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PRISON DAYS by Gethin ab Iestyn

This article is drawn from a speech made at the graveside of Julian Cayo Evans, commandant, Free Wales Army, on the first anniversary of his death. The author, Gethin ab Iestyn, is originally from Pencoed, Penybont ar Ogwr, and was one of those arrested when, in 1969, the English State and its Welsh collaborators decided to eliminate the Free Wales Army. Their hope was to undermine opposition to the ludicrous pageant to be enacted at Caernarfon castle.

"Let me share with you some memories I have of Cayo. Before our arrests I had, in theory at least, left the Free Wales Army to concentrate my efforts on the Patriotic Front and the Anti-Investiture campaign. But I remained in spirit a ‘soldier of the Army of the Welsh Republic’, intent on continuing my attempts to get the FWA better organised. And yes I take full responsibility for Camp Abergwesyn. (FWA training camp in the late 60’s infiltrated by Police).

Our arrests were followed by months of incarceration in Swansea prison. We were eventually sentenced at Swansea Crown Court in that now notorious show trial; sentenced on the day, even the hour, that Charles Windsor was invested as “Prince of Wales” in faraway Caernarfon. Then we were whisked down the A48 to serve our sentences in Cardiff prison.

During our detention in Swansea and throughout our trial, we had but a few thoughts in mind- chief of which was to continue the struggle. Cayo was to attempt this in a dramatic and old fashioned way- with a file smuggled into prison in a rolled up copy of the Western mail. Inevitably the plot was discovered and the file confiscated.

Another memory is odd to say the least, but it’s more or less true. Whenever my socks won’t stay up I think of Cayo. Because shortly after our arrest, during our first few weeks in Swansea, Cayo discovered that he could embroider a red dragon in the prison issue T-shirt- using wool from prison issue socks. Of course this required more than one pair of socks so the charmer talked us into taking the red wool out of our own socks for him. After that the bloody things would never stay up!

Cayo and I did not share a cell. We were kept in solitary confinement, locked up for 23 hours a day, and we saw each other only during short exercise periods. It was during one of them, on the last day of our trial, that a prisoner shouted down to us “Two of your boys have been killed”. These, we later learned were George Taylor and Alwyn Jones, the Abergele Martyrs.

After a month of solitary confinement in Cardiff- and yes we did sew mailbags- the authorities decided it was safe to let us mix with other prisoners. So Cayo and I would be escorted from our separate cells and marched off to the prison workshops. There, we were seated at long tables, involved in the laborious task of breaking up telephones into their constituent parts. This would have been mind numbing if the other convicts had not taught us how to make prison products; tobacco tins with framed photo lids, pencil cases and a nice line in named- engraved crucifixes.

Despite these diversions it was Cayo who saved my sanity with his fund of stories- tales of his adventures in the English Army and the countless scrapes he’d been in. I particularly liked listening to Welsh Folk Tales such as his telling of the “White Horse of Brechfa”. But my favourite poem was the “Man from God Knows Where”, recited in that dramatic way that only Cayo could manage.

I was impressed by Cayo’s immense knowledge of folklore, myth and poetry.These included the Yukon Poetry of Robert Service. I used to look forward to those bloody telephones just so that I could listen to Cayo spin the magic- and boy, could he tell a good story!

Time passed more quickly and enjoyable when we became involved in Prison Celtic Crafts Ltd. This meant Cayo leaving our table regularly to beg or barter for materials needed for our Celtic crosses and other products. Officially, we were supposed to ask the workshop screw, seated on a high chair for permission to leave the table, but Cayo had no time for such formalities. He’d just up and go. Every so often his absence would be noticed and the call would go throughout the workshop “Where’s Cayo?”

Many of the fondest memories I have of Cayo are of the time we spent as Welsh Patriot Prisoners for the cause of Welsh Freedom. Or, as the English Crown saw it, for an armed insurrection against the imposition of an English pretender as Prince of Wales.

At the close of our show trial at Swansea Crown Court on July 1^st 1969, I refused to sign a pledge of future good conduct, which I suppose meant not doing whatever I’d done that had landed me in jail, along with the FWA Commandant Julian Cayo Evans.