Generation

The young men’s conversation was cut off abruptly, as first Michael, and then Tim, following the distracted direction of his friend’s head, saw the two menacing soldiers in the alley, just off to their right. The two Black and Tans were questioning a young woman, when they heard the young men approaching. During the past year, Michael had become conditioned to the presence of these “special forces” of His Majesty’s Government, but always had managed to avoid coming in close contact with them. He didn’t have to be cautioned twice by his family, about giving these “black-hearted devils”, as his grandfather called them, a wide berth. Today, however, he and Tim had walked right into two of the largest representatives of this elite force either of them had ever seen. The one on the left of the woman, had dark, menacing features – his black beret was angled low on his forehead, and his large, bushy moustache only succeeded in covering part of his scowl. Standing at a height, which Michael estimated to be six feet four or five inches, with his Thompson gun slung over his left shoulder – he looked formidable enough to intimidate the best pugs at Clancy’s. His companion, on the right of the woman, however, was even more imposing - if that were possible. He wore sergeant’s stripes, and was obviously the one, who was interrogating the young woman. He looked like the epitome of what the great Irish king Brian Boru, or the Viking Leif Erickson might have looked like. Even taller then his dark counterpart, this red-haired giant stood with his legs slightly apart, a large 45 automatic holstered on his hip, and a riding crop tucked under his left armpit. Between the two behemoths stood the quivering figure of the young woman, her eyes darting first to one, and then to the other, as questions were being asked of her.

Neither Michael nor Tim had realized that they had stopped dead in their tracks, so startled were they at the sight of the scene unfolding before them. There they stood, perhaps only twenty feet from the trio, and for paralyzing seconds, they remained transfixed in that position.

Michael came out of his surprised rigidity first, and gave Tim a sharp nudge with his elbow, startling his friend.

“What are yer stopping for, we’ll both be late for work, if yer poke along like yer doing”, Michael asked, showing feigned annoyance at his younger companion.

“Aye, yer right – I was jist taken a bit by surprise, that’s all”, Tim answered quickly, falling in line with the dialogue.

The teenagers began walking again, with their strides a little wider and more rapid than before. Their attempt at crossing the street was cut short by the harsh command of the larger sergeant.

“Hold it right there, me buckos! I want to have a word with you two! Why did you stop? Do you know this woman? Come here and stand by this wall, until I finish speakin’ with this fine example of Irish womanhood”, his voice dripping with undisguised, hateful sarcasm.

Michael could feel himself shudder, and it seemed to mingle with the sudden chill enveloping his body. He and Tim meekly obeyed and walked back, following the sergeant’s arm, as it pointed to the space he wished them to occupy. Once he saw them in place, he ignored them, as if they didn’t exist, and returned to his questioning of the terrified woman. She appeared to be in her late twenties, but gray strands mixed amongst her dark chestnut hair, and the early lines forming on her face, made her seem older, and reflected her lower class environment. Her clothes were neat and clean, but badly worn and patched in several places, with cloth that didn’t always match the original garment’s color – around her shoulders, she clutched an old woolen shawl, as her sole protection from the elements.

“Now, as I was sayin’, your ladyship – do you, or don’t you know the man I mentioned?”

“No, I swear I don’t know him – fer the life of me, I don’t! I live down at the Liberties, and never go out much except when I sell me wares at the market. The man yer lookin’ fer, lives in the center of town, and I…….I mean he probably lives there! I know I never saw, or heard of him in me area!”

The sergeant glanced at his dark compatriot, whose scowl was changing to a sneer, as he slowly took his Thompson from its inactive place on his shoulder.