The Squad (31 page)

‘I take it from your report you consider it possible to capture the car?’ Collins said.

‘I do, sir,’ Dalton replied, ‘but our success depends upon the exact arrival of our men at the opportune moment, which may only occur very occasionally’.

‘Only on one occasion did the whole crew leave it,’ Dalton said. ‘Until such another occasion arose we could not capture it. When it did arise, it would be necessary for our men to be at hand to seize it instantly. This seemed to satisfy Michael.’

Collins then asked Pat McCrae, one of the Squad drivers, if he would be able to drive the armoured car. He had never driven that make – a Peerless – but he was confident he could do so. ‘I could see that his assurance was quite enough for Michael, who immediately proceeded with the rest of the business.’ He explained his plan in detail. The armoured car had to be stolen without the alarm being raised at the nearby Marlboro barracks. Three gunmen would accompany McCrae. Having seized the car they would pick up two more men dressed in the uniforms of British officers, and go to Mountjoy, where the officers would present bogus documents at the prison governor’s office demanding the release of MacEoin for transfer to Dublin Castle. MacEoin was to try to be in the governor’s office at the time, filing some complaint.

Charlie Dalton’s brother, Emmet, was an obvious choice for one of the officers. Emmet had served as an officer in the British army during the First World War and he still had some of his old uniforms. Just who would accompany him was a bit of a problem.

After his arrest in the round up following Bloody Sunday, Paddy O’Daly had taken the unusual step of signing himself out of Ballykinlar internment camp by solemnly proclaiming to an interviewing board that he would have nothing to do with the republicans following his release. This was an option that was open to everyone, but very few of the prisoners availed of it. O’Daly’s hardest job had been convincing the prisoners’ committee in the camp that he was doing the right thing. ‘I told the committee that the Volunteers outside were beginning to think that there were too many getting themselves locked up for safety, and that the war would have to be won outside,’ O’Daly noted. ‘I told the committee I had Michael Collins’ approval of my plan, that I would like to have their blessing but I would sign the form and tell the British I[ntelligence] O[fficer]s all the lies necessary.’ While the committee was still considering the matter, O’Daly applied for release.

He was brought before an interviewing board consisting of a judge and two military officers. He explained that he was a widower with four young children, the eldest of whom was just eight years old. This was the truth. The judge appeared very sympathetic, but one of the officers was clearly sceptical. He asked if O’Daly knew Michael Collins.

‘I said I did not,’ O’Daly explained. He then asked me did I ever hear of him. I told him I did, but that I thought he was like the banshee, something we were asked to believe in but never saw.’

‘Why do you say that?’ the judge asked.

‘I think Collins is a bogey-man,’ O’Daly replied. ‘I never met the man who could tell me he met him.’

‘Do you think you are talking to fools?’ the second officer asked.

‘Oh, no, sir, but I know from every book and history I have read that the British intelligence is the best in the world, and I cannot believe that there is any man in the whole of Ireland wanted by the police or military who could not be picked up at least within a month. Certainly he would not go on for years, as this Collins is supposed to do.’

‘A likely story,’ the second officer grunted. ‘A pack of lies.’

‘If you saw anyone shooting a soldier or a policeman would you give information to the authorities?’ the first officer asked.

‘I would not,’ O’Daly replied. ‘Let those who go about with guns look after that. I want to live to rear my family.’

‘So you would be afraid,’ the officer said. ‘You must be a poor type of citizen.’

‘Would you blame any citizen for being afraid?’ O’Daly asked the judge. ‘Sure we can’t walk the street of Dublin between the lot of them.’

‘That will do,’ the judge said. ‘Your case will be considered by the proper authorities.’ A couple of weeks later O’Daly was released and returned to Dublin.

The Squad had lost most of its clout while O’Daly was in prison. According to George White of the ASU, there was too much indiscipline within the Squad, because some members, especially its leader, Tom Keogh, had been drinking too much. Collins ran into problems when he tried to have O’Daly take over the Squad again. Keogh refused to hand over the reins and the majority of the Squad backed him. At a joint meeting of the ASU and the Squad, presided over by Oscar Traynor, members of the Squad were ‘definitely disobedient and they cut up rather rough,’ reported White. The meeting had been called to arrange an ambush that never took place, because the British failed to take the bait.

In the planning of the attempt to rescue MacEoin, there were questions over whether O’Daly or Joe Leonard should accompany Emmet Dalton.

When Collins outlined the plan earlier in a private room of Kirwan’s pub, O’Daly was anxious to go but two of the friendly warders from Mountjoy – Daly and Breslin – objected.

‘You won’t deceive the Governor with Paddy,’ they said. ‘The Governor knows him well. Sure he has been in twice in the last twelve months.’ Leonard was therefore suggested.

‘I told Michael Collins that Joe was in the same category as myself,’ O’Daly noted.

‘The warders said that Joe would have some chance, as it was nine months since he was in Mountjoy and he was not as well known as myself,’ Breslin said. ‘Sure Paddy was in the Governor’s office every day when his wife was dying. The Governor could not but recognise him.’

Leonard was therefore chosen. Arrangements were made with Seán MacEoin to find some excuse to have an interview with the governor every morning at ten o’clock and to delay over the interview and be in the passage as much as possible. They hoped that MacEoin would actually be in the office when the car arrived. The operation involved the whole Squad, members of the ASU and some of the intelligence staff from headquarters.

On the first morning that they waited at the abattoir, only four of the soldiers got out of the armoured car, so the whole thing was called off. The same thing happened next morning, 14 May, but this time Charlie Dalton felt that there was something carefree about the attitude of the soliders, and he felt that that there might be a better chance when the car returned on another run later, so everybody stood at the ready. Four soldiers got out of the armoured car again, but this time they did not lock the door. As the four wandered off into the abattoir to watch the animals being killed, the other two soldiers emerged from the car.

‘On stepping out, they lit cigarettes, and one of them shut the door, locking the padlock and putting the key in his pocket,’ Dalton noted. ‘I rushed into the room from which my signal was to be given and I raised the blind.’

He then saw Tom Keogh and another volunteer pass the window. Rushing back to the drawing room window he saw the two soldiers with their hands up, while their revolvers were being taken from them. The other Volunteers went in search of the remainder of the crew.

Pat McCrae and the others were putting on dungarees similar to those worn by the British soldiers. McCrae took the cap off one of them but it was too small for him. He forced it on his head anyhow. He then searched the soldiers for the key of the padlock and unlocked the door of the car.

‘The remainder of us,’ Vinny Byrne said, ‘walked quietly into the slaughter-house and, as we came near the Tommies, shouted: “Hands up!” At the same time a few shots rang out and one of the Tommies fell dead.’ He did not know ‘what caused some of our men to open fire, for we had already received instructions that, if at all possible, the operation was to be carried out without any shooting.’ The remainder of this part of the operation went off without a hitch.

Charlie Dalton locked Mrs Lynch and the children in a bedroom to give the appearance that they had been held captive. He then hurried off on his bicycle around the corner on to North Circular Road to the house where his brother, Emmet, and Leonard, were waiting, dressed and armed like British officers. ‘Emmet was wearing his own British uniform and, having worn it for a long time before, had all the appearance and manner of a British Officer,’ said Joe Leonard. ‘He knew how to adopt the right tone in serving a Prisoner’s Removal on the Jail authorities. I had served six months in Mountjoy and knew the prison well. Besides, Emmet’s second uniform fitted me to perfection.’

‘Come on,’ Charlie said to them somewhat breathlessly, ‘the car will be along any minute.’

They went out to the street as the car appeared with McCrae driving. They joined Tom Keogh, Bill Stapleton, and Jack Caffrey in the car. Charlie Dalton then cycled to Middle Abbey Street where he saw Collins, who was waiting for news. Dalton did not have to say anything as the Big Fellow could read his expression. ‘There was no need to ask,’ Dalton explained.

‘I hope the second part will be as successful,’ Collins remarked.

Some of the Squad were left guarding the British soldiers at the abattoir for about fifteen minutes. The armoured car had no problem getting into Mountjoy. ‘Emmet Dalton who was sitting outside as the officer usually was, waved an official looking paper at the look-out warder,’ said Leonard. ‘The gates opened wide and shut-to with a clang after us. Two more iron gates were opened for us. McCrae turned the armoured car in such a way that the second gates could not be closed.

‘Dalton and myself jumped smartly out of the car,’ Leonard continued. ‘We posted Tom Keogh, dressed in British dungarees and a Tommy’s uniform cap, outside the main entrance door to cover our rear or give the alarm if necessary. Dalton and I entered the main door at 10.30 a.m., as the warders were coming from their quarters on duty. One of them, Warder Kelly, had known me as a prisoner and was so surprised at seeing me in British uniform that he said, “Oh, cripes, look at Leonard”, and then, clapping his hand over his mouth, dashed back upstairs.’

Dalton and Leonard went to the office of Governor Charles Munroe, where there were a number of warders. The plan was for MacEoin to be there, but there was a change in the auxiliary guards at the prison that day and they were being shown the prisoners at the time. MacEoin was not allowed to visit the prison governor’s office. On being presented with a forged order to hand over the prisoner, Munroe decided to telephone Dublin Castle to get the message verified. His suspicions were apparently roused by the presence of Leonard. ‘I sprang for the telephone and smashed it while Dalton, drawing his gun, held the staff at bay, and then began tying the staff up with hope of securing the master keys,’ Leonard explained.

Meanwhile Seán Doyle was in charge of a group outside the jail that included Frank Bolder of the Squad and Jack Walsh of the intelligence staff. Paddy O’Daly, who had cycled over from the abattoir, arrived in time to see the drama unfold. Annie Malone handed a parcel in at the wicket gate, while Doyle and others rushed the gate and forced their way in by holding up the warders at the gate. They then proceeded to open the main gate.

A sentry, seeing what was happening, fired a shot, which ricocheted and wounded Jack Walsh in the hand. Tom Keogh fired at the sentry and possibly hit him because the man’s rifle fell to the ground. Once the shooting started Dalton and Leonard headed back to the armoured car. As they emerged from the jail, Leonard noticed the sentry’s rifle on the ground and he barked out orders to the auxiliaries on the roof and soldiers on the ground to withdraw. ‘Acting the part of a British Officer I ordered them to retire,’ Leonard continued, ‘and on their refusal to obey I took up the rifle, knelt down and threatened to fire. The soldiers, seeing an officer kneeling in the firing position, retired to their quarters.’ Leonard then casually vaulted into the car, and one of them told McCrae ‘to let it rip’.

He drove to where Joe Hyland, the other Squad driver, was waiting in his hackney car to collect Leonard and Dalton. Hyland had waited there for the past three of four mornings until Joe O’Reilly had come to tell him ‘that there was nothing doing for that day’. But this day there was no sign of O’Reilly, so he waited. ‘After a considerable delay I saw an armoured car approaching me,’ Hyland said. ‘By the way it was travelling with steam issuing from the engine I sensed that it was our men.’ The vehicle was clearly in trouble.

When the armoured car reached where Hyland was parked, Leonard and Dalton alighted. ‘They jumped into my car and told me to get away as fast as I could,’ Hyland said. ‘They were both dressed as British Officers. I went straight down the North Cir cular Road to Portland Row, to the North Strand and turned towards Clontarf.’

The armoured car went off in the direction of Ballybough. It overheated in the Marino area, and the others abandoned it, but not before dismantling the Hotchkiss gun and setting fire to what they could. They made across the fields to Paddy Belton’s house in Donnycarney, where they dumped the gun and the military overalls and came back to the city.

McCrae had already headed back to work for his brother Bob, who was the proprietor of Peter Murphy’s provisions shop in Great George’s Street. The business had a contract with Portobello barracks, where Pat casually made a delivery that afternoon. All of the troops seemed at the ready.

‘What’s on today?’ he asked one of the sergeants. ‘You seem to be all on the move.’

‘Tell no one, but the blinking Sinn Féiners are after stealing an armoured car,’ the sergeant whispered.

Pat laughed and said he did not believe it.

‘It is a fact,’ the sergeant insisted. ‘They may be around the city shooting all before them. All armoured cars are being called back to barracks.’ An aeroplane then scoured the area looking for the missing car.

McCrae realised that he had left his collar in the armoured car, and there was a danger that if it had not been burned he could be identified by the laundry number. Paddy O’Daly got some men to raid the Phoenix Laundry on Jones’ Road. ‘The Scotsman who was manager was surprised when we cleared out all the files and lists of customers and were taking them with us,’ O’Daly said. ‘We warned him that if he gave the name and address of any customer to the police he would be shot.’