’s government, O’Duffy founded a led a succession of organisations (the Army Comrades Association, the National Guard, the League of Youth, the Young Ireland Association and then the National Corporate Party) designed at first to protect Cumann na nGaedheal members under pressure and attack from the IRA, which later began to espouse progressively more aggressive and fascist ideology. Eventually thrown out of the conglomeration of groups that became Fine Gael, which he had helped to found, O’Duffy organised and led an Irish Brigade in support of the Nationalist side in the Spanish Civil War. Their time and impact in Spain was minimal. O’Duffy retired from public life, his health deteriorated, and he died in 1944, aged 52. He was given a state funeral. He is thrice  scarred in history, thanks to the Republicans who hate him for his pro-Treaty stance, the democrats who hate him for the fascism, and his own party, Fine Gael, who dislike him for the bad image he left.

When it comes to remembrance, what do you do about a man like Eoin O’Duffy? He was undoubtedly an important part of the IRA war effort from 1919 to 1922, and a leading figure in the pro-Treaty military.

And then he was Ireland’s fascist, in the same way that Mosley was in Britain, our very own proto-Nazi. (And, to ensure I don’t get accused of leaving critical details out, was also a drunk, megalomaniacal, somewhat delusional,  lost his organising touch spectacularly during his later years, seemed to flounder when placed in positions of command autonomy, and perhaps did his best work when placed in the right position by wiser superiors like Collins)

In terms of remembrance, O’Duffy hasn’t got much. As stated, a terrace is named after him in Clones, but that is more in recognition of his GAA work in Monaghan than anything else. The attachment of fascism to his legacy has destroyed any chance of a positive reception in history. Is this just? The GAA did it after all. Is it possible to separate one part of someone’s life for commemoration, when it contrasts with another, deeply disturbing, part?

I would say no, no it isn’t.

Firstly, commemoration should never mean, as I have previously stated, veneration or condemnation. We should be capable, as a nation, of looking back at the actions of O’Duffy throughout his life as dispassionately as possible, and appraising them for their time. That doesn’t mean we have to act like O’Duffy was some kind of folk hero, any more than it has to mean we treat him as some kind of inhuman monster.

We don’t have to praise him. A fascist is a fascist. But we don’t have to forget his revolutionary period service either.

We have to look at people’s lives as a whole and weigh things up. O’Duffy provides an excellent example of the shades of grey that can be found all throughout our centenary decade, of men who may very well have fought the British with great bravery, only to become lesser individuals afterward. Think of any major figure from those ten years who survived them and went on to be as prominent later, and I’ll show you someone with a disputed legacy. De Valera, Mulcahy, O’Kelly.

It’s one of the reasons people like Pearse, Collins and Barry have become so venerated. It’s the great advantage to dying young (or keeping out of public life), and as a hero. You never get the chance to tarnish that legacy. If O’Duffy had been killed in a Civil War ambush, our history would undoubtedly be far more positive towards him.

But that’s not what happened. What we have is a man of mixed legacy. A fascinating individual to be sure (check out Fearghal McGarry’s excellent biography), and the kind of guy who provides an excellent glimpse into the political and military life of the birth of the state and its formative years.

What is not right, or just, is to try and act like, in the coming centenary, people like O’Duffy never existed at all. When the documentaries come rolling around, when we read and watch and hear about that time period in the next ten years, we owe it to ourselves to form as complete a picture as possible, which means including in our remembrance people like O’Duffy and what they did. We can look at his activities and service with an eye for his later life, try and see the formative reasons for his turn to fascism, whether it was always his ideology or if he was pushed towards it by his experiences during and after the revolutionary period.

Fascism, the kind that so threatened Europe in the 1930s, isn’t really in Ireland anymore, not to the extent or popular support that it once had. We shouldn’t be afraid to address its origins or its impact from the distance of historical study. We can do that in the centenary decade by putting O’Duffy, if only in a small section and for a short time, as a focus.

The first phase was the violence of 1641 and early 1642, when the “war” was little more than a wave of directionless violence that engulfed the island. The second phase was the start of actual military operations, carried out by armies in the field combating against each other with recognisable strategic purpose. That phase had been marked by a succession of victories by the English side, as well as the Scottish Covenanters to the north. The Irish side had managed to achieve a greater amount of organisation and had accomplished some successful sieges and territory grabbing – Limerick was probably their greatest success in this phase. But when it came to actually fighting, the Irish had been shown up time and time again. They had failed to take Drogheda. They had been beaten by Ormonde at Kilrush. They had been driven off from their initial assault on Cork, and later roundly defeated at Liscarroll despite numerous advantages. They were in a stalemate in Galway. Munro’s Scots held complete sway in Ulster, with Phelim’s O’Neill’s army beaten at Glenmaquin and looking increasing powerless.

The Irish held most of Ireland’s territory, they held Limerick and Galway, along with a few other urban centres. But the English controlled Dublin, Cork and most of the eastern coast, areas of vital strategic importance.

But for events in England, the rebellion could easily have been crushed at that point, if the English and Scots had just continued as they had been doing. But the final schism between King Charles and his Parliament was a huge boon to the rebel forces. The Battle of Edgehill, recognised as the first proper clash of the Civil War in England, took place in October. With no decisive result, it was clear that the war could be a protracted one.

That resulted in both sides focusing primarily on the war in England, to the detriment of the war in Ireland. The English forces, whose loyalties were conflicted between King and legislature, were left without a continuing stream of reinforcements, without financial or material support. The Scots in Ulster were given even more autonomy, lacking suddenly even the pretence of Parliamentary oversight. For the time being Ormonde, the nominal head of the English forces in Ireland, was on his own.

The Irish had to take advantage of this opportunity, or see their rebellion defeated piece by piece. But first, they received two welcome additions to their forces. This entry will be a short one, discussing the changes in Irish military organisation in late 1642.

I’ve mentioned Owen Roe O’Neill at several points before without any great elaboration, but he was seen as the great hope for the rebel Irish. Owen Roe was a nephew of Hugh O’Neill, he of the Nine Years War. Owen would have grown up surrounded by the war (he was born in 1590) and as a teenager joined his uncle in his flight from Ireland.

He spent the next 40 years mostly in the Spanish Netherlands. Like many others from his family he pledged his service to the Kingdom of Spain, and became an officer of their army, serving with distinction in what is known as the Eighty Years War, a conflict with independent elements of the Netherlands, and later the Franco-Spanish War. Owen Roe went high enough to command his own garrisons and was a widely respected fighter, something on a par with his uncle.

And like his uncle, Owen Roe never gave up on the higher cause, of bringing war back to Ireland and to uproot the Protestant power that had taken over there. Throughout his time in Spanish military service Owen Roe rallied to try and get support for an invasion, which would bring Irish independence under Spanish hegemony. Unlike the Confederates in Ireland, Owen Roe had little time for the English crown, and aimed for a more complete separation from London. In fact, some may consider him the first high-profile Irish republican in history.

But it was not until the violence of 1641 and the subsequent military activity that Owen decided to commit fully to his enterprises. He gathered a small force of between 100 and 300 men, veterans of the Netherlands campaigns, and in the autumn of 1642, he set sail for Ireland.

Owen landed in Donegal, probably not too far from where he had left all those years ago. He arrival had been long expected, the only question was what kind of position he would gain now.

Phelim recognised that his own time as a commander was running out. He was not a bad leader leader, but did not have the experience to be the best commander in the field. His defeats to the Laggan Army were bad reflections on him, and he was in no position to confront the seeming might of Munro’s Covenanter force.

To that end, when Phelim met up with Owen Roe, he ceded command of his army to him. He would become a subordinate to Owen Roe, in charge of the cavalry, a respected position. Phelim did so with some reluctance and no small degree of begrudgery, but his position was untenable. Owen was not especially impressed with the army that he inherited, deeming them undisciplined and little more than a rabble, and his main duty over the following weeks, months and even years was to turn this force into a proper army with the right arming and training. His larger aims regarding titles were not so easily sorted, and his desire to be recognised as the Earl of Tyrone did not come to fruition as he expected. Phelim was still a rival for that position, and was not so willing to give it up.

But from Donegal we have to suddenly head to the opposite side of the country, to Wexford, where another ex-pat was returning home to aid the war effort. Thomas Preston was the younger son of the Viscount Gormonston. Lacking specific prospects for himself, he had left Ireland at a young age to serve in Irish regiments fighting in the Netherlands for the Spanish crown. Preston would go to serve on many fronts and fight in many battles for Spain, but he refused to join any Spanish armies that fought the English, as he felt he had no quarrel with King Charles. This put him at the opposite end of the spectrum to Owen Roe, and would be, perhaps, the root of future conflict between them.

When the rebellion broke out in 1641, Preston made arrangements to head home. He felt that the rebels cause was that of Charles and his family was one of the earliest noble lines to join the original conspirators. When he landed, he proved himself, perhaps, a better recruiter of men than Owen Roe, bringing 500 soldiers, including engineers and artillerymen, along with substantial amounts of cannon, powder, muskets and other supplies. His men were veterans of the Dutch wars, with some of them previously in the service of France.

Owen and Preston, having served together abroad, were already acquainted and neither got on well with the other. Their political beliefs and aims were largely in compatible, and one would not serve under the other.

Before having to sort out this animosity, the Confederates had to organise an actual government. Previously sworn oaths had given them the bare hint of cohesion, but for all intents and purposes, the rebels were simply different armies acting in a general sort of concert. Regional commands were all-powerful, and this lack of coordination could not be allowed to continue. If the Confederates wanted to have a chance, they had to unite. They could not allow their armies to be tackled piecemeal. They needed the proper structure in place for recruitment and for training, so that the rabble that so disgusted Owen Row upon first viewing could be rectified.

They needed defined military regions and commands, answering to a higher authority who could create strategy and direct the Confederate forces to achieve it. Basically put, they actually had to become a Confederacy.

The assembly that would create that system took place in October 1642, at Kilkenny, which would become the seat of government for “Confederate Ireland” ever after. That assembly was essentially a Parliament, although it refused to take that name so as not to threaten the still-maintained pledge that they were fighting for King Charles and were not attempting to usurp his authority.

This mixture of nobles, clergy and commoners created the Confederate Constitution, re-pledged their devotion to King Charles and carried out some political and military reorganisation. A “Supreme Council” of 24 men, six from each province, with Mountgarrett acting as its head was appointed to be the executive of the new entity.

`Those four provinces would be the military districts through which the Confederates would fight their war. Each would recruit, train and field its own army, with its own selected commander. To the north, Owen Roe would command the Ulster Army. Preston, thanks to his gathered troops and support from the Gormonston family, was given the command of Leinster, the largest and best armed force. Garrett Barry, though all but retired from actual military life, was given the command in Munster, though this would soon fall to others. A rebel named John Burke was given the command in Connacht. A position akin to supreme commander was cooked up and given to the Earl of Clanricarde, whom the rebels hoped to lure openly onto their side, but Ulick would not rise to the title, and it was a meaningless appointment.

A treasury was set up, coins began to be minted, banners were set and taxes began to be collected. Orders for a recruitment drive to raise over 30’000 men in Leinster alone were sent out. The regional commanders were sent to their posts to be ready for the next campaigning season, to gather more men, to train them and prepare for the next round of fighting.

Fighting for the rest of 1642 would die down compared to the rest of the year, allowing the Confederates the chance to put their reorganisation into effect. The fighting in England dominated affairs, and the weather was not the best for military matters. As such, both sides spent most of the next few months contemplating the fighting that was to come.

To read the rest of the entries in this series, click here to go to the index.