Lots of peoples' lives were destroyed in the decade of the 1910s. Hell, whole towns of men were blown away with new technology before you could say "trench warfare". Things changed, forever. Millions of men were thrown at the trenches of the enemy. Thousands died to gain an inch. And thousands more died the next day to get it back. They called it The Great War. But another war happened in 1916. It lasted only a few days and killed "only" hundreds of people as opposed to millions, but that doesn't make their chairs at their family's dinner tables any less empty- or the hearts of the people who loved those who were lost.

I was 19 years old. And I was more in love with Kate Brennan than any man had ever been with any woman since Adam. I imagine most men feel like that, with their first. And while boys my age were caught in a living nightmare down in the trenches, I had my girl, I had a job in a pub, and I'd never been happier. But trouble was coming to Dublin, and fast. There'd been talk of conscription for the war- but anyone with half a brain knew that'd never fly over here. Rumblings were working their way throughout the city, rumblings of independence. Dozens of groups dedicated to revolution were being formed, like the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizens Army. Thousands of the Volunteers had crossed to the continent with John Redmond, hoping that fighting and dying for England would gain them an Ireland. Most realized that if they wanted to really get anything, they had to stand up and take it.

Kate was much more involved than I was. Sure, I marched with the local militia and learned how to shoot the rifle that Old Tom left behind the bar. But I wasn't exactly the political type at the time; I could barely read two words when she met me. I'd always been clever, but Kate seemed to see something else in me- she wanted something more. We'd been together a year or so, and after the first few weeks she'd force me to read books she'd bring over after hours in the pub. Force me to stop swearing so much. Well I say "force", but she'd certainly find ways to reward me that made it worth my while. I guess what I'm trying to say is that leading up to Easter 1916 I was decidedly a work in progress.

I remember waking up the Monday after Easter to the sounds of gunshots. I lived in a little room above the pub, so I immediately jumped into my trousers and ran downstairs. Old Tom was loading the rifle with a jug of whiskey in front of him on the bar. More gunshots popped outside in the road as he began speaking to me.

"I've waited I'll me life for today, and I'll be damned if I see it pass while I'm sittin' in me chair!"

Slinging his rifle over his shoulder he waddled out into the street. I stood there, incredulous, as more gunshots and shouting was heard from the road. A moment later Old Tom returned, wiping his red face with a hankerchief. Tossing the rifle towards me, which I caught, he dumped out a pocketful of bullets on the bar and returned to his whiskey bottle. Feeling my stare after a long draught, he screwed up his face and said "Sonny, war's a young man's game. You'd best be going. Find that girl of yours. She's likely to be over at the post office with the rest of 'em."

Well I finished dressing as quick as anything and, shoving the bullets in my pockets and grabbing the rifle, tossed a goodbye at Tom as I headed outside. Streets were damned near empty. As I made my way through the city, I noticed that a few people had smashed storefronts and grabbed whatever they could carry. I saw a few posters speaking of rebellion, but most people I saw were just looking out their windows looking confused. There was a big commotion near the Post Office. As I approached it, I heard a voice commanding me to stop and lay down my weapon- then another familiar voice angrily tell the first voice to shut up, and then I should come in.

"Good morning, Kate!", I yelled as I picked my rifle back up and proceeded into the post office. There were groups of people everywhere, some shouting and some whispering furtively. Grabbing Kate and pulling her into a corner with me, I stole a quick kiss.

"Kate, what the hell's going on?"

"It's a revolution, idiot."

"Well I can see that much."

"Padraig Pearse and the rest have written up a declaration. People are rising all around the city. Some of the ladies and I helped take the post office earlier- I've never been so excited in my life. Most of the people think it's suicide, or that we should try to use more nonviolent means. But Pearse said "There are many more things more horrible than bloodshed and slavery is one of them". And that even if we can't win, we can at least make a blood sacrifice to rally the people!"

Her face became more flushed and animated as she talked, moving her hands so much that her revolver almost fell out of her belt. I spent the rest of that day "on patrol" with her, which largely meant sitting around and waiting for something to happen. We were there for hours, and near the middle of the night Winifred Carney, one of the leaders of Cumann na mBan, called Kate over for a chat. When Kate came back to me her eyes were shining.

"We're to go reinforce a location on the other side of town. I've got a few messages and some supplies. She told me to bring that 'strapping lad of mine' with me, so I guess you're part of the rebellion now if you want in.

Grinning, I kissed her as we stepped towards the door. For a couple hours, we slowly made our way through the city, hiding in alleys if we heard someone coming and trying to stay off the beaten path. As the sun was first beginning to come up over the roofs, I noticed where we were.

"Shit! The goddamn constables barracks are right here.."

As if on cue, we could hear the sound of marching coming around the corner. Desperate, I saw a door slightly ajar and pulled Kate inside. Shutting the door, we sneaked a look out the nearby window to see a group of constables head past and set up position at a street corner visible from the front door.

"Looks like we're lying low for the day..." Kate grumbled. Searching through the house, we found that it was abandoned, probably as soon as the trouble started the day before. We spent the whole day in that house. Strange at first, but after a few hours we felt just like an old married couple. Amidst all the craziness, I can honestly say that if I live to be 500 years old I'll never have a better day in my whole life. All day we just talked, snacked, took turns napping on each other, all the while expecting King George to burst down the door and line us up for the firing squad. And as the day closed we spoke of Ireland. She had been free for two days. And whether we were successful or a symbolic sacrifice for the future at that moment on April 25th, we were free. And that was something.

But the red sun sank beneath blood red clouds, as if knowing the violence that the next day would bring...