Towards the end of 1915 the hearts of the Irish Citizen Army beat high, when they were summoned one night for special business. One by one they were called into a room where their Commandant, James Connolly, and his Chief of Staff, Michael Mallin, were seated at a table. They were bound on their word not to reveal anything they should hear until the time came. Something like the following conversation took place: "Are you willing to fight for Ireland?" "Yes." "It might mean your death." "No matter." "Are you ready to fight to-morrow if asked?" "Whenever I'm wanted." "Do you think we ought to fight with the few arms we've got?" "Why wait? England can get millions to one." {29} "It might mean a massacre." "In God's name let us fight, we've been waiting long enough." "The Irish Volunteers might not come out with us. Are you still ready?" "What matter? We can put up a good fight." "Then in God's name hold yourself ready. The Day is very near." To the eternal credit of the Irish Citizen Army be it recorded that only one man shirked that night. Then on top of this glorious happening came the attempted raid on Liberty Hall by the police. That morning I was in the office with my father when a man came from the printer's shop and said, "Mr. Connolly, you're wanted downstairs." My father went downstairs. About five minutes later he came into the office again, took down a carbine, loaded it and filled his pockets with cartridges. "What is it?" I asked. "Can I do anything?" "Stay here, I'll need you," said my father and he left the office again. He was gone about five minutes when the door was banged {30} open and the Countess de Markievicz burst into the office. "Where's Mr. Connolly?" she demanded excitedly. "Where's Mr. Connolly? They're raiding the Gaelic press--the place is surrounded with soldiers." "He left here five minutes ago," I said. "He took his carbine with him and told me to remain here as he would need me." She ran out again. In a few minutes I heard her and my father coming back along the corridor. She was talking excitedly and my father was laughing. They came into the office--he took down a sheaf of papers and commenced signing them. They called for instant mobilization of the Irish Citizen Army. They were to report at Liberty Hall with full equipment at once. "Well, Nora," said my father. "It looks as if we were in for it and as if they were going to force our hands. Fill up these orders as I sign them. I want two hundred and fifty." I busied myself filling in these orders. The Countess began to help me--suddenly she stopped and cried out, "But, Mr. Connolly, I haven't my pistol on me." {31} "Never mind, Madame," said my father. "We'll give you one." "Give it to me now," she said. "So my mind will be easy."