Winnie & George: An Unlikely Union

Contents

Acknowledgements

7

Introduction

9

Prologue

15

1.

Belfast: The Rise to Success

17

2.

Winnie and George: The Early Years

24

3.

2 April 1912

29

4.

Winnie: August 1912

34

5.

George: February–September 1912

41

6.

Winnie: February 1913

48

7.

Winnie: The Gaelic Revival

56

8.

George: April 1913

61

9.

Winnie: March–December 1913

65

10.

Gun-running 1914

73

11.

Winnie: August 1914

84

12.

George: September 1914–May 1915

89

13.

Winnie: 1914–1915

97

14.

George’s War

104

15.

Winnie’s War

122

16.

Winnie: After the Rising

176

17.

George: After the Great War

186

18.

Winnie: The Road to Partition

192

19.

George: Life in Northern Ireland

197

20.

Winnie: Life in Northern Ireland

200

21.

Winnie and George

232

22.

Winnie and George: An Unlikely Union

249

23.

Winnie and George: Married Life

258

24.

Winnie: Into Decline

264

25.

Goodbye Winnie

269

26.

Life after Winnie

273

27.

George: The Last Post

284

28.

Life after George

287

Epilogue

289

Appendices: Transcribed documents from Winifred Carney’s PRONI file

292

Endnotes

328

Bibliography

334

Index

341

Prologue

Wednesday, 16 March 1988 George McBride resided in the Ulster Volunteer Force retirement hospital in east Belfast. As a survivor of the 36th Ulster Division, which had distinguished itself at the Somme, Messines, Ypres and St Quentin, George had been happy to come and live among other old soldiers.

Every morning he shaved carefully with hands that shook more than he cared to admit. His favourite nurse, Rita Murphy, always ensured that he had a good supply of razor blades. After shaving, he dressed in a suit, slowly tying the knot on his tie. He had no time for morning or daytime television – days were for reading – but the evening news was a necessity. Therefore, after he had enjoyed his evening tea of scrambled eggs and toast, he walked slowly to the dayroom, sat down in his favourite chair and waited for the BBC news to begin. George prided himself on keeping upto-date with world and local political news. Being ninety was no excuse for being ignorant.

Every evening Big Ben chimed across the room and George listened attentively. Then one evening the newsreader reported: Three mourners were killed at Milltown Cemetery in Belfast

today during an attack at the funerals of the Gibraltar bombers.

The attacker, identified as loyalist Michael Stone, threw grenades and shot indiscriminately at mourners, killing three and injuring

more than fifty. Security forces had stayed away from the funerals 15

Winnie & George

in an attempt to keep tension at a minimum. As the bodies were being lowered into the grave, Stone began shooting and throwing

grenades at mourners. Holding the crowd back with an automatic pistol, Stone threw more grenades before running towards the nearby motorway. He was caught and beaten by the crowd before police arrived and intervened to save his life.

George froze as he watched the television images of a long-haired scruffy man running over graves in the cemetery. He clenched his

fists and leapt up with the agility of a much younger man, shouting

in response to the images on the television screen: ‘You go near my Winnie and I swear I’ll kill you! Loyalist! Loyalist! Scum like you

don’t know the meaning of the word. One footprint on her grave and I’ll show you what a soldier is.’

Tears flowing down his cheeks, George slumped to his knees

in front of the television set. Rita scurried to his side and eased

him to his feet. Although past sixty years of age, she was tall and

strong and bore his weight without difficulty. ‘George, George, don’t distress yourself so,’ she said. ‘It’ll not be good for you. Come on, sit in your chair and tell me all about it. Nothing could be this bad.’

George gazed up at the kind, concerned face. His chest heaved

as he tried to speak. ‘Oh Rita, it is. He’s running over the graves in Milltown cemetery where my beloved Winnie lies. And worst of

all, he would have the ignorance to believe he’s on the same side as me.’

16

6 Winnie: February 1913

‘Take a dictation quickly,’ bellowed James Connolly as he strode into the cramped little office. Winnie snatched her pencil and

notepad. She knew that he would not linger long before launching into one of his tirades, which would later become a speech or an article.

Connolly was a believer in an Irish Workers’ Republic and

he despised what he saw as Tory lawyers, with huge resources of finance and propaganda, playing on the emotions and prejudices

in Belfast to destroy the promise of a united labour movement. A month earlier, as the year began, he had contested a local election and polled 900 votes in the Labour interest in the electoral

constituency of Dock Ward. Winnie had typed his letter to the

electors at the time, a letter which had echoed all her own feelings and given her great pleasure to type, once she had overcome the difficulty of deciphering his scrawling handwriting: January 1913

To the Electors: Ladies and Gentlemen,

In view of the fact that the National Health Insurance Act

comes into working operation on January 13, and that one of 48

14 George’s War

1915 Early in July 1915 the soldiers of the Ulster Division were told to send all their personal belongings home. It was time for them to complete their preparations and training for war in England.

The four Belfast battalions marched from Ballykinler to Newcastle, where they caught the train to Dublin. From there they boarded the Holyhead boat and arrived in Wales at midnight.

Crowded together on the pier, they tried to get some sleep before the train arrived at dawn to take them on the rest of their journey.

After a stop at Crewe, where a breakfast of bacon and eggs was provided, they reached Seaford in Sussex.

George found Seaford a most pleasant place to be stationed. The men were treated well by local inhabitants and, for the most part, behaved in an exemplary fashion. He had never travelled before so it was delightful, when off duty, to visit and explore the nearby seaside towns of Brighton and Eastbourne. On one occasion he and five pals were able to visit London and see sights they had only ever read about: Buckingham Palace, Westminster and the Tower of London.

On very warm days they could bathe in the English Channel and even listen to minstrels performing on the beach. George, who, apart from his time at Ballykinler, had never been out of the industrialised city of Belfast, could for the first time watch shepherds using sheepdogs to herd their sheep and could take Sunday afternoon 104