Nandagiri, December 1920
Father Jerome would never forget that wretched day in August 1920.
He had been summoned urgently by Colonel Aylmer,
and on hearing of the unrest, had run nearly all the way across
the parade grounds and into the wet canteen that served as the
impromptu headquarters of the mutiny, only to be confronted
by that hothead Sergeant Tom Nolan.
Still panting with the exertion, Father Jerome had begun
with a straightforward appeal to good sense. ‘Tom, if you and
the men feel so strongly about the goings on back home with
the Black and Tans, there are plenty of other ways of making
your feelings known. What you’ve done is nothing short of
mutiny – you know the punishment for that.’
The priest sat down on the chair that had been pushed
forward for him and caught his breath before starting again.
‘Look here, I know Colonel…
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