by Joe Ambrose
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.’
As peace and the possibility of a deal loomed, Dan Breen seemed to have lots of fight left in him but, in fact, his fighting days were nearly over. He would henceforth distinguish himself, not as a warrior, but as a peacemaker.
15 – The Truce
The majority have no right to do wrong.
Eamon De Valera
The Truce was agreed on 11 July 1921. The IRA was to retain its arms and the British army was to remain in barracks for the duration of peace negotiations. Many IRA officers interpreted the Truce as a temporary break in the fighting. They continued to recruit and to train volunteers. Some reports suggested that the IRA had over 72,000 men at its disposal by the first months of 1922. The brave hearts that joined the IRA once the fighting stopped were called Truceleers.
Breen took the opportunity provided by the Truce to travel freely through south Tipperary for the first time since 1919. Roving from one end of the county to the other by pony and trap, accompanied by brigade pals Maurice Crowe and Bill Quirke, his journey was something of a lap of honour. He was greeted wherever he went by supportive followers and acquaintances.
He also felt the pulse of the populous and, by undertaking such a flamboyant journey, gave the first indication that the rest of his life might be that of a public man.
Bill Quirke, a brigade intelligence officer, enjoyed a reputation for being one of the most glamorous officers in the IRA. He and Breen were lifelong buddies. When Quirke died in 1955, Breen was one of the pallbearers at his funeral.
At some stage during that late summer trip, the horse pulling the three men bolted, causing Breen to be thrown from the trap. It took Quirke and Crowe some time to get their vehicle under control and, when they finally got back to Breen, they found the national hero spread-eagled on the ground and seemingly dead.
‘Is he dead?’ Maurice Crowe enquired.
‘He is,’ Quirke said forlornly, having a fair idea that Breen was bluffing. ‘And it’s a terrible tragedy that Dan Breen should die this way after all his years of fighting the British. He died in an accident, after winning Ireland’s freedom.’
Quirke stared at Breen for a second and then he looked over to Crowe: ‘Why don’t we put a couple of bullets into him and put the story about that he fell defending himself against the British? We could give him a hero’s funeral.’
This brought a swift end to Breen’s bluff, as he sat up straight. ‘Aye, you bastard,’ he retorted to Quirke, smiling, ‘and no better man to do it either.’
In September 1921, Breen headed for Dublin. The Treaty negotiated by a team led by Collins and Arthur Griffith was signed on 6 December. The most contentious aspect of the deal, for unadulterated republicans like Breen and Cork IRA boss, Liam Lynch, was the effective abolition of the Irish Republic declared in 1916 and reiterated in 1919. The Treaty gave Ireland the stat
us of a dominion within the British Commonwealth, enjoying a relationship to Britain similar to that enjoyed by Canada. The British monarch would be the head of state. The British retention of so-called Treaty Ports and the partition of the island seemed like lesser evils, though partition caused more southern anxiety than is generally acknowledged.
Breen left Dublin and returned to Tipperary when the implications of the Treaty became known. On 7 December, he held a meeting with Seán Hogan, Liam Lynch and other IRA officers opposed to the new accord. He urged Lynch – who became the leader of the IRA during the approaching Civil War – to recommence the fighting but, when nothing happened and when he noted a palpable appetite for peace amongst the people, he headed for America. His trip was not some sort of disillusioned exile; he went to the United States to raise funds for the IRA campaign which few regarded as being over. He was also there to purchase arms.
Before he left the country, on 19 December, he wrote a letter to Seán Mac Eoin, the pro-Treaty Longford man who was both an IRA chief and a member of An dáil: ‘You are reported to have stated today in an dáil that this Treaty brings the freedom that is necessary and for which we are all ready to die. You are also reported to have previously stated that this Treaty gives you what you and your comrades fought for. As one of your comrades I state emphatically that I would have never handled a gun or fired a shot, nor would I have asked any of my comrades, many of whom fell in the battlefield, to raise a hand to obtain this Treaty.
‘Let me remind you that this day is the second anniversary of Martin Savage’s death. Do you suppose that he sacrificed his life in attempting to kill the British governor-general in order to make room for another British governor-general?
‘I take no party’s side but I will stand by our old principle of complete separation and entire independence.’
