Born on October 16th 1890, Michael Collins was to later be heralded as a heroic Irish revolutionary leader and patriot. He died on the 22nd of August 1922 at Béal na Bláth during the Ireland’s tragic Civil War.
Michael Collins wool throw from his touring car at Béal na Bláth.
Earlier that year, in 1922, Foxford Woollen Mills had presented a specially commissioned Michael Collins Wool Throw to General Michael Collins to mark his appointment to Commander in Chief of the newly established Irish Army. The blanket was in his touring car that day at the ambush at Béal Na Bláth on August 22nd 1922. It was recovered at Shanakiel Hospital by Nurse Nora O’Donaghue and later donated to the National Museum of Ireland.
Foxford Woollen Mills have been granted special permission to reproduce this blanket, and a commerative scarf, using the exact same plaid pattern, in conjunction with the Michael Collins House, Clonakilty, Co. Cork. These are rare and patriotic Irish wool items. The blanket / throw can used in the home & the scarf can be worn during the winter for warmth and comfort. So wrap yourself in Irish history.
CelticClothing.com is very happy to bring both these rare opportunities to the United States.
The following account is extracted from Major General Dalton’s report on the encounter, and Dalton was seated next to Collins in the car.
Michael Collins. Pictured seated at the rear left of the open top car before leaving Bandon to travel to Béal Na Bláth.
Major General Dalton’s report:
“It was about a quarter past seven and the light was falling.
Our motorcyclist scout was about 50 yards in front of the Crossley tender, which we followed at the same interval in the touring car, and close behind us came the armoured car.
“We had just reached a part of the road that was covered by hills on all sides. On the right we were flanked by steep hills; on the left of the road there was a small, 2ft bank of earth skirting the road.
“Beyond this, there was a marshy field bounded by a small stream and covered by another steep hill.
“About halfway up this hill there was a road running parallel to the one we were on, but screened from view by a wall, and a number of trees and bushes. We had just turned a wide corner on the road when a heavy fusillade of machine-gun and rifle fire swept the road in front of us and behind us, shattering the windscreen of our car.
“I shouted to the driver, ‘Drive like Hell!’, but the commander-in-chief, placing his hand on his shoulder, said, ‘Stop! Jump out, we will fight them!’ We jumped from the car and took what cover we could behind the little mud bank on the left side of the road. It appeared the greatest volume of fire was coming from the concealed roadway on our left-hand side.
Michael Collins commemorative plaid scarf.
“The armoured car backed up the road and opened a heavy machine-gun fire at the ambushers. General Collins, I, and another officer, Joe Dolan, who was near us, opened fire on our seldom-seen enemies, with rifles.
“We continued this firefight for about 20 minutes without suffering any casualties, when a lull in the enemy’s fire became noticeable. General Collins jumped to his feet and walked over behind the armoured car, obviously to obtain a better view of our enemy’s position. He remained there, firing occasional shots, using the car as cover.
“Suddenly, I heard him shout, ‘There they are, running up the road!’ I immediately concentrated on two figures that came in to view on the opposite road.
“When I next turned around, the commander-in-chief had left the car position and had run about 15 yards back up the road, dropped into the prone firing position, and opened up on our retreating enemies.
“A few minutes had elapsed when the officer in charge of our escort came running up the road under fire, and dropped into position beside me and said, ‘They have retreated from in front of us and the obstacle [a farmer’s dray] is removed. Where’s the Big Fella?’ I said, ‘He’s all right. He has gone a few yards up the road, I hear him firing away’.
“Then, I heard a faint cry, ‘Emmet, I’m hit!’ The two of us rushed to the spot, fear clutching our hearts. We found our beloved chief and friend lying motionless in a firing position, firmly gripping his rifle, upon which his head was resting.
“There was a gaping wound at the base of his skull, behind his right ear. We immediately saw that he was almost beyond human aid. He did not speak. With my heart torn with sorrow and despair… I gently raised his head on my knee and tried to bandage the wound… and I had not completed my sorrowful task when his eyes quietly closed, and the cold pallor of death covered his face.
“How can I describe the feelings that were mine, kneeling in the mud of a country road with the still-bleeding head of the idol of Ireland resting in my arms? Having transferred the body of our chief to the armoured car, where I sat with his head resting on my shoulder, our sorrowful little party set out for Cork.”
Minute details of the ambush aside, when all was said and done only one material fact remained: Michael Collins, described by Tom Barry as the man who made the greatest contribution to the fight for Irish independence, was dead.
