His father said it was a miracle he was too young to fight in the Irish Civil War, the Cogadh Cathartha na hEireann. The conflict had ended in May 1923 when Joe was 14 years old. It was not to be born his father said. The loss. His father was a stoic man. The black colored fear that at times came upon him scared his young son Joe. No one wins. His father said into his cups. No one wins.

Joe Patrick Finnegan tasted the bittersweet loss of battle quietly and without fanfare in the deep green wilds of his father’s lands. He had longed to fight. To take up arms for the Irish Republic. To fight for and earn his own independence. His hard-won battles alone by the creek were hardly the tales of valiance and honor. But the mewling of a young man without direction and order.

Next Chapter: Anya, Volgograd Russia, July 1918