Free The Guns of Easter by Gerard Whelan

old woman would come back with more clothes. They didn’t seem to notice that the pile wasn’t growing any bigger.
    There was an odd fixed look on the faces of most of the looters, almost a crazy look. It was a look that frightened Jimmy. It was as if a kind of madness had come down and struck hundreds of people at the same time.
    Beside Jimmy, Tommy was taking fresh handfuls of sweets from his pockets. ‘Have some,’ he offered.
    But Jimmy shook his head. He was so stunned by what he was seeing that he’d almost forgotten Tommy was there.
    The dead horses of the Lancers were still lying in the road and a woman was using one of them as a seat. She was young and pretty, but she was drinking from a bottle and was obviously quite drunk. As Jimmy watched, she tried to stand up but fell back down in a flurry of petticoats. She began to sing something, though he couldn’t hear her words above the rumble of the crowd. A big man went over and touched the girl’s shoulder, and she swung at himdrunkenly with the bottle. Then a surge of the crowd hid both of them from Jimmy’s view, and instead he watched two other drunken young women fighting.
    ‘Look at them mots!’ said Tommy.
    The women were both dressed in rags, and they were fighting over a silk dress. Each of them had a grip on one end of it, and was pulling frantically with the gripping hand. At the same time they were both scratching and clawing at each other’s faces with the free hand. Their faces were bloody, and the dress they fought over had been torn and dirtied by their struggle. It was hardly better now than the rags that they were already wearing.
    Jimmy saw so many strange and terrible things that he couldn’t take all of them in. In the crowd he saw people he knew, but they seemed completely changed. Their faces wore a look of awful hunger. It was the look of people who’d never in their lives had anything at all and are suddenly free to have everything they want. It was a look of pure hunger let loose. It frightened and disgusted Jimmy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to blame them or feel that they were evil. The real evil, the evil that made it possible for them to have such savage hunger, was the way that they were forced to live in total poverty every day.
    But Jimmy wouldn’t venture out into Sackville Street; he was afraid that if he went among the crowds their madness would take him over too. He just stood at the corner and watched the incredible scenes.
    ‘Janey mack, Jimmy! You’re gettin’ to be a right softie!’ said Tommy. ‘I’m going. Are you coming or not?’
    Jimmy shook his head and Tommy was gone in a flash.
    Two Volunteers appeared near Jimmy. They’d obviously been trying to control the crowd, and they’d just as obviously failed. They were both in uniform, but instead of guns they carried long wooden clubs like police batons. One of them was a middle-aged man with a thick grey moustache and a hard, grave face. His companion was much younger, maybe Mick’s age. At first Jimmy thought that the younger man was hurt, because he was leaning heavily on the older one. Then Jimmy realised that he was crying.
    The two stopped close to where Jimmy stood, and he made out the words that the younger one was saying. ‘They don’t understand,’ he sobbed, over and over. ‘They don’t understand.’
    Jimmy understood, though; and he knew what was wrong with the young Volunteer too. The man was disappointed that the crowds were not living up to his ideals. He looked healthy and well fed, as though he came from a comfortable home. He would know nothing about real hunger and want. Jimmy understood the looting. He didn’t like it, but he did understand it. It was the Volunteer, he thought, who didn’t have a clue.

11
THE CHOICE
    WHEN JIMMY GOT HOME , Ma knew at once that he was upset about something. He tried to tell her about the terrible things he’d seen in Sackville Street and about the strange, mad atmosphere. He couldn’t