For four days they have fought and toiled, almost without cessation, almost without sleep, and in the intervals of fighting, they have sung songs of the freedom of Ireland. No man has complained, no man has asked "why?". Each individual has spent himself, happy to pour out his strength for Ireland and for freedom. If they do not win this fight, they will at least have deserved to win it. But win it they will, although they may win it in death. Already they have won a great thing. They have redeemed Dublin from many shames, and made her name splendid among the names of Cities. If I were to mention names of individuals, my list would be a long one. I will name only that of Commandant General James Connolly, Commanding the Dublin division. He lies wounded, but is still the guiding brain of our resistance. If we accomplish no more than we have accomplished, I am satisfied. I am satisfied that we have saved Ireland's honour. I am satisfied that we should have accomplished more, that we should have accomplished the task of enthroning, as well as proclaiming, the Irish Republic as a Sovereign State, had our arrangements for a simultaneous rising of the whole country, with a combined plan as sound as the Dublin plan has been proved to be, been allowed to go through on Easter Sunday. Of the fatal countermanding order which prevented those plans from being carried out, I shall not speak further. Both Eoin MacNeill and we have acted in the best interests of Ireland. For my part, as to anything I have done in this, I am not afraid to face either the judgement of God, or the judgement of posterity. (Signed) P. H. Pearse, Commandant General. Commanding-in-chief the Army of the Irish Republic and President of the Provisional Government.] Once a day they allowed me visitors. Every one who came to my room was confident that things were going well. That we were isolated from other "forts" and even from headquarters did not necessarily mean they were losing ground. We were holding out, and our spirits rose high. We believed, too, that by this time the Volunteers outside Dublin had risen. We could not know that, even where they had joined the rising on Easter Monday, the loss of one day had given the British enough time to be on guard, so that in no instance could our men enter the barracks and seize arms as originally planned. While I lay there, I could hear the booming of big guns. All of us believed it was the Germans attacking the British on the water. There had been a rumor that German submarines would come into the fight if they learned there was a chance of our winning it. I had heard that report the evening before the rising. Edmond Kent, one of the republican leaders, had been most confident of our success, and when a friend asked him, "What if the British bring up their big guns?" he replied: "The moment they bring up their big guns, we win."