Dan Breen and the IRA (10 page)

In Templemore, a teenage republican called Jimmy Welsh got a message from the Blessed Virgin Mary, who said that she was upset by the ongoing violence in Ireland. Inspired by this visitation, Welsh discovered a holy well in his home and religious statues in the house started bleeding. Soon he was doing a roaring trade in the sale of relics, holy water and other manifestations of his miraculous good luck.

Up in Phil Shanahan's Monto pub, Breen – a well known sceptic when it came to all matters religious – was given the job of investigating the Templemore ‘miracles': ‘Collins ordered me to get in touch with this “saint” from Templemore. He was the fellow who operated the bleeding statue. I met him over in O'Neill's in Pearse Street. But we did not trust him; we thought he was a spy. I went across and Dinny Lacey was with me, also many others. I brought Dinny into O'Neill's in Pearse Street. The “saint” was in the next room and when it came to my turn to be interviewed, Dinny said: “The next time he meets the Blessed Virgin Mary, be sure to insist on nothing less than a Republic.” Dinny was a very solid catholic. I said to the “saint”, “How do you do, boy?” After about fifteen minutes' talk I mentioned going but he insisted on going first. They were kissing his coat. Collins said, “One can't take any notice of what you say, Breen, because you have no religion.” That was the last I saw of the failure, Welsh. Phil Shanahan took a car to Templemore and brought a bottle of water back with him. He wanted me to take a drop of it, but I declined.'

In May, Seán Treacy, thinking about marrying his girlfriend, Mai Quigley, wrote whimsically to Cait de Paor, a prominent member of Tipperary Cumann na mBan, concerning the implications of marriage: ‘I can't agree with your opinion that marrying amounts to becoming a passive resister. History, past and present, disproves that theory. So don't let your members off work just because they're married.'

Investigating fake miracle workers and thinking about the vagaries of married life provided light relief as the noose tightened around Breen and Treacy. They'd now been spending a lot of time in Dublin so British intelligence had familiarised itself with their look, style and activities. When the IRA successfully lured Inspector Brien, a Dublin Castle intelligence gatherer, out onto the street where they could get a good shot at him, the adversaries inadvertently ended up talking to one another face-to-face in the rain while Liam Tobin, Collins' trusted intelligence chief, looked on in horror. Breen said: ‘Neither of us knew Brien, so we had to go to Tobin at Vaughan's Hotel, Parnell Square and ask him to come and identify Brien. We did get Tobin and we went ahead, it being arranged that Tobin would come along and join us. We set off about 8.20. It was pouring rain. We stood in the archway at the Mail Office and this powerful man came along. He said he thought he'd wait until the rain stopped. No sign of Brien or Tobin coming! We were there until about 8.40. There were some fellows on the other side of the street. The big man said, “I don't think it will clear at all. I'll be off.” The fellows across the street moved off too. Up came Tobin. “What kept you?” we asked. “Weren't ye talking to him for the last fifteen minutes?” said Tobin. But he was evidently covered by the boys on the other side of the street.'

Having spent the summer of 1920 in Tipperary participating in barracks attacks, Breen came back to Dublin in August: ‘Collins notified me to come back. I had been down the country for some time. Then we had some scraps in Dublin but these were not much. In one scrap, when I remained in bed, Treacy got the sole shot off his shoe. This was in Beresford Place. Some fellow was coming in from Belfast; they went down to get him, but without success.'

On the night of 11 October, Treacy and Breen were cornered in Fernside, a middle-class Dublin safe-house in Drumcondra belonging to Professor Carolan from the nearby teacher training college. This bloody encounter resulted in Breen – after a hair-raising escape which involved face-to-face shoot outs, leaps from first floor windows, and rearguard shooting as he disappeared through adjacent back gardens – being secretly moved to the Mater Hospital by Squad members including Joe Leonard and Dick McKee. Professor Carolan died later in hospital from his injuries. Desmond Ryan quoted a British officer as saying that five British soldiers were killed.

The British fatalities at Fernside included Major George Smyth. Smyth's brother, Colonel Brice-Ferguson Smyth, RIC divisional commander for Munster, had been slain in Cork the previous July. Smyth's other brother had been killed in Lisburn.

Dan Breen later told of his injuries: ‘When we got out through the window we continued out through the back and over the walls down by St Patrick's Training College. I was not wearing boots because I was caught in bed and I broke my toes. I went on towards Glasnevin after that … The first shot fired wounded my right hand and then I had to use my left hand. I had many wounds, including leg wounds. At the time I was more or less oblivious to my wounds, but I suffered great pain afterwards.'

Eamon O'Duibhir's sister, Mrs Duncan, lived in Stella Gardens, Irishtown and her home was a safe house regularly used by Collins and the Big Four. ‘I have always felt that had Breen and Treacy got to me in Stella Gardens in the week before the battle at Carolan's,' O'Duibhir said, ‘the Duncans and I would have got them shelter in that working-class district. It is known that they were hard-pressed to get shelter in the city.'

Breen, despite the showy style of
My Fight for Irish Freedom
, was not especially given to self-importance but he did feel that the Fernside ambush was a direct attempt by Smyth to kill him. Incorrect rumour had it that Breen had killed his brother in Cork and Breen felt Smyth had been seeking revenge: ‘Colonel Smyth was in India and he brought eleven picked men over here with him to avenge the shooting of his brother or brothers. They didn't know Treacy was there. They thought it was Lacey was with me. When Smyth heard that I had gone into a house in Drumcondra, he called his “braves” and decided to go down and get me and to bring me back and skin me alive. Smyth was cautioned to look out for me, that “this fellow will fight”, but he said, “No, they are only rats; I'll bring him back alive and I'll skin him alive”. And he meant it. He did not go back because he was killed and they say eleven of his pals were killed with him. On that night in Drumcondra Treacy was with me and neither of us was in good health after being severely wounded. We had been on the move more or less since 1916 … We were just caught in a corner.'

Treacy escaped from Fernside, only to be gunned down on Talbot Street three days later. Jerome Davin had a poignant last encounter with Treacy in Tipperary shortly before the Fernside affray: ‘It was at my sister's (Mrs Looby's) house that he shaved and dressed before taking his departure. That would, I'd say, be about a week before he was killed. He told me he was going to Dublin but did not say why he was going there. Before leaving Looby's he wrote his name and the date on a sheet of paper and handed it to my sister. She still has it in her scrapbook.'

A week later the news of Treacy's death reached Davin via a telegram from Michael Collins: ‘Séamus Robinson asked me to go to Tipperary town to make the funeral arrangements. A large force of British troops were present at Limerick Junction when the train bringing the remains arrived, but I must say that on that particular night they certainly were not aggressive. As a matter of fact, a party of them presented arms as the coffin covered with the tricolour was borne from the train to the hearse. From Limerick Junction to the church at Solohead the route was lined with British troops, but this did not prevent hundreds of people, including many Volunteers, from marching behind the hearse. Next day when the burial took place British troops were again present in and around the cemetery at Kilfeacle, but the only action they took was to seize some bicycles which were left around by their owners. The officer withdrew the military before the grave was filled in and there was no interference with the firing party who fired the three volleys with revolvers … To my mind Seán Treacy's death was the biggest blow the Third Tipperary Brigade could or did receive.'

‘People were always telling Seán as he left their houses, “Be careful this time, Seán”,' said Breen. ‘His reply always was, “The other fellows better be more careful”. That meant that he would fight to the end – no matter what the odds. And he did that in Talbot Street the day he was killed.'

Maurice McGrath, of the Third Tipperary Brigade, claimed: ‘Some days after Seán Treacy's funeral, the Dwyer's homestead at Ballydrehid was raided about midnight by a party of armed and masked men and two brothers, Frank and Ned, were taken outside the door and shot dead, bayoneted and beaten to pulp with rifle buts in the presence of their sister, Kate, who tried to save them. She was the local captain of Cumann na mBan. The eldest brother, who was the local company captain, escaped, as his parents prevailed on him to hide beneath their bed … … The company captain had forbidden the principal of the local school to open on the day of Seán Treacy's funeral – all schools were to be closed as a mark of respect and mourning. All schools, except Ballydrehid, obeyed the order, so the captain had the children turned back in the morning and no school was held. It was clear that this shooting of the Dwyer brothers was a reprisal, as the principal of the school was a policeman's wife.'

We crossed the pleasant valleys and the hilltops green
Where we met with Dinny Lacey, Seán Hogan and Dan Breen
Seán Moylan and his gallant band they kept the flag flying high
Farewell to Tipperary said the Galtee Mountain Boy.

In 1921, the Third Tipperary Brigade both unravelled and consolidated. Dan Breen got married, Dinny Lacey emerged as a
de facto
Tipperary leader and Eamon O'Duibhir grew alienated from the war. Two flying columns absorbed the top IRA men in the county.

The myth of the Big Four disintegrated. Séamus Robinson, isolated at the brigade's new Rosegreen HQ, was now ignored by the Volunteers in the field. Seán Hogan led a flying column, but there were substantial murmurings of discontent about his stewardship. Breen became the inheritor of the Big Four's mantle. Despite huge personal setbacks, he remained a major organiser and, more importantly, a valiant source of inspiration to younger Volunteers wherever he went.

The death of Seán Treacy had inadvertently brought to public attention a split which had been building up in south Tipperary for some time: a letter critical of the ongoing campaign, written by Eamon O'Duibhir, was found in Treacy's pocket.

Earlier in 1920, O'Duibhir had contacted GHQ to complain about what he saw as IRA disorder and incompetence. He was also disturbed by the organisation's failure to protect the ordinary people of Tipperary who were really suffering at the hands of the Black and Tans.

GHQ asked Robinson to investigate O'Duibhir's misgivings and Robinson reported that he found little of substance in his old mentor's complaints: ‘Eamon O'Dwyer is acting brigade QM and is the best man for the job that we know. He is a man who can form opinions of his own and who will speak them when he thinks they will receive attention. I would ask GHQ to take his integrity and sincerity for granted and to ask him for a full statement of whatever case he has.'

Frank Drohan, commandant of the Clonmel battalion, became another prominent dissident. He'd been complaining since 1919 that unauthorised activities by the Big Four were ‘creating disturbances'. Drohan came in for somewhat rougher treatment than O'Duibhir. In May 1921, when he tried to get selected as a candidate for the next general election, Ernie O'Malley left him in no doubt that he was considered an inappropriate nominee: ‘Our point of view is that of the IRA. As an officer you are unsuitable. You had not the necessary drive and initiative for guerrilla warfare. Your area, though possessing good material, was the slackest from the point of view of organisation and offensive action. I did not nor do doubt your intentions. You are fit for civic honour but as a fighting man I do not respect you. I think that active members of the IRA are the most suitable men at present for the TD position, men whom the youth can look to for their fighting record.'

The O'Duibhir letter found on Treacy's body, in which he expressed qualms about IRA ambushes, was unsurprisingly seized upon by the British propaganda machine and published in the newspapers. When a namesake of O'Duibhir's was murdered in mysterious circumstances in Tipperary, causing speculation that the one-time Kilshenane leader (his house was now burned down) had been executed by his own side as a result of his dissension, O'Duibhir was forced to clarify his position.

In yet another letter, which appeared in the
Irish Independent
on 6 November 1920, he wrote: ‘The statement contained in that letter … alluded to my opposition to certain methods of warfare (notably ambushes) and I wish to make it clear that the only people whom I am in danger from are the agents of the British government who have already made one attempt to kill me and failing in that mission have burned down my home to ashes. In a letter of mine which appeared in the press I made the statement that I consider ambushes an unfair method of fighting. Since then the agents of the English government have perpetrated several atrocities too fresh in the public mind to need particularising. It is nearly impossible to talk of fair play in fighting such an enemy.'

The concept of the flying columns – a group of top men who kept constantly on the move and rarely returned to their homes – was Seán Treacy's parting gift to his old comrades. ‘It was Treacy who first advocated setting up flying columns in Co. Tipperary,' Breen told Jim Maher. ‘Shortly before his death he told me that he was thinking of returning to Tipperary to form the first flying column in the country. But he never got back to do it.'

On 4 October 1920, GHQ issued a memo calling for columns to be established throughout the country: ‘At the present time a large number of both our men and officers are on the run in different parts of the country. The most effective way of using these officers and men would seem to be by organising them as flying columns. In this way – instead of being compelled to a haphazard and aimless course of action – they would become available as standing troops of a well trained and thoroughly reliable stamp and their actions would be far more systematic and effective.'

Thomas Ryan, of the Second South Tipperary Flying Column, reported: ‘Almost immediately following Treacy's death the columns were formed and the whole of the best fighting men were concentrated in the operations and activities of these special units. The activities of the brigade staff from then on became almost purely administrative, giving support to the columns by intelligence and communication services. From the time the columns began Robinson remained in and about the brigade headquarters at Rosegreen, taking no active part in the work of the columns and so was not regarded by the men of the columns as having any effective control of them.'

Flying columns sometimes billeted in friendly safe houses and, just as often, slept under the stars. Tipperary No. 1 Flying Column was set up in October 1920, with rising star Dinny Lacey in command. There were approximately seventy men in his unit.

Lacey was a first cousin of Tom Carew from Golden Garden, the man who'd successfully hidden the Soloheadbeg gelignite. Lacey had been taught, like Treacy and Breen, by rebel teacher Charlie Walshe. Desmond Ryan said of Lacey's command: ‘Lacey's column was to march and fight from the Tipperary border in the west to Carrick-on-Suir, over the wild expanse of country between the Comeragh Mountains, eastward from Fethard to the Kilkenny border.'

To some extent the evolution of the Tipperary columns was a response to the failure, noted by O'Duibhir, of the IRA to vigorously defend their own civilian population. ‘The formation and rise of flying columns,' said Mossie McGrath from Seán Hogan's column, ‘certainly put a stop to a lot of the midnight raids on Volunteer's houses and the bullying of defenceless people.'

In January 1921 – or perhaps earlier – a second, smaller, column, commanded by Hogan but overseen by Breen, was established. This contained in the region of forty men. Thomas Ryan recalled that the No. 2 Column had been established late in 1920 but he reckoned that nothing much happened with them until Dan Breen came into the area and gave them a shot in the arm: ‘We knew, or rather we felt, that Breen's arrival meant that something was about to happen, that we were about to take some action, Breen's attitude being: “It's time something happened around here.” We felt that his presence in the area meant that there was going to be action and we were all delighted at the prospect and to have Breen with us … On the evening of his first visit Breen came to the house of a family named Fitzgerald, about half a mile from my home. Hogan appointed me as chief scout as I knew the area well. We set off on our first march from Prendergast's to Fitzgerald's. Breen had joined us at Prendergast's and marched with us to Fitzgerald's but this was our first march openly as an armed body. We were welcomed at Fitzgerald's, who got a supper ready for us … We had scarcely sat down to supper when (Mossie) McGrath rushed in to warn us that the military were coming across the fields in our direction. Breen jumped to his feet, quenched all the lights in the house and called on me to lead him, as I would know the country better than any of the rest. I led the column men through a gorse field at the back of the house in the opposite direction to which we had learned that the troops were coming, over to a by-road and then down a boreen across the Tonogue River.

‘Having reached this point, I felt I had them quite safe. I was more concerned about Breen than anyone else at this time knowing that his capture would be looked upon as a major achievement by the enemy but we felt safe at this point where we were about three-quarters of a mile from the Fitzgerald's house.'

Mossie McGrath confirmed Ryan's assessment of Breen's importance: ‘Dan Breen came from brigade HQ to get the column in shape for the work ahead. From “A” Company we proceeded to “B” Company … There being strong military centres in Cahir and Clonmel, posting of scouts was carefully observed. The posting of scouts had a two-fold object – it was a course of training in military precaution work and every member of the column received his turn at scout inspection work. Thus, members became familiar with precautionary tactics that proved beneficial later during active column operations … Many men were willing to join but arms were scarce and, further, a very large column would not be feasible. In this way many young courageous Volunteers who would willingly fight under the leadership of Dan and Seán, had to be content with company work.'

Robinson had objected to Hogan being put in charge of a column. He told Ryan that if they insisted on handing over their column to Hogan, they might live to regret it. He said that Hogan was too young for the job. By early 1921, Hogan's subordinates were starting to share Robinson's doubts.

‘A number of us were very dissatisfied with Hogan's leadership,' Thomas Ryan admitted. ‘There were about twelve or fourteen of the column who wanted me to take over the leadership because they felt that Hogan was lacking in common sense and we were tired of being continuously hunted. Being surrounded every now and then and getting out of these difficulties, more by good luck than generalship, had a demoralising effect on the column and we wanted to take the initiative in action of our own making … Hogan's attitude appeared to be that so long as the column continued to exist and did not lose any men or arms, it continued to be a thorn in the side of the enemy and so served its purpose. But a number of us had different views and wanted to take more positive action.'

Nevertheless, Hogan remained in charge of his column and, by the time the Truce came about in July 1921, they had failed to pull off even one successful ambush.

Organising now took up all of Robinson's time. Cut off from day-to-day Volunteer life at the Rosegreen HQ, he ceased to have any real influence. Augusteijn says: ‘The fighting men gradually lost their respect for him as he now rarely did any fighting himself. The local men considered him a thorn in their side with his relentless requests and his criticism of their lack of action, while GHQ was rarely satisfied with his work. The column men as a rule had very little respect for those who were not involved in the fighting.'

Thomas Ryan came to regret aspects of the manner in which Robinson was treated as the war approached its end: ‘With the wisdom of later years, I realise that had he been possessed of a more forceful character and spent more of his time with the columns, where he might have influenced or directed their activities on the spot, we might have had less to lament in the way of lost opportunities.'

Breen took time out from fighting to marry Brigid Malone, a member of a prominent Dublin republican family, on 12 June 1921. She had nursed him back to good health in her mother's home when he was injured during the attempted assassination of Lord French.

Immortalised in a series of fascinating photographs, the ‘on the run' wedding ceremony took place in splendid circumstances at Glengat House, six miles outside Clonmel. The Breens were joined for the celebrations by leading lights from the brigade such as Hogan, Jerome Davin and Dinny Lacey. Hogan was Breen's best man. As Breen put it in
My Fight for Irish Freedom
, he married ‘in the front line of battle'.

A Breen family friend said: ‘I think the marriage was a bit of a disaster, though they kept up appearances. Mrs Breen was a member of a family who were what we would call republican aristocracy. All belonging to her had been out in 1916 and so forth. When she married Dan, she thought that she was marrying a “Hero of the Revolution”. After Dan went into politics she imagined that he'd go far, that he'd end up being a government minister or the likes. Her friends were all married to men who became cabinet members or held other positions of importance in the new dispensation. Dan was just too wild for that kind of thing, a loose cannon, and Dev never quite trusted him. Too many things had happened to Dan when he was young for him to ever settle down to normal family life. And then there were the circumstances in which the marriage took place. He was one of the most wanted men in the country on the morning that they got married. A few weeks later there was the Truce and Dan was off to America. Then came the Civil War and Dan was away in the mountains, more of a wanted man that he'd ever been during the fight against the British. Then he got locked up. Then he was away in America again. To top it all off, he blotted his copybook with Dev. I don't think Dev was too impressed with his drinking and gambling ways. She had high hopes but they were dashed … Now, Dan had a heart of gold and he was lovely person, but I don't think he can have been a great husband. Being a hero is a tricky business. Living with a hero must have been twice as tricky.'

Paddy O'Dwyer spent some typically memorable time with Breen after his marriage and just before the Truce. He saw at close quarters why Breen was held in such affection by the same fighting men who were alienated from Robinson: ‘A scout reported to Breen that a party of British troops, about fifty strong, was on the road near the Cross of Donohill. Breen took [James] O'Gorman and myself with him and we went towards the cross. Near the chapel of Donohill we met another scout, who told us that the military – a cyclist party – were holding up people on the Tipperary Road which was about two fields away. As we approached the road, Breen told O'Gorman to take cover and to fire at anything he saw with a uniform on it. I got a presentiment that Breen intended to attack the troops single-handed, in his native place of Donohill and within sight of his house. He wanted me to keep back, but I followed him to the road. The troops had, fortunately, disappeared as suddenly as they'd appeared.'