Two Walls and a Roof (13 page)

President John F Kennedy was coming to Ireland and he had already given the go ahead for the landing on the Moon,
so
we became utterly fascinated by the Americans
’
work on rockets. We decided to make our own very large rocket and try and impress the great man
. M
aybe we might later be given a job in NASA, but to ensure success we would build our version of a Saturn 5 Missile and shoot it up in the air in front of a military chopper, hoping that the pilot would see our abilities and report the great news to the President.

We stole the lower section of a drain pipe
,
probably from Tadgh Hurley’s shed
,
and
mixed a load of the powders as
rocket fuel. Kyrle beat in the top of the dra
in pipe to make it into a point
or nose cone
.
I added a stick and wired it to the side of the tube just like you see in today’s fireworks
and I think we painted the words Cork on the side of the pipe as well
. We were ahead of our time except for the Americans and Chinese.

The real worry for us though was that this rocket was huge and very dangerous
. W
e knew that if we had got the proportio
ns wrong, simply because of the amount of
powder
being used, it could easily become a bomb rather than a rocket.
Each of us knew the danger and it was scaring us, b
ut there was no turning back then
as everyone
was talking about the President
and
we wanted to really impress him,
just in case he needed a forward base to keep the Russians in check. We drew straws to decide who would light the fuse. This fuse was a string dipped in paraffi
n oil, the good old reliable in
pl
entiful supply
in Ger
’
s shed. Kyrle and I both hoped that Martin would win the honour, but he didn’t draw the short straw. That left it between us
:
I cheated and made Kyrle do the fuse work. He knew I cheated and I knew that he did, but I made him do it anyway. The plan was to launch this missile some distance in fr
ont of the chopper, as it
always took the same path over the town, and hope the pilot saw it fly up in front of him
,
when he would later report to the great man
.

Our launch pad was a little domed hill inside the local quarry beh
ind Sadler
’
s shop on Buttevant
’
s Main S
treet. We would set it up on the hill, then climb up the side of the quarry face and tell Kyrle when it was coming from a distance. He would light the fuse
,
allowing him time to get back up the cliff face too so that we could all watch as it flew off directly ahead of the chopper. I was about thirteen, Kyrle was twelve and Martin was nine. We figured on immediate fame, never thinking of the consequences if it actually hit the helicopter, as we were sure it would not
. A
t the very least we might be recognized as rocket experts and meet the great Irish American President.

Soon Martin and I are on the cliff top watching and hearing the chopper approach
.
I roared down
,
“Light the fuse and get up quick
,
tis on the way”. Kyrle lit the string, and to this day I don’t know how
, but
the flame seemed to jump ahead of itself
. M
aybe it was petrol we had mistaken for oil. Kyrle saw this too and ran like hell for the cliff face, but he never made it up. Suddenly there was a huge flash and a massive bang, and he vanished in a white cloud of
smoke. I got a terrible fright.
I was sure he was dead and I had cheated him, and it should have been me dead not him. I tore down the cliff shouting
, “
Kyrle
,
Kyrle where are you?
”
  After what seemed like an eternity, we heard the voice from the bushes and briars way down below at the base of the hill. I could not see him still. Then he emer
ged from the nettles and briars as black as night
with two white eyes staring back at me and says, “The bloody thing blew up, the fuse, the fuse ran too fast
. P
ull me up will ya, I’m stung alive”. Somehow we dragged him up. He was covered in scratches and his clothes were singed
,
as was the back of his hair which had turned black. I think I laughed out loud with great relief that he was alive.  As we climbed back up, he
says to me “I know you cheated
”
.
I felt really ashamed but continued to deny the undeniable. That was the wors
t experience we had in our bomb-
making phase, but it was not the only one. I often thought later in life what did the pilot really think when he saw that flash. One thing was sure though, President Kennedy never did meet us, and on the day he died, what I remember most was how c
lose we had come to meeting him and the
deep sorrow
that
filled my heart for the loss of such a great
man
.

At an
early stage we took to making ‘g
illies
’
or what are called go-
carts today. The aim always was for
maximum speed. We had few parts:
usually an old pram
,
a few boards and the father’s endless supply of six inch nails. A
six inch nail became our friend. W
e called it a ‘six incher’. It could be used as a nail, a hook
,
an axel
,
a u
-
bolt even a drill when reddened in the fire and used to bore a hole in a bit of wood. The father swore by those nails and always had a collection in his tool drawer in the back kitchen. He had a wrench that he called a geegaw
. T
his was an adjustable spanner with two big jaws and where he got that name from I have no clue
,
but somehow it appeared fitting and he used this wrench constantly. He had a small twist drill
,
but it had only one bit and if that was the wrong size we resorted to the red hot ‘nail drilling’ by the fire.

Gillie building was becoming a fad and I think we were the forerunners of today’s bo
y racers. We had an arch rival g
illie maker known as Charlie Mack. He lived up the street from us and his brothers
,
being mechanics
,
always had loads of wheels
,
axles and excellent parts. They were also geniuses at anything mechanical and Charlie began to make
g
illies like us. One time he told us t
hat he was making a Henry Ford M
odel T and that it would blow our ones off the street. Kyrle took exception to this insult, and he discusse
d with me how we could build a g
ill
i
e based on some Roman film that had a sea battle in it. In that film they had built
ships with battering rams and they sa
nk all round them. He called it his secret weapon. He felt we should ram Mack first chance we got. That mea
nt us building a battering ram g
illie, but how to make the ramming part was the problem.

I immediately began building the frame, but kept seeing Kyrle searching day after day for what he was calling his ‘secret weapon’. I had no idea how he was going to make the weapon, but I built away and finally got the frame completed. It had a wooden base with a cord steering rope
,
and it turned on the inevitable six inch nail. The back axle also was held by the nails and I was all for taking it for a spin, but no, not Kyrle.

He said he had seen Mack’s Ford and it looked awesome. Charlie had used a large wooden tea chest for the body, and it even had a roof and was painted black, or so Kyrle kept telling me.  When I finally saw it, I thought it was awesome too. That day Mack had sped past us gaining speed from the slope on our street and as he did so, Kyrle says
,
“That’s it, I got it, I see his weak point”. He made off down the town to Big Kyrl
’
s shed and arrived back with a length of two inch iron pipe. Big Kyrl used these pipes as rollers for moving headstones where he cut them into sections and Kyrle had stolen one of them.

Kyrle began to hacksaw like mad. Then I realized what he was doing
;
he was making a battering ram just like the Romans di
d, but it would be made of iron and
far more dangerous. He kept at it
,
sawing and filing till it was like a spear, and then using the usual six inchers, we mounted th
is spike onto the front of our g
illie. All this work was taking place down our back yard safe from the prying eyes of Mack.

Another check on the street showed Mack once again passing and enjoying his driving. He passed us again as we stood at the door and gave us a smug wave and Kyrle says to me, “Ok that’s it, get me up to Fitzs
’
, I’m ramming him
next time”. Out comes our new g
illie and we p
ushed it all the way up to Fitz
s
’
shop on the highest part of the street. Then Kyrle challenges Charlie to a ‘race’. He had ab
solutely no intention of a race;
he wanted a war. By then Charlie was staring at our pointed spear and I’m not sure if he was scared or not, but because of Kyrle’s taunting he agreed and lined up his Ford beside our battering ram.

I can
’
t remember who pushed him off, but off he went down the stree
t. Kyrle had whispered to me, “Let Mack off first
and then keep on pushing”. As Charlie sped away, I gave a mighty push to Kyrle and ran along pushing as hard as I could. We are rapidly gaining on Charlie and Kyrle starts shouting
,
“Julius Caesar, Julius Caesar”, and when he’s almost parallel with Charlie, he suddenly turns sideways and the spear goes clean through Charlie’s wooden tea chest
. H
ow he wasn’t impal
ed I’ll never know. At the bang
I tripped and fell
,
and last thing I saw was the two of them locked
in a mortal combat, with both g
illies careering across the road glued to each other, and Kyrle is now waving his fist in the Roman salute. Mack’s ‘boat’ had been sunk. How they escaped the cars beats me too, but in those days there were fewer of them. They disentangled outside May Sheehan
’
s and Charlie threatened us with his br
other for wrecking his Ford, so
we laid low for a while.

It did not take long for us to rise again though, and this time Kyrle wanted to build a
‘super g
illie
’
. He had the idea that if we used huge wheels on the back and tiny wheels on the front it would have to go faster and it would look like a Roman chariot as well. We managed to find two big bicycle wheels in the dump and once again we we
re modifying the battering ram gillie
by adding the big wheels at the back and much smaller ones for the front. T
he word was out that the Cahills were building a ‘s
uper
g
illie
’
and planned to race it down the Ballalley lane. I was a good bit worried at this test run, as the Ballalley is very steep and ends on the main road. Besides that, it
’
s quite a short run too, so how were we going to stop it at the bottom of the lane. Kyrle dismissed all this as nerves, and he just wanted the speed.  I wanted a good few plays on this new
g
illie myself as it looked like a chariot without sides, so I really
did press him on how to stop it:
all to no avail. We planned a Saturday test run and a good crowd of lads gathered on the top of the lane, including Mack and Joe Hurley
,
who was still not speaking to me then due to the donkey incident being fresh in my mind. Everyone was amazed at our design. Doubtful heads were huddled in discussion, Mack among them. Our hands were being shaken and more lads wer
e nodding that it was the best g
illie ever seen in the town. Even Joe Hurley
, my ex-
best friend
,
tried to make peace with me, hoping for a go on it later, but I refused. We were the local heroes
,
even if only for one day.

We had agreed that Kyrle would do the test run as he said it was his
g
illie
,
and in truth it was. I still maintained that we should have some way of stopping it though, and then inspiration dawned on me. I got the idea that he should use a big concrete block attached to a rope as a brake.