Michael Collins and the Women Who Spied For Ireland (8 page)

January 1921 brought sad personal news for Mick. Kathy, wife of his brother Johnny (and sister of Mick's friend Seán Hurley who was killed in 1916), had died. He tried to go to the funeral, but a hold-up at the railway station meant he had to duck so he missed the train.

Afterwards he wrote to his sister Helena:

Poor Kathy is gone, alas! She is a loss not only to Johnny and all them splendid children but to the locality generally. She was a splendid type of Irish mother and many a person in South Cork will mourn her loss.
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He tried to keep contact with his family but it wasn't always easy. Not having been in touch with his sister Mary in Cork for a few weeks, he wrote: ‘You know it is through no lack of feeling nor indeed through any lack of thought for you but those to whom I write are doomed to have trouble brought upon them'. He wondered if she had been raided. ‘As one of the great English officers said recently on a raid – “Anyone who is a friend of that man is bound to suffer”.'
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In early April, Mick's intelligence office in Mespil Road was raided. In a desk beside the window the raiders found a brace of loaded revolvers. Fortunately, Mick's intelligence files were hidden in one of Batt O'Connor's secret cupboards. When the British had completed their search they occupied the building, hid all signs of their presence and prepared to sit until Mick rode up in the morning, pushed his bike around the side and strode in the door.

They had already arrested Patricia Hoey, who with her invalid mother occupied the upstairs portion of the house. Aware of the danger for Mick Collins she bluffed her way, saying she was a journalist and that the press of the world would hear the story of their treatment of a woman. Late into the night she pleaded with them to let her go back to her mother. Eventually they agreed. Though under guard, she managed to tell her mother to fake a collapse. After further discussion they allowed her out under escort to fetch a doctor. Her mother couldn't be examined with men present, she told them, and they agreed to withdraw. Patricia then told the doctor her predicament.

Further consternation. No one knew where Mick was staying. Through the network, they succeeded with Joe O'Reilly's help in getting scouts posted at every road leading to the office. And so, that bright spring morning, Collins, Cullen and Alice Lyons, the secretary, were all halted in time. It was a devastating blow because Mick now knew the military had the inside track, that they had been acting on a tip-off. The office would have to be abandoned.

His dear friend and intelligence agent, Moya Llewelyn Davies, was arrested when her home was raided one night. She was lucky that no guns were found on the premises. She was imprisoned and her husband Crompton was dismissed from his British government post.
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Moya's arrest and those of Eileen McGrane and Patricia Hoey upset Mick. He disliked the thought of women being confined to what he termed ‘dismal surroundings'. He got his warder contacts in Mountjoy to see that they received ‘little comforts' such as woollen rugs, good books, and food. He knew Moya liked China tea so he had it smuggled in to her with sweetmeats and ‘other goodies' for all three.
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At the time Mick was planning Seán MacEoin's escape using the help of Dr Brigid Lyons. On many occasions the vibrant, energetic Brigid had transported revolvers, ammunition as well as dispatches for MacEoin and his brigade members in Longford. In this intriguing and nerve-wracking work, while still continuing her medical duties, she often only escaped arrest by the tips of her fingers. Now she would be a key link between Collins and MacEoin who was in George V Military Hospital, having been wounded while trying to escape arrest. She succeed in getting parcels and secret notes to MacEoin but was not allowed see him. MacEoin's planned escape by Collins was foiled when he was suddenly transferred to Mountjoy Jail. Using her charm Brigid got the authorities in Mountjoy to believe that she was involved in a romantic relationship with MacEoin, and was granted visitation permits to his military hospital bed. This allowed Collins to plan another escape.

Using every trick, Brigid and Seán MacEoin discreetly exchanged ‘intimate' notes and coded messages during visits. Despite a clamp down on one occasion when MacEoin's friend and fellow prisoner Thomas Traynor was court-martialled then hanged on 26 April, Brigid, on Collins' advice, succeeded in getting her permits renewed. (Questioning by Castle authorities for each permit was rigorous.) There were several hitches in this escape plan as MacEoin, who faced court-martial was moved from the hospital area to another part of the prison.

Throughout this time Collins, Emmet Dalton and some Squad members were planning the rescue of MacEoin, while Brigid used her charm as a go-between. Due to a series of events on the day of the planned rescue MacEoin was unable to be in the governor's office at the time Emmet Dalton, Tom Keogh and Joe Leonard, dressed in captured British military uniforms, had entered. Shots were exchanged and the men were lucky to escape the machine-gun fire. It was with a heavy heart Brigid, who was attached to Hollis Street hospital at the time, learned of the foiled attempt. However, with Collins' encouragement she continued her visits to Mountjoy, while Collins began planning another rescue. He visited Mrs MacEoin in Longford. ‘Next time I come, I'll bring him with me, and it won't be long either,' he told her. While in Longford he paid a brief visit to Kitty Kiernan, Harry Boland's girlfriend, with whom he could freely discuss confidential matters.

A few weeks later Brigid informed Collins that the date of Seán's court-martial was eminent. During the trial, which took place in June 1921, he was found guilty and sentenced to death for the murder of a member of the crown forces. (A short time later when the truce was being discussed MacEoin was still in custody. In one of the terms for further discussion with Lloyd George, de Valera insisted on MacEoin's release and so forced Lloyd George to relent.)

Meanwhile Mick was heartened by the success of the guerrilla campaign in his native west Cork. On 19 March, Tom Barry and his flying column had successfully out-fought lorryloads of Tans and Auxiliaries at Crossbarry. This success brought new hope to the IRA throughout Ireland, and was followed by another successful ambush at Rosscarbery Barracks.

Mick Collins was so elated at the capture of his home barracks that he wrote on 7 April about ‘the splendid performance' and expressed a wish to meet Tom Barry, ‘the officer who arranged this encounter and carried it out with such gallantry and efficiency'.
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But his elation was short-lived. Just over a week later, 16 April, in revenge for the Rosscarbery ambush, the dreaded Essex Regiment under Major Percival burned houses in the area including the Collins family home. His brother Johnny, who was in Cork at a county council meeting, was captured as he got off the train in Clonakilty, informed that his home had been burned, taken to Cork Prison and thence to Spike Island.

News that the Auxiliaries had rounded up neighbours and as hostages got them to pile hay inside the house and sprinkle it with petrol before setting it alight upset Collins greatly. ‘They know how to hurt me most,' he said, ‘and those splendid children, already without a mother and now without a father or a home.'
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He worried about the treatment Johnny would receive, being his brother.

He was to remember this event and recall it on the last day of his life when he returned to his old home.
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Though de Valera was pressing for negotiations to open up again with Lloyd George, Collins was determined to fight ‘until we win'. Aware of the problem in the ‘north-east' since the Government of Ireland Act of 1920, he was determined that the end result should be ‘an Irish republic'.
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In mid-May 1921, Tom Barry, ‘a wanted man', posed as a medical student to travel by train to Dublin. In Devlin's pub he met Gearóid O'Sullivan and for the first time he met Mick – the man who had praised him for the Rosscarbery ambush. The day after Barry left Dublin (he had also met de Valera during this visit) the Customs House – centre of nine departments of British administration – was destroyed. The next day Mick had the closest shave of his career. With Gearóid O'Sullivan, he lunched in Woolworth's as he had often done. The young girl who served them was extremely attentive, and for some reason Mick had a hunch.

‘We'll have to stop coming here,' he said. ‘She has us taped.' Rather than returning immediately to his Mary Street office, he suggested to O'Sullivan that they go for a drink. He then told O'Sullivan that he'd go on to his office. ‘I've a feeling there's something wrong in Mary Street,' he said.

Back in Mary Street, Ellie Lyons, Mick's typist, remarked to Sinéad Mason that Mick was over half an hour late. Just as the two spoke they were startled by a noise. A few Auxiliaries dashed up the stairs past Ellie as she walked across the landing. One Auxie, on finding the back room locked, demanded the key from her. ‘We know Collins is in there!' he shouted. Then hearing what sounded like a scuffle on the landing above, he moved to look. In that few seconds she and Sinéad tripped down the stairs and past the sentries before the alarm sounded.

This was the second raid on this office within a few weeks. Joe O'Reilly had escaped through the skylight and set out to find Mick. For the first time he found him ‘rattled ... deathly pale and agitated' at the news. Later that evening when Mick visited O'Connor's, Mrs O'Connor got the same impression. And that night in Devlin's he broke down.

‘There's a traitor in the camp,' he repeated. He told Batt O'Connor that he felt the game was up for him.
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Mick moved office again, this time to St Andrew's Street. The military were close on his heels. Less than a week later, in a letter to de Valera, he said that ‘the escape on Thursday was nothing to four or five escapes I have had since. They ran me very close for quite a good while on Sunday evening.'
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Raids on houses which he frequented made him uneasy and he had a strong suspicion of betrayal by someone he knew. On 9 June, in a letter which was smuggled in to Moya Llewelyn Davies in jail, he wrote, ‘The chase I think has not been less hot. They have got several items of information. They got them by torture and extraction'.
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Yet he was adamant that mentally he was not on the run, as he told Moya two weeks later:

I have (or think I have) a fair knowledge of the mental attitude of the others, and he is on the run who feels he is on the run. I have avoided that feeling. Others have not – it is these who make themselves remarkable by their actions and movements.
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It appears that shortly after this Collins found out who the informer was and had him shot.

Throughout May the British cabinet had been discussing ways of getting the Irish leaders to talk peace but Mick's priority was action. He was in regular correspondence with the commanding officer and intelligence officer of every working brigade. Despite IRA losses and difficulties, they continued countrywide operations throughout May and June. However, Collins and GHQ were unable to supply arms in response to the pleas of the three Cork brigades. Mick sent Madge Hales to her brother in Italy to try to speed up the shipment of arms that was expected.
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Madge Hales arrived back from Italy in June and informed Mick that only half a boatload of armaments could be obtained; this, coupled with transport difficulties, meant that the anticipated shipment had been postponed once again.
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The serious shortage of arms hampered the fight, ‘because men, no matter how determined they may be, or how courageous, cannot fight with their bare hands'.
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Collins neglected to inform the Cork brigades of the failure of the Italian shipment because he had so much on his mind; this was held against him at a time of future division.

Soon Lloyd George invited de Valera to come to London for discussions. De Valera took with him Erskine Childers and a delegation of four cabinet colleagues, including Austin Stack. Collins was anxious to go but Dev ‘flatly refused to have him, and there were some bitter words between them'.
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Arising out of the negotiations it was obvious to de Valera that ultimately ‘some form of partition would be a part of any settlement.
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These talks as well as other pressures on the British government led to the Truce.

Monday, 11 July 1921 was a sunny day. Before noon armoured tanks, cars and patrols made a slow procession back to barracks. Then at noon church bells and clocks struck. Truce time. The public was happy that the guns were silent but for Collins and his comrades there was the danger that once they came out into the open, they would be easily ‘exterminated' if the Truce should fail.

In Harcourt Terrace, Mick Collins sat at his desk, retrieved slips of paper from his socks and began to write.