 NBC will interrupt all its programs to bring you the latest news. And now, words at war. So that's what has brought you, Tom and Mira, to the gallows. To the end of the Hangman's Rope. Was it worth it, Tom? Did you prove anything? I wonder if you could speak now. What would you say? Sure did indecent for a corpse to speak, especially when it's hanging by the neck from the Hangman's Rope. I'd say yes. We proved something. I'd say it was worth it. I know there was a big war going on in the world. I know that our fight was regarded merely as a minor disturbance in the modern country of Ireland. But man, make no mistake about it. The principles were the same. Our fight was the fight of the little people everywhere. And those of us that died in it, we died for freedom too. And maybe in our story, there's a lesson for the common man everywhere. The National Broadcasting Company, in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime, presents another program in the widely discussed series, Words at War, dramatizing the most representative books to come out of this great world conflict. Tonight, Jim Phelan's story of neutral Ireland during these war years, Banshee Harvest. Mr. Phelan's story is pure fiction. He makes no bones about that. But as he indicates in a forward to his book, it is based on his own bitter experiences. After years of residence in England, I was coming back to the island of my childhood, to the mountains of Kilavola. I was coming back as an officer of the Irish police, as Captain Arthur Curtin, product of Eaton and Oxford. Coming to visit my uncle Barry Muswell, a cattle rancher whom I hadn't seen for years. This was to be a holiday before taking up my official duties in Dublin. It was just as simple as that, I thought. I was just coming back for a visit. Actually, in this world at war, I was stepping back into another century. I trudged up the mountain trail and came to the crossroads. There was some kind of a meeting in progress. About two dozen men were grouped around a speaker, tall man with hair prematurely white. They paid no attention to me, and I thought maybe let them have their own way. How long will you be going from morning to night slaving and working your fingers to the bone and for what may I ask? I'll tell you, to keep the landlords in style while you starve and your children go around in rags and tatters. Somebody with your scraps of land and the rest working his hired hands on the ranches. When will you be men and demand to be treated as men, not cattle? When will you take what belongs to you? You remember 22. I had time a minute. In three years in jail too. Aye, Donnelly. Jail for you and the gallows for others. Not one man of you here, but had a father or an uncle or a brother in it. So, let me go back. The landlords were grinding us into dust. So what did we do? We fought to throw out the British who were keeping the landlords in power. And then, with the IRA and the Free State, after fighting a civil war, what do we find? We've the same masters being supported and sustained in power by the revolutionary government we ourselves put in. Am I right or wrong? You're right. And today, we're as bad officers. We who fought a revolution to win freedom. And what are we going to do about it? They say there's a war being fought for freedom. Where's our freedom? Let me ask you that. Let me ask... Insight in the people, is it? Well, there'll be no more of that, or I won't fire the next shot in the air. I believe that. Be an landlord yourself. You're not for free speech. I don't believe in an insurrection and the like of you stern up my workmen. All right, scatter now. Scatter you gang of criminals. For the name of the law, I'll... There you are, men. If you need the proof of what we've been saying, there it is. There you see. I've warned you, Tamomira. Now I'll show you. Maybe this will... Put down that gun, you... Are you mad? I killed that man. Yeah, it wouldn't be the first. And what if I did kill him? And who may I ask for you to come interfere? Who put down that gun? I must ask you to accompany me to the nearest village. Oh, to the nearest village is it. Take my advice, young fella. And clear out of here. And as for you rats, don't let me be here any more of this agitated or by heaven above I'll... Get that gun. You come with me. What the devil do you mean? I happen to be a police officer. Police officer? Oh, well, man, why didn't you say so? Well, these is the rats that you've been looking for right here. I don't know anything about that. I'm a police officer. Now I've witnessed an attempt at shooting which you'll have to explain. My name is Curtin. Captain Arthur Curtin. And I must ask you to... Curtin? Captain Arthur Curtin is it? Yes. Oh, that's a good one. You're my sister Marion's kid. What? So they've made it English or out of you, huh? You're... You're Barry Muswell, my uncle. And who else? Lad, I sent a car to meet your train. I took an earlier train. But look here, uncle. This thing needs explaining. You shot at that man there in the middle of a peaceful meeting of village people discussing their own affair. Lad, will you not be talking nonsense? These is a gang of robbers wanting to steal my estate the same as they did in 22. Village people, huh? So that's what Eaton and Oxford has done for you. Not to know these is my own workman. Enough now. Come along home, Arthur, me lad. Well, I suppose I... Well, uh... Good day, gentlemen. Come along. Gentlemen, is it? You've a lot to learn, Arthur. With my uncle, Barry Muswell. I walked towards the great manor house in the distance, feeling that we had just turned our backs on the makings of another revolution. Shake hands with me nephew, Sir Morris. Arthur, this is Sir Morris Fernwart. He has the big place across the way. How do you do, Sir Morris? Welcome, Captain Curtin. You'll have a... Grab more, Arthur, huh? I don't have to ask Sir Morris. Thank you, Uncle. There. There you are. Ah. Well, sit down. Hey! Welch is not a bad old world, and Lairdon's not a bad old country after all, huh? Really? Well, from the way you ran it and raved at those men this afternoon, I had the impression Ireland was entirely populated by robbers and jailbirds. Ah, it's talking about the country I am. Let them kind of rat you off the crossroads. But they're the people, aren't they, Uncle? When you say France, you mean the French people, don't you? You say Ireland, you... I mean the Dacian people. Such as yourself, no doubt. Have your joke, Arthur. But maybe Sir Morris will tell you what kind of rats Tom O'Mear and his gang are. Morris got 5,000 acres, and the same murder and gang divided up his place during the trouble of 22. What about us, Sir Morris? Oh, it's quite true, Captain Curtin. Matter of fact, your uncle's account of things is rather an understatement. Eh, what did I tell you, Arthur? They did take my place in 22, and your uncles and several others, too, but not without some reason, surely. It just doesn't happen. No, no one can make me believe that peaceful working man can suddenly turn into... Robbers and murderers! That's what they are. No, Sir Morris, I can't believe that. Captain Curtin, do you know anything about Irish history? Naturally. But perhaps not recent Irish history. Well, if the peasants around here ever got to trust you, and I don't think they ever would, they'd tell you a few things. The landowners at one time were sustained by the British. Then in 1920, the Irish people got rid of the British and set up a free state. In 1922, a civil war broke between the free status and the Irish Republican army. The outcome was that the free state gave us the backing of the law, just as the British had done. The IRA went underground, and it's there to this day. That's the gospel truth. Come, drink up, drink up. And so we have today the support of the very government the people themselves put in. And so the agrarian problem remains what it always was, is that it? Freedom remains this. Two people can't own the same piece of land. That's elementary mathematics. That's your agrarian problem. Yes, but look here. Is it right that one small lot of people own all the land and the great mass of the people? There are robbers and murder and cut roads, every one of them. Now let's have a drink, talk about some more pleasant things. I listened to them in amazement. There was a war going on in the world, a war about freedom and slavery. But to hear some more as my uncle talk, you couldn't believe that this was the day of Hitler. I was eager to know more about these peasants, my uncle called robbers and murderers. But as I walked along the mountain roads and through the village, the men avoided me. Old women crossed themselves, and the children looked at me with terror in their eyes. You see, I was a police officer. Then, on the road one day, I met her. You're Curtin, aren't you? Yes, and you? Curtin's Carberry. Oh, I'm very happy to meet you. I think I've heard my uncle mention you a father. Barry Muswell had little good to say about Mulla Carberry. How did you know? They hate each other. But your father's a landowner. I thought the landowners hated only the peasants. You don't know my father. Yes, he's a landowner. But his sympathies are with the peasants. He pays them a living wage. What are your sympathies, Ms. Cranberry? Not with Barry Muswell and his kind. Why do you become a police officer, and let yourself be used by such as Muswell and Sir Morris and Prendegas and the rest of the landowners? Why don't you go back to England? Why don't you clear out? Well, right now I happen to be on a holiday. But when I start to work, I don't think it means that I'm against the peasants. Perhaps if I do an honest job, I can help them. How little you know. I suppose. But perhaps while I'm here, I can learn something about the peasants and their problems. You never could. Well, I'm going to try. You know, I almost believe you're sincere. I assure you I am. You really want to find out about the peasants? I do indeed. All right. They trust me. And maybe I can persuade them to trust you. Come on. We'll start right now. You can talk to him, come on. I'll vouch for him. All right then, Captain. Here's what it is, and it's simple. If he's careful how much food he puts in his mouth, the peasants and his family, from the four-year-old to the grandmother, working from dawn till dark, can produce enough to live ten months of the year. But there are twelve months in a year. Sure. There's twelve months in a year. But it will be your duty as a police officer supporting the landlords to prove that there's only ten months in a year. So are my daughters a set of capital policemen, eh? Oh, I shouldn't be serious. Very well, Captain. Yes? As you say, I'm a landowner. There's no difference. I grow food and hire men and women and pay them. The others raise cattle. You don't need many men for that. Large profits are no risk. Just beef for countries at war, they say. That's ranching and peasants rotting in hunger and slavery and craving a bit of ground to grow food. And with the guards of the ranchers roaming around with their rifles to see that they don't get it. All right, Captain. Now if you want to see what life is like in this instance, I'll show you. We're going to a wedding party. A wedding party? Now what can I learn at a wedding party? Come along. You'll find out. Tala-tala. Here you are, Captain. Thank you, Tom. Well, I'd like to drink a toast to the bride. Where is she? She was here a minute ago. I think she's outfitting the pigs now. She'll be back in a minute. After the ceremony, the bride came home and laid aside her good dress and put on her work clothes. Then she started doing all the chores, feeding the pigs and chickens and washing and... Good heavens can't just stop working for her own wedding party. Doesn't she have any honeymoon? That is a honeymoon. Tomorrow morning she'll be up at four to work for the rest of her life. Yet she's worked at harder work than this for 18 years. So she could buy Dominic and the pigs. What do you mean, buy? Just that. Peasants don't marry for love. They just can't. It's not as good as London society does. Only the stumps are smaller. A man can't slave all his life to get a plow. Two pigs and four calves just to go and squander all that wealth on some woman. So a girl has to buy a man. She gets the money by labour and the fields with the whole servant. Then when she finds a man who'll accept the sum she's got... Who? This Bridget, the bride. What's she doing now? Why, oh, she's going to have a cup of tea while she mends that shirt. She's in her 30s. Her husband is over 40. Peasants marry late. They can't afford to get married young. But sheer hard labour keeps them from worrying too much about it. It's an awful price to pay for some artists there to London three times a year. And his wife strips the riviera in peace time. Oh, now, listen, that's just bitterness. People don't have to be peasant farmers, do they? Nobody asked them. Why can't they get jobs? On your uncle's ranch, your fernwood, your fendigas, you poor imbecile. That's what the ranchers want them to do. That's why they're slowly murdering them. So they'll chuck their wretched hopeless little farms and go to work with their aunties. Wouldn't it be common sense to get rid of this backbreaking on the economic way of making a living? Wouldn't it be better off as hired hams? Why, these people are 18 centric. They have no place in the modern world. Wait, take another look at Bridget, the bride. She worked for fernwood. Her wages were six quid. Six quid? Well, for a girl, six pounds on lunches by no means of them. Six quid a year. That was her wage. To buy that, she had to work 18 hours a day, seven days a week, or three months just to buy one pot. Good Lord. How tasty this pig's cheek. Thanks, but really, I don't... Oh, don't be bashful, there's plenty more. Who'll have... It's the only meat they can afford. Hey, a bit of the crazier, Arthur. Not just now, uncle. Very well. Arthur, I've been meaning to have a little talk with you. Yes, uncle. I'll be candid with you. I don't like the way you've been running around with this carbary woman and her peasant friends. You don't? No, I don't. Now, Arthur, we're going to be busy here, rounding up the cattle and the like of that. And there'll be no time to be entertained in guests. Oh. I think you better go to Dublin tomorrow. I'm sorry, uncle, but I don't think I will. You don't think? Hey, isn't it time that you'd be getting to Dublin? Take up your duties as a police officer? Not quite. Well, there'll be no place for you here. Well, I'll stay at the inn in the village. Well, now, how would that make me look? I don't know, uncle, but I'm not going. I think there's going to be some trouble around here, and I'm going to stay and see about it. There'll be no more trouble. Then why have you and Furnit and Premigas been bringing in these gunmen? Well, well, suppose there is trouble. We know how to deal with it. Why are you going to deal with it? Well, now, since you must know, I'll tell you. Yes, there'll be trouble. Brought hand by Tom O'Mearae and his gang. And when it starts, they'll take to the mountains. But we'll blast them out. We did it before, and we'll do it again. Ever hear of the IRA? Ha! So O'Mearae's counting on the Irish Republican Army to help them, is he? Well, never fear. The IRA is not going to come out of his hiding for the likes of O'Mearae and his gang of Amadas. They won't strike until they have a chance to win. And they know they haven't a chance in this affair. But what if they should? They won't, they won't, I tell you. Now will you be off to Dublin and not be interfered? No, uncle. I'm going to stay. I'm going to see this thing through. Ah, bah! The incident came. Just as Tom O'Mearae said it would. The ranchers' guards tried to provoke a fight at the church out Tom O'Mearae's. But peasants wouldn't be tricked. They fed to the mountains for the battle and knew it was unavoidable. I went with them, with O'Mearae, with Kieran, and Constance Carberry and the rest. Why do you smile, Arthur? Was I smiling? Well, Con, I suppose I was thinking how funny it is for me to be up here with you and the others, fighting my own kind of people. There's nothing funny about it. It may cost you your life. I know, but it all seems so unreal. Like something out of a comic opera. As far as I can see, it's not a military operation at all. Just run up to the mountain. What's to prevent the police and the ranch owners from just ignoring us? We can't do them any harm up here. Oh, yes we can. The ranchers have no laborers today. They're up here, armed. Instead of on the ranchers are in jail. That's a land war. Sounds more like a strike. It is a strike, in a way. It's a... oh, hello, Tom. Oh, hello, Tom. Captain Curtin. How are things going, Tom? All right, so far. But what happens in the end depends on the IRA. You've sent a messenger, Tom? I have that. If he gets to them, I know they'll help us. Aye. Motorcycles and lorries on the road. It's the land owners. They're wasting no time. Do your postmen. Aye. Do you want to be in on this, Captain? I'm in on everything from now on. Take cover, Constance. Yes, Arthur, I will. I was next to Tom on the area so we waited for the lorries to come within range. Tom? Tom, how did they find us so quickly? They've a guide that's certain. A guide? You don't mean one of your own people. Aye. Hold your fire, no men, until they're in range. I see them. It's Tim Whaley guiding them. I'm in a clan. It's your own father-in-law. Tim Whaley. He did the same thing in 22. Wait, no men. Wait. No men. Let them have it. The God Dominic's fallen law. He turned back the police. But next day, the guide was a woman. As we waited for him to come within range, everyone quiet but tense. I looked at the man next to me. It was Dominic, the bridegroom of not many evenings before. Then I looked again and recognized the woman who was guiding the police. Dominic! Dominic, don't shoot! Don't you see who she is? Aye. I see who she is. Dominic, that was... Aye. I've killed my own bride. A traitor that she was like her father before. Good Lord. Let them have that grenade now. I shot them! Well Arthur, you're in it now. In it up to your neck. How does it feel to be an outlaw? Well, as Tom here would say, Constance, it's just a job of work. And so it is. Frankly, Tom, this whole thing strikes me as just silly down at bottom. Doing stunts like today's doesn't really force the government of your views or does it? It's not the government. We have no real quarrel with Dev's government. They're trying to do right by the peasants. But it takes a long time. And most of the people is crooked. You mean misrepresentation? Huh. Perhaps I have more knowledge of that side than you. Well, they got by wish you had, Skipper. You don't know the dirt of your own kind of people yet. They're cheating on us, and on Devil Air, and on the English that thinks they're their friends. But Tom, all this is just lunacy. I'm in it because I think you're right. But it's still lunacy. Why you told me yourself that you people have been doing this for generations. Well, this is just one more generation. You haven't got a dog's chance. Oh, so you've been listening to that baby murdering uncle of yours after all. No, no, no, Miss Constance. Captain Curtin is here with us. And that's enough for me. Not for me, Tom. Listen, Curtin, this isn't just one more generation. We'll win this time. Con, I hope you will. But look, I'm not here just because I'm in love with you. Oh, darling. I'm here because I believe in Tom Amira and you and all the others. I'm here because I'm not the kind of police officer who helps to break the law, even if the law breaks him. Oh, I know. I know, darling. I'm sorry. At last they came. What Tom Amira had been praying for. They're here. They're here. A glass of 200 of them from the IRA. Are you sure about that? They got the password. We sent them by the messenger. Oh, man. They're alive. Tom, we've got nothing to worry about now. They're fine. Big shrapnel men. Come on, Tom. The leader is waiting to meet you. There were big men. Apparently from the west of Ireland, big and dangerous looking. They carried themselves with a military bearing and kept their guns by their sides. They're the fine body of men you have there, sir. Fine discipline. Will you have a drop of water? We never drink in a mission like this. I wish I could take the same from my lads. Look at them. Drinking their fill. Oh, but I suppose we have nothing to worry about now. No. Not now, Amira. It's time to be turning in. I'll sit up a while, Amira. All right. All right. Good night, sir. Good night. I wondered about these IRA men. A military bearing, a discipline. It was most unusual for a band of guerrilla fighters. I was wondering when I fell off to sleep. What? What's this? You take off these handcuffs. What's the meaning of this? Take them outside with the others. Yes, sir. Come on. I should have known that. At least I should have known that these men were professionals. Get over there, Amira. All right. But one question, please. Am I to understand that you're not from the IRA? We're the police. We captured your messenger. Oh, what a fool I am. Tom. Tom is not your fault. Leave me alone, flipper. Unless you can get a gun and caught me. Present leader. That's what I was. And to be fooled like this by the police, just when we had them licked, them and their government friends, and their Nessie friends in Germany. No, I'm after letting them down. Letting home down. Friends in England. We told them. The Nessies had been spending money like war, planning to have a murderous big submarine campaign for Ireland. They'd have got it, too. Far and for us. I don't understand. What is it, Constance? The one thing that I just can't stand is publicity, Arthur. They've got by for generations by blaming everything on the peasants. And they're in with the Nessies. And we'd have been blamed for anything that happened. Our plan was to spread the land war all over the south of Ireland. Neither Dublin nor London could have been fooled then. They'd have had to show their hand at last. But for me, being a trust and fool, you were right, Captain Curtin. It's just one more generation now. Tom. I hope this time it's something more than that. But I was wrong. The leaders were shot or hanged. Constance Carberry of the black hair, the flashing eyes among them. The rest went back to work and resumed their miserable little lives as slaves of the ranchers. Me? My chance to escape came. How did I get away? You forget I was the nephew of Barry Muswell, a man who stood for everything I had come to hate. And you, Tom Amir, swinging at the end of the hangman's rope, what would you say now? Was it worth it? Did you prove anything? In decent, perhaps, were a corpse to be speaking. But yet, maybe we did prove something. To be sure, our fight took place in an obscure little corner of Ireland. And the stakes were small as you would measure them on the outside. And sure, there was a bigger war going on in the world. But I'm wondering if the issues were just the same. The common man struggling for the right to earn a decent living, to raise his children as he saw best. To send them to school and to hold up his head as a free man. Maybe we didn't prove anything, except that it was worth fighting for, even though we lost. And to all the people like us throughout the world, let me say, keep up the fight. For Sunday, you're going to win. Tonight on Words at War, we've presented a dramatization of the novel Banshee Harvest by Jim Phelan. A story of pure fiction based on the author's own bitter experience. The radio adaptation was written by Gerald Holland. The cast included Mary Jane Higby, John Moore, John Connery, John McBride, Joe Latham, Alfred Shirley, Martin Begley, Spencer Bentley, and John McQuade. It was changed and played by William Meter, and the entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Leader. Next week, Words at War will present the radio dramatization of that important and controversial book, Full Employment in a Free Society by William H. Beveridge. This series of programs is brought to you in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime by the National Broadcasting Company and the independent radio stations associated with the NBC network. John Patrick Costello speaking, this is the National Broadcasting Company.