Death in Donegal

In the grey Atlantic swells off the rugged Donegal coast bobbed a strange, black, knobby object. The young fishermen of Ballymanus village strolled down to the sea, stared and wondered. At length came the official coast watcher. It was a mine, he warned: let no one touch it.

But two bold youths--James Rogers and James Roarty--waded out waist-deep, fixed a rope to the mine's horns. Up on the beach the crowd heaved-ho. Inshore wallowed the sinister machine until, suddenly, it bumped a rock. In the black roar of the explosion, Rogers and Roarty were blown to bits, 16 others were killed, 40 Ballymanus houses were damaged.

The torn, tattered bodies were borne to the dance hall in neighboring Mullaghduff, where there was to have been a dance that night. From villages miles around the women came, with black shawls over their heads, to keen beside the coffins. This was the saddest wartime tragedy that had come to neutral Eire.

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