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Anthony McIntyre  ⚑ For most of my time on the blanket protest, I was in Cell 15 of whatever wing I was held on in H4.

Brendy McLarnon

When a wing shift took place and the blanket men were moved en masse from one wing to another within the same block, mirror search en route, we all adjusted to the new wing immediately. It was just the same as the old wing, same people, same cells, same screws, same orderlies, same boring and oppressive regime. With that, however, came a measure of stability and routine. 

The end cell had one advantage - it contained double the amount of piping which was welcome in the winter. The downside was that there were no blanketmen to the left to talk with. All conversation out the windows at night had to be conducted with those to the right giving me less access to others. I was fortunate that within comfortable shouting range was Brendy McLarnon from Ardoyne. Three cells up, he was doubled up with Chips Fusco throughout our long stay in H4. The two of them often devised wing quizzes which were an aid to morale.

Brendy was equipped with a formidable intellect and would become involved in any discussions that were taking place out the windows. This could range from theology, philosophy, ideology, history, evolution, politics, wars, music, books, armed struggle, republicanism, abortion, the Soviet system, Nazi Germany, Vietnam, Multinationals, films, other guerrilla conflicts to bollix. Whatever got us through the night. Often he and I would discuss the nature of religious faith, whether our world came about through chance or design. He believed without being devout. I had given up religion shortly before arriving on the blanket, although during some of the more stressful events I was tempted to drift back to it. 

There were more than a few Ardoyne men on that wing. Fergal McGuigan, a friend of Brendy's, was a few cells up from him but outside my audible comfort zone. Across the wing there were Tom Martin, Jimmy Conway, Bubbles McKeown, Jack McGarry and Barney McKenna. And there were others including Martin Meehan for a time.  While I can still remember Brendy's face despite not having set eyes on him since the protest blocks, I have a stronger recall of his voice. We talked to fellow protestors more than we ever saw them, so it should baffle no one that their sensory effects have impacted more on the ears than the eyes. It is the distinctive tone of each voice that I still recall. Even more than forty years on I reckon if any of the voices belonging to the wing regulars from that time were to be played to me I would be able to assign them correctly to the speaker.

On release Brendy seemed to have been enveloped by the quietude and anonymity of normal life. He married and had children. I asked a few blanket men in passing over the years if they knew what he was up to. None did. After he died I learned that he had been a critic of both myself and the Boston College project, while also defending Sinn Fein against attacks from its critics. None of that much matters when we come to bear witness to a fighter in the crucible that was the H Block protest blocks.  Brendy, like the rest of the protestors, took a fair measure of physical abuse but shrugged it off and got on with the protest. One of those there at the time, Seamus Kearney, recounted that he:

was a warrior from H4 during the blanket protest. He shared a cell with Gerard ‘Chip’ Fusco from Lower Falls, next cell to me, and endured the brutality of war criminals such as Brian Armour, the Red Rat. In 1979 we had to listen to Brendan being mercilessly beaten in Cell 26 (Romper Room) by Armour, who struck him over the head with the 'heavy book.' He refused to bend and that was typical of the brave man he was.

A warrior indeed who joined Na Fianna Eireann in Ardoyne in 1972 before progressing to the IRA as a fully fledged volunteer in 1975. Captured in 1976 he was on the blanket protest from 1977 until it finished.

Seamus Kearney is the author of a pulsating book, No Greater Love, written through the eyes of a blanketman who for much of the protest was in the cell adjacent to Brendy McLarnon. What Seamus witnessed Brendy endured. 

⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Brendy McLarnon

Anthony McIntyre  ⚑ For most of my time on the blanket protest, I was in Cell 15 of whatever wing I was held on in H4.

Brendy McLarnon

When a wing shift took place and the blanket men were moved en masse from one wing to another within the same block, mirror search en route, we all adjusted to the new wing immediately. It was just the same as the old wing, same people, same cells, same screws, same orderlies, same boring and oppressive regime. With that, however, came a measure of stability and routine. 

The end cell had one advantage - it contained double the amount of piping which was welcome in the winter. The downside was that there were no blanketmen to the left to talk with. All conversation out the windows at night had to be conducted with those to the right giving me less access to others. I was fortunate that within comfortable shouting range was Brendy McLarnon from Ardoyne. Three cells up, he was doubled up with Chips Fusco throughout our long stay in H4. The two of them often devised wing quizzes which were an aid to morale.

Brendy was equipped with a formidable intellect and would become involved in any discussions that were taking place out the windows. This could range from theology, philosophy, ideology, history, evolution, politics, wars, music, books, armed struggle, republicanism, abortion, the Soviet system, Nazi Germany, Vietnam, Multinationals, films, other guerrilla conflicts to bollix. Whatever got us through the night. Often he and I would discuss the nature of religious faith, whether our world came about through chance or design. He believed without being devout. I had given up religion shortly before arriving on the blanket, although during some of the more stressful events I was tempted to drift back to it. 

There were more than a few Ardoyne men on that wing. Fergal McGuigan, a friend of Brendy's, was a few cells up from him but outside my audible comfort zone. Across the wing there were Tom Martin, Jimmy Conway, Bubbles McKeown, Jack McGarry and Barney McKenna. And there were others including Martin Meehan for a time.  While I can still remember Brendy's face despite not having set eyes on him since the protest blocks, I have a stronger recall of his voice. We talked to fellow protestors more than we ever saw them, so it should baffle no one that their sensory effects have impacted more on the ears than the eyes. It is the distinctive tone of each voice that I still recall. Even more than forty years on I reckon if any of the voices belonging to the wing regulars from that time were to be played to me I would be able to assign them correctly to the speaker.

On release Brendy seemed to have been enveloped by the quietude and anonymity of normal life. He married and had children. I asked a few blanket men in passing over the years if they knew what he was up to. None did. After he died I learned that he had been a critic of both myself and the Boston College project, while also defending Sinn Fein against attacks from its critics. None of that much matters when we come to bear witness to a fighter in the crucible that was the H Block protest blocks.  Brendy, like the rest of the protestors, took a fair measure of physical abuse but shrugged it off and got on with the protest. One of those there at the time, Seamus Kearney, recounted that he:

was a warrior from H4 during the blanket protest. He shared a cell with Gerard ‘Chip’ Fusco from Lower Falls, next cell to me, and endured the brutality of war criminals such as Brian Armour, the Red Rat. In 1979 we had to listen to Brendan being mercilessly beaten in Cell 26 (Romper Room) by Armour, who struck him over the head with the 'heavy book.' He refused to bend and that was typical of the brave man he was.

A warrior indeed who joined Na Fianna Eireann in Ardoyne in 1972 before progressing to the IRA as a fully fledged volunteer in 1975. Captured in 1976 he was on the blanket protest from 1977 until it finished.

Seamus Kearney is the author of a pulsating book, No Greater Love, written through the eyes of a blanketman who for much of the protest was in the cell adjacent to Brendy McLarnon. What Seamus witnessed Brendy endured. 

⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Anthony McIntyre Obituary

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