From Mountain to Lough Read online

  © 2009 Matt Duggan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems—without the prior written permission of the Author’s estate.

  Epub ISBN: 9781908282323

  Mobi ISBN: 9781908282330

  A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the National Library.

  Published by Original Writing Ltd., Dublin, 2009.

  Printed by MPG Biddles Ltd., King’s Lynn, Norfolk, UK

  MATT DUGGAN

  HISTORIAN, POET,

  WRITER AND WAR VETERAN

  A Resumé

  By Michael Doogan

  MATT DUGGAN WAS BORN IN MAGUIRESBRIDGE, County Fermanaghon the 11th July 1914. His parents, Joe and Julia Duggan, née Farrell, owned a public house in Maguiresbridge at that time. In 1920 the pub was destroyed by fire. Joe Duggan sold the premises and moved his family to Glasgow where most of the family settled.

  However, in 1923 Matt returned to Ireland to live with his uncle and aunt, Michael and Jane Duggan, in the townland of Mullyneeny, near Derrylin in County Fermanagh. Michael and Jane had no children of their own.

  Matt then became enrolled at Derrylin Public Elementary School and continued his education there until he was fourteen years old. In his teenage years Matt was a keen reader, and continued to educate himself. At the same time he looked after his uncle’s farm and attended to the usual farm chores, such as looking after the animals, growing the crops, cutting and winning the turf in the mountain bog, and also cutting, saving and storing the hay, which was essential winter feed for the cattle and horses.

  Matt subsequently sat and passed an examination in Dublin, something like the present-day Leaving Cert; which entitled him to enrol for teacher training in Dublin. He declined that offer, and returned to Derrylin where he continued to work on the farm.

  In 1938, Matt decided to go to London, and seek his fortune there. He found work as a bread server, a job which appealed to him because it brought him into contact with people of different cultures which he was eager to explore. It was also in London that he met again, Rosaleen McBrien from Doon, Derrylin who had been his childhood sweetheart.

  On September 1st 1939 with the outbreak of the Second World War, everything was thrown into chaos. Emphasis was immediately switched to the war effort, and it was then that men like Matt Duggan were faced with three options. He could take the train and boat back to Ireland, join up or be forcibly conscripted into military service. Matt choose to enlist and he married Rosaleen McBrien before being posted abroad. They were married and had their wedding reception in London. Owen Mc Brien, Rosaleen’s brother, who was also working in London, was the ideal best man, and Matt’s cousin Nancy Clarke was bridesmaid. There were enough Derrylin people around at the time to make up a sizeable wedding group.

  Matt soon found himself in training in the skills of war, like weapon handling, map reading, tactics, etc. What was to follow was both eventful and serious. The early months of the war took Matt to many new places, the most notable being the battle and subsequent retreat from Dunkirk. It was there that Matt met his brother John, who was in a Scottish regiment. He also met his cousin Georgie Martin and one or two others from Derrylin. The memories of that day in June 1940 were to remain with him for the rest of his life.

  Other battles and events were also to have an impact on him. The most significant was during the North African Campaign when Matt’s unit was advancing through the desert and the unexpected took place. During a sand storm they moved so far forward, that when the storm was over they found themselves surrounded by the enemy. An exchange of fire took place and they soon discovered that they were greatly outnumbered and were forced to surrender. This was obviously a very traumatic experience.

  Matt told me that P.O.W.’s were invariably poorly fed, overworked and lousy, in the full sense of the word! Nevertheless, some good did come about. It so happened that a young Londoner, who was completely illiterate, was in the same billet, and having discovered this, Matt set about introducing this chap to literacy, and in a matter of months he had this boy taught sufficiently to write a letter home to his wife. No mean achievement, and it certainly proves that Matt could have been a fine teacher.

  One evening when theprisoners came back tocamp from work, one chap complained of having a severepain in his right abdomen. Luckily for him, a doctor hadbeen taken prisoner with them. His diagnosis was appendicitis and then the problem arose, how would he operate. The doctor, Matt, and a few of the boys held a conference and immediately decided that they would make a determined effort to save the young man’s life. By a stroke of luck, the prison guard on duty that night was a friendly one, as some were, so they approached him for help. With a lot of effort and daring on his part, he was able to produce a candle, a razor blade, and a needle and thread. With these crude instruments, the doctor proceeded to operate. The prisoner was in such acute pain that he offered no resistance. Using four men lying across the patient as an anaesthetic, the doctor duly removed the inflamed appendix and stitched the wound with the needle and thread.

  Next morning the same prison guard was willing to account for the prisoner who was unable to appear at whatever work they were doing and he continued to cover for him until he was able to resume work. It must be said that Matt and some of his fellow prisoners had built up a good rapport with most of the German guards mainly by sharing their Red Cross parcels with them. The prisoner who required surgery did live to return home, although Matt saw good healthy men die in the camp from home-sickness.

  When the war finally came to an end in 1945, Matt and his wife Rosaleen returned to Derrylin, where Matt received a well deserved hero’s welcome. He lost no time in picking up where he had left off, and went about renewing his old acquaintances. Soon he had found rented accommodation where he and his wife were to make a temporary home for themselves.

  His first job was as a helper on a milk lorry. This pleased him because it took him into contact with people he had been brought up with and indeed some he had gone to school with. It was also a rehabilitation exercise, to help him forget his horrific experiences during the war. His reluctance to speak about the war meant that even his closest friends were never made aware of the promotions he received while serving, or the rank he held at the end. The medals he won were given to his children to play with, and needless to say were lost many years ago.

  In the year 1950, Matt found the job he really wanted when he was appointed full-time Postman for Derrylin and Teemore areas. This was a cycling post, which meant that he was responsible for the delivery of letters and parcels in an area which included a large section of Doon, Aughyoule, and Molly Mountains. Due to the fact that at least three of the roads leading up to large townlands were dead end roads, he found that he could make better time by carrying his bicycle across fields for about a mile, while still delivering letters. He could then complete his area and return to the lowlands and the post office.

  One day while carrying out this routine, on the Molly Mountain, he suffered a stroke and fell from his bicycle. He had been lying there for an hour before being found by a man who lived near by. This man raised the alarm and summoned a doctor and an ambulance. Matt was rushed to the Erne Hospital in Enniskillen, and later transferred to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast where he was to have a brain operation. The surgeon there decided that Matt did not require surgery and he was returned to the Erne Hospital the following day.

  Although Matt was only forty-two years old, it was generally accepted that he would never be able to walk again. Thankfully, he regained consciousness, and continued to improve day
by day. After some weeks he was discharged and returned home. Once more, his fighting spirit was evident, and instead of sitting down and accepting his handicap, he immediately set himself little tasks like standing up and taking two or three steps. Bit by bit he increased the distance, and in some weeks he was able to walk outside his house. Soon Matt was able to boast that he had walked to the kesh that day. This was a great achievement because he had covered a distance of about 150 yards. No wonder he was pleased. The kesh was a small wooden bridge over a stream, along the main road, and formed part of the driveway to his home.

  Time passed, his recovery became more rapid, and he and his wife were able to walk up and down the main road. He then set about getting back on his bicycle. He wheeled his bicycle up and down the road, often accompanied by his daughters, until he was able to get up on it and cycle again. He had then reached the point where no-one could hold him back. In about six months he had made the necessary arrangements and was back at his post.

  Some time later, the postal authorities decided to reduce the number of postmen and issued some of them with vans. Matt was one of the lucky ones. The van was a great asset to him because he would arrive home less tired and was able to devote more time to his writing which he could take more seriously.

  His wife and family, which had grown to four children, were always his first priority. The small farm that he had purchased in 1950 was not neglected either, and the cattle and the crops were well looked after. All this he did despite being disabled to the extent that he had very little feeling in his left side. Both his arm and leg were affected to the extent that he didn’t know how many letters he was holding in his left hand, or whether he was wearing a sock or shoe on his left foot.

  In the early 1970’s he began writing short stories and had a number of them published. He was a regular contributor to the local papers like the Fermanagh Herald and the Anglo Celt . He also had his work published in the New Irish Writing page of the Irish Press . By the time of his death he had developed a strong rapport with people like David Marcus and others. He regularly had his poems published by the Post Office trade union magazine Outpost .

  Unfortunately, his life was cut short by the dreaded disease, cancer. After a comparatively short illness which lasted less than twelve months, Matt died in June 1979, just one month before his 65th birthday. His funeral to St. Naile’s, Kinawley Parish Church, had a very large attendance. One of nature’s finest gentlemen was laid to rest, and Derrylin, Fermanagh and Ireland were made a lot poorer.

  Michael Doogan.

  The late Michael Doogan was a first cousin of Matt Duggan. Both spellings of the surname have been used by the family.

  Introduction

  The poetry of Derrylin post man Matt Duggan (1914-1979) appeared in various journals and newspapers during his lifetime and a small section was published in Belfast in a booklet called From Mountain to Lough. Although it is almost 30 years since his death, some of Matt Duggan’s best poems have remained in circulation and are still appreciated and enjoyed in south Fermanagh where he too is fondly remembered. His notebooks and published works have been carefully preserved by his family and now his son Gerry has gathered all the poems together for publication in this present volume. As well as his poetry, Matt Duggan has also left a substantial number of short stories and it is hoped that these will be republished at some future date.

  Matt Duggan was educated both by school and by life. He lived through turbulent times. He survived the horrors of the Second World War and the trials of serious illness. He knew the pain of exile, homesickness and hardship but also the joy of returning to his own place and people. In his last years the deep shadow of the Troubles fell across the land that he loved. In his poetry he struggles to understand the dark deeds and the politicians, and he finds solace in humanity and in taking the long view of history in which he finds that the people he had lived through hardship before, and survived. But little did he know how long this trouble would last.

  In his poetry he draws his strength from his home place, the mountains and the loughs. He celebrates the people who lived and survived in that beautiful but harsh terrain, the people who ‘lived, unhonoured and unsung, on many a mountain face.’

  His delight in nature is reminiscent of the work of Francis Ledwidge, the Co. Meath poet who died in World War One. Like Ledwidge, Matt Duggan chose not to write about the horror of war and must have survived on fond memories of home just as later in London he assuages his loneliness by thinking of the ‘Lights of Lisnaskay.’ Unlike Ledwidge, however, Matt Duggan retains his natural voice, his language is never artificial, his diction is always true. His lines have rhythm and cadence that at times are as natural as a ballad; his poems are the songs of a place in the language of the people, not stilted and precious as regrettably Ledwidge sometimes can be. Matt Duggan wears his learning lightly, but still can be profound.

  Matt Duggan lived to witness the modern world and its effects, not only in London but also in rural Fermanagh. He saw change and saw more coming. Some of his verses can now be seen to be quite prophetic but not even he could have imagined the scale of the change in his own beloved Derrylin where the night sky is now lit up by factory lights and a half a mountain has been quarried away. The words of a poet could easily go unheard amidst such tumult.

  Much credit therefore must go to his family for preserving his work, appreciating its value and making it available again. His is a clear calm and pleasant voice. It is my hope that it will be heard by new generations and by a wider audience who cannot have been aware of his work before now.

  My journeys have led me to many a door,

  The cottage, the farmhouse, the rich and the poor,

  And kindly rewarding the welcome has been

  On the wee roads and laneways around Derrylin.

  Séamas Mac Annaidh

  Acknowledgments

  I FIRSTLY MUST THANK MY FATHER for leaving a fine legacy in words for all to enjoy. To my late mother I say thanks for allowing him room for his musings as a loving and supportive wife.

  I wish to make special mention of my brother in law, John McGlynn B.C.L. for allowing time for his clerical staff to transcribe the poems from old newspaper cuttings and ragged jotters to a manageable computer document.

  Frank Ormsby, who as a well established poet himself and editor of the arts magazine, The Honest Ulsterman , offered helpful critical advice and encouragement to my father in the seventies. Mr. Ormsby , as well as publishing one of his poems in that much lauded magazine was kind enough to edit a little booklet of poems called From Mountain To Lough in 1979. Unfortunately the poet was only to live long enough to see the proofs and approve them. Frank’s hand has again been involved in this much grander collection as he made suggestions towards the order of the poems and other editorial suggestions.

  The Post Office trade union offered encouragement through publishing poems in their magazine, Outpost . They also organised and funded the publication of the From Mountain to Lough booklet.

  I extend my gratitude to the members and facilitators of the Shannon Erne writers group who over the past ten years urged me to have this work published. I was further encouraged, nay harassed, by the chairmen, committee members and attendees of the Aughakillymaude Historical Society to produce this collection. The society has offered an opportunity to myself and others to showcase this poetry on an annual basis with a type of ‘Matt Duggan Remembered’ night, which proved to be very popular.

  Thanks to the officers and members of the Aughakillymaude Community Association for believing in this project and in particular Mr Jim Ledwith of the Mummers Foundation for his continued advice and support.

  Thanks to those, both alive and dead, who have kept breathing life into Matt Duggan’s poetry through recitation and song over this past thirty years. Thanks to all the various people who have said to myself or my brother or sisters when we meet them at the shop, in the street or at public functions, “you know I still have your father’s wee
book of poetry, I do still read them from time to time.” Or, “Ye know I’d say if I could just find a minute I could put my hand on them, for I know the cupboard they’re in.” Such leverage has been very important in getting us to this point.

  Thanks to the late Michael Doogan for writing a beautiful account of my father’s life. Although Michael’s health was failing when I asked him to write a brief resumé he was true to his dutiful self by committing to paper these memories which for myself are beautiful though sometimes tearful. Further thanks must again be extended to his wife Celia and his sons and daughters for granting me permission to include the piece and a very special thanks to his daughter Michelle for her artistic input in the form of illustrations which further grabs the attention of the reader.

  To my wife Geraldine and daughter Shauna I say thanks for their patience with me and for all their help with spelling, punctuation, photocopying and typing. My siblings, Angela, Pat and Julia always offered support for this project as well as producing pieces that make this collection as complete as it is.

  I appreciate that the families of my father’s colleagues gave permission to use the group photograph for the back cover of this book. I am also grateful to Paul McManus for cleaning the image digitally and to Dragonfly photographic studio for the design of the front cover.

  Finally Séamas Mac Annaidh for taking on the editing of this book on the first asking, even though he is a very busy man in his role as Writer in Residence at NUI Galway as well as being a prolific writer of stories and local history in his own right. A Fermanagh man himself he is of the people that my father knew and loved even though he is from a different generation. I knew that he was the final piece in the jigsaw as he has an ear for the voice that is derived from these Lakeland parts. Thank you very much Séamas.