“BANG!” the shot rang out ominously.
As it flew towards us I couldn’t see what it was but it didn’t matter now as it was dead. I strolled down the mountain but as I ambled my along I tripped on a jagged stone, I lost my balance and fell sideways. I rolled down the mountain and I appeared in a unfamiliar area. It was surrounded with hills and the bird was lying there. I still didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t actually dead, it was alive. The bird turned its long neck and hissed at me. I ran away and I never saw the bird again.
There I was, fighting in the GPO alongside a true rebel, James Connolly. We were taking part in the Easter Rising of 1916. Connolly was a terrific leader and I was assigned to him because I was a member of his Irish Citizen Army. By now the British had over 16,000 soldiers but we only had 1600 rebels. It was the Friday in the Rising and there I was in the GPO. But all of a sudden I heard a bang coming in our direction. As it flew towards us I couldn’t see what it was but then I realised it was a cannon ball. The GPO was on fire. How could I get out? Would I live?