In the 1850s, a man named William Mackey was out late shooting wildfowl near Lifford. As midnight crept closer, a biting cold began to seep into his bones, and he decided to call it a night. With his loyal dog at his heels, he started for home.

But the stillness around him suddenly shattered.

From somewhere beyond the riverbank came the sharp bark of a dog – followed by the crack of a musket. Then another… and another. The shots continued in rapid succession, echoing through the darkness. William froze. He had been alone in the marshes all evening. No other hunters were abroad at this hour.

A moment later, a great flame erupted in the distance. It rose into the night sky, illuminating the marshland in a terrible orange glow. Burning thatch and charred splinters spiraled upwards, before falling and hissing as they hit the water.

Still the musket fire roared, until suddenly it ceased – replaced by the unmistakable call of a bugle, cutting loud and clear through the air. Then came another sound: the thunder of cavalry pounding across the ground. William could hear the jingle of bridles and gear as the horsemen halted near the burning cottage. After a time, the ghostly regiment turned and rode away, leaving only darkness behind.

Shaken to the core, William hurried home. At first light, he told his father everything he had heard and seen. His father listened and then revealed a grim tale from the past.

In the late 1600s, a widow named Sally Mackey lived near Lifford with her three sons. All four were wanted on charges of high treason, and a detachment of soldiers – A Company, stationed in Lifford – was ordered to arrest them.

The troop set out around eleven at night, hoping to take the family by surprise. But their approach did not go unnoticed – the Mackeys’ dog raised the alarm, and the soldiers shot it dead.

When the regiment came into view, Sally and her sons opened fire. In the fierce exchange that followed, Sally reportedly killed or wounded several of the soldiers. The battle raged until their cottage was set ablaze. Her three sons perished in the flames, and Sally herself was badly burned, though she survived for several more years.

Locals believed that those who died that night never truly left the battlefield. After Sally’s death, people claimed that the attack was replayed over and over, musket shot by musket shot, hoofbeat by hoofbeat – a ghostly re-enactment of the violence and tragedy that unfolded on that ground.