Espionage and Assasination with Michael Collins' Intelligence Unit: With the Dublin Brigade

by Dalton, Charles

  Later in the day reports came in which greatly disconcerted us. Six Volunteers had been killed in action, many wounded and about sixty had been captured.

  This news greatly troubled us, as practically all the active Volunteers in Dublin had been engaged and it would be almost impossible to fill the vacant places in the ranks.

  Jimmy was one of the men trapped in the building. Joe and I spent a very gloomy night thinking of the serious losses we had sustained. Of the original Squad, besides Jimmy, Tom Kehoe was a prisoner and Jim Slattery was badly wounded.

  Chapter XXXI

  The weeks following the destruction of the Custom House were very trying ones for us. Many of our best men had been killed or were in jail and it was necessary for us to conceal our crippled state from the enemy, who might otherwise have taken advantage of it to deal us a decisive blow. Ambushes were, therefore, carried out nearly every day by idle Volunteers, or those who could leave their employment for a couple of hours.

  During this month, June 1921, I was introduced to two Americans. Two Thompson machine guns had been successfully smuggled in and the Americans had come to show us how to use them.

  I listened to a lecture they gave to a few of us on the working of the gun, but it was purely theoretic, as the guns themselves had to be kept carefully hidden until the moment came to bring them into action.

  The officer who was now in command of the Active Service Unit sent for me one evening and told me I was to go on an ambush on the following morning and that I was to operate one of the Thompson guns.

  On turning up at the meeting place, I now saw for the first time the two machine guns which were concealed in a waiting motor-car and I met the Volunteer who was to be my companion.

  We drove to the position selected for the ambush and waited near a railway embankment. We had information that a troop train would pass by. A fresh detachment was arriving in Ireland from Silesia and was on its way to the Curragh.

  We waited alongside the motor-car until we heard bombs exploding and the sound of gun-shot fire. We each took out one of the Thompsons and knelt down in readiness. As this was the first time I had the gun in my hand, it took me a minute to locate the various gadgets and, while looking it over, the train, badly wrecked by the bombing party, passed by.

  It had been our expectation that, on being bombed, the train would be pulled up, when we could have entered into an engagement with the troops. But the engine driver did not even slacken speed and I failed to operate my gun, as I had not sufficient practical knowledge of it to get it working in the thirty seconds which the train took to pass our position.

  The other Volunteer was more fortunate. He was in time to fire one magazine of twenty rounds before the train disappeared from view.

  I was greatly disappointed not to have been able to use the gun. Subsequently I was asked for an explanation and my opinion of it. I reported that it was satisfactory and that I would have been able to demonstrate its powers if I had had an opportunity beforehand to look over the mechanism.

  Chapter XXXII

  It was in the second or third week of June that I was summoned one day to brigade headquarters at the Plaza Hotel along with the other men of the intelligence department.

  We were to co-operate on the following afternoon at six o’clock with a number of Volunteers in surrounding and holding up Grafton Street.

  The plan of action was outlined to us. The Volunteers were divided into eight groups. Each group was to be accompanied by an intelligence officer. They were to converge on Grafton Street at exactly six o’clock, each group entering the street by a different side street, so that every person in Grafton Street would be hemmed in.

  It was well known to us that at this hour the street was promenaded by Auxiliaries in civilian dress.

  I had now made myself familiar with the Thompson gun, and I was told off to accompany two men of the Active Service Unit – Joe Leonard, my companion of the dispensary, and Bill Stapleton, a man of sturdy build and spirit, who had just learned how to drive a Ford car.

  We were to proceed to the scene of action in a Ford military van, which had been captured previously, and were to patrol round and attack any enemy cars.

  On the following afternoon Joe, Bill and I went to an old stable where we found the van garaged and where the Thompson gun was dumped also. I examined the gun carefully and saw that it was in proper working order. I filled several magazines and left them handy in the back of the van. The van was hooded with canvas, and from behind the curtain at the back I could direct a steady fire.

  Bill got the car ready, and from the difficulty he had in getting it started I could see that he knew very little of the art of driving. But what he lacked in skill in this and other directions, he made up for in self-confidence.

  We set out at ten minutes to six, giving ourselves plenty of time to reach Grafton Street at the appointed hour. Joe sat beside Bill in front and I sat behind, facing the other way, with the Thompson gun on my knee.

  When we came to Butt Bridge to cross the Liffey, Bill slowed up on account of the congestion of the traffic. As soon as we had crossed the bridge, Joe called out to me: ‘Look out, and get ready.’

  Quickly turning round I saw a patrol of soldiers right in front of us. I prepared to open fire and Bill kept the car in motion.

  But when we drew level with the soldiers, to my surprise and satisfaction, I saw them waving us on, evidently taking us for crown forces from the outward appearance of our van.

  Without further adventure we reached Duke Street, which enters Grafton Street midway. Here was our post, and Bill brought the car to a standstill.

  It was now six o’clock, and we waited anxiously to hear the firing begin, while we kept on the lookout for the approach of any military lorries. From the car I saw three armour-plated lorries, filled with Tommies, pass down Dawson Street (outside the area of our operations). They were apparently going on a raid, as they continued on their journey.

  At five minutes past six we heard shots being fired in Grafton Street.

  We got ready for action. Bill had the engine running, and we were ready to engage any car we saw approaching.

  The minutes passed and nothing happened. We heard no more sound of gunfire and there was no sign of the enemy.

  At last we decided it was useless and dangerous to wait any longer. Bill turned the van and we started to drive away. All hope of an engagement over, we were not very happy in our position, with our barely concealed Thompson gun beside us and the chance of being held up likely at any moment.

  We turned round the corner into Dawson Street at a very sharp angle and as we did so I felt a severe bump. The bumping continued and the van was wobbling all over the street. Bill kept it going until we drew round into the next block – Kildare Street – where it came to a standstill. Aghast at this mishap, I jumped out and saw that a front and rear tyre were gone. There we were, stranded in a busy thoroughfare!

  Bill could not get the car started again. We all got out and began to shove. By a great effort we succeeded in pushing it into a laneway. There were several unoccupied cars parked on the street, but not one of them was a Ford. Nor was there a driver whom we could have coerced to get us away.

  But in the lane we discovered a stable which was unlocked. We pushed the van into it and shut-to the door. I noticed a blue document nailed to the entrance. It was a notice by the Borough Surveyor ordering the stable to be pulled down ‘within seven days’. I wondered how many of the seven had elapsed.

  We had to abandon our guns as well as the van, praying they would not be discovered before morning. It was now getting on for seven o’clock and the streets would be alive with troops. It was dangerous to be lingering.

  We walked to the Shelbourne Hotel and, seeing a hack outside, we engaged the jarvey to drive us, directing him by a route in the opposite direction from Grafton Street.

  We decided not to report our loss. We went to the dispensary, where we all spent a sleepless night. I though
t morning would never come, so consumed with anxiety I was for the safety of our arms, now, owing to their scarcity, of such paramount importance to us.

  Very early Bill was up and out to get two new tyres. He made his way with them to the stable, which had not been demolished in the meantime, fitted them on and drove away the precious cargo to safety.

  We learned that the attempted hold-up had not been a success. Only two of the groups had been able to make their way to the street in time. These engaged some Auxiliaries, two of whom were killed. The other groups all encountered military foot patrols and were unable to get to their respective positions.

  Chapter XXXIII

  On Sunday morning, 26th June, Joe and I walked down to Howth to get Mass. We had spent the night happily with some Volunteers who had rented a cottage on the summit of Ben Eadar.

  It was a peaceful, sunny morning, and the little fishing town was crowded with people who had come out from the city to enjoy the sea air.

  We walked down towards the harbour. On our way we met a newsboy carrying a placard. Almost snatching a paper from him, we tore it open.

  ‘Letter from Lloyd George to De Valera Calling a Conference.’

  ‘Truce to be Arranged Immediately.’

  We could not believe our eyes. I thought maybe it was a joke, or a trap to catch us off our guard. But we decided to hasten into town and find out the truth.

  In the city we met some of our comrades who assured us that the news was authentic. We continued, however, to move about with our usual caution as there had been no Cease Fire Order issued by either side.

  Immediately we got into touch with our superior officers and put in a request for leave. This was granted.

  We were in such a state of excitement and exultation that we could do nothing but grin and make over and over again the same remarks. We could not settle to anything. We kept running round, meeting and re-meeting, and always repeating the same exclamations.

  We spent the whole week preparing for our holiday, though, in fact, we did very little. Our preparations consisted mainly in talking about it and anticipating its pleasures.

  It was so wonderful a thing – to go away from all the fear and danger, and the hunted life, into freedom and leisure, that it took a whole week for us to prepare ourselves for such a change.

  We had decided on the Isle of Man as a place in which we could find an atmosphere sufficiently unrestricted. We hardly slept at all on the Sunday night, 3rd July. Boldly, we had ordered a taxi to be at the dispensary at eight o’clock the next morning. While I was dressing I realized that it was the 4th of July – Independence Day in America. It seemed a good omen.

  We were out through the door before the driver had time to knock. There were Joe, Bill and Jim Slattery of the Squad, or Active Service Unit, and Joe Dolan and myself of the intelligence staff. Jim was bandaged up, having lost an arm as a result of the wound he received at the Custom House.

  We drove to Westland Row Station in the highest spirits. I did not feel any longer that I was in the world of everyday things. There seemed a radiance.

  We took tickets for Liverpool.

  As we were about to get on the boat we saw some Auxiliaries standing at the gangway scrutinizing the passengers. We mingled amongst the crowd, anxiously, fearing disaster on account of Jim’s bandages. I was on tenterhooks until the boat started. It seemed hours until a siren was blown and she pulled out from the pier.

  Then we could hold ourselves in no longer. Looking straight towards the Auxiliaries we raised a cheer. They could not stop us now.

  This was my first voyage and fascinated with the ship I set out to explore it. In the dining saloon I found writing tables with notepaper and postcards bearing a picture of the ship. Delighted, I sat down and wrote postcards and letters to a large number of my friends and relatives. I thought of how they would envy me, and I pitied everyone who was not, like myself, on a mailboat making a journey into the unknown.

  At Holyhead we were directed by a porter to a train that would take us to Liverpool. When I saw the train, I stood still in amazement. It was painted cream. It was quite unlike our trains at home. This had the greatest effect upon me in making me realize fully the joy of liberty. I was in a new country and had left behind everything that was a danger and a terror to me.

  We reached Liverpool at about three o’clock. We took a taxi to the house of a friend whose address had been given to us. He welcomed us warmly and asked us what were our plans. We told him that we were going to the Isle of Man.

  He came with us into the city and booked rooms for us in a hotel for the night. There was a boat leaving for Douglas at 10.30 the next morning.

  We spent the evening looking round Liverpool, and when we could remember that we need not look at every passer-by in the light of a possible enemy, we wondered at the change in our situation. We went to a theatre and laughed immoderately at the not very humorous antics of a comedian. I envied the people of Liverpool their peaceful life, fancying they must be some special favourites of Providence.

  When we went to bed it was almost impossible to realize that we need not talk in whispers. We turned on all the electric lights. We pulled up the blinds, wishing the whole world outside to see the glare in which we dared to reveal ourselves.

  Perhaps that waking-up the next morning was the best of all – the slow, gradual realization of our new happy circumstances.

  We decided to have breakfast in bed, to sample every luxury and to do all things contrary to what we were accustomed hitherto.

  I pressed a bell. A maid appeared and I gave an order. And it was a good breakfast! We could not stop laughing.

  ‘What would they say at home to see us now? What are they doing?’

  But we did not want to think of home.

  When we got to Douglas we took rooms in a private hotel – the Broadway. The landlady told us that all guests must be in by eleven o’clock.

  We were delighted with Douglas. But then any place outside Ireland would have delighted us. We bought flannel trousers, cigarette holders and walking sticks. We swaggered about, drawing attention to ourselves – tasting to the full our emancipation from everything furtive, cautious and retired. We spent our evenings on the helter-skelter and the switchbacks. We had our photographs taken. We hired a car and drove round the island, which I admired extremely. And, of course, we took no notice of the rules of the establishment, but roamed the streets till the early hours of the morning. To be out during curfew! To meet no patrols! Never, never could we get used to the delight of that experience.

  We were able to get the Irish Independent each morning. We read that a Truce was signed on the 11th July.

  And when I read that announcement, suddenly Douglas had no more charm for me. I was no longer interested in the island. Dublin and home called me once more. I said goodbye to my companions and took the first boat that sailed from the island direct for home. As we drew near the North Wall I was moved with far deeper feelings than those which I had carried with me on departing.

  I saw our tricolour flag waving from every window. I am not going to describe my emotions. I felt like a kid, a lump in my throat, trying not to burst out crying.

  I jumped on a car. I bade the jarvey drive me through all the principal streets of the city. Dublin! The city was en fête. Flags everywhere! Could it be old Dublin!

  I went home and enjoyed a warm reunion with my family.

  But I could not stay indoors. I was restless. Again I wanted to see everything.

  I went out, wandering through the streets. Unbelieving, blissful!

  Bureau of Military History, 1913–21

  Witness Statement 434

  Charles Dalton

  Member of ‘F’ Company 2nd Battalion

  Irish Volunteers, 1917–.

  Member of Intelligence Squad 1920–.

  Subject

  Activities of ‘F’ Company 2nd Battalion

  1917–1921;

  Intelligence Squad 1920.


  Publisher’s Note: All spelling, capitalisation and punctuation have been left as in the original.

  STATEMENT BY CHARLES DALTON (Colonel, retired)

  86 Morehampton Road, Donnybrook, Dublin.

  I joined the Volunteers, F/Company, 2nd Battalion, in December 1917. My company officer at that time was Frank Henderson. Henderson afterwards went up to the battalion and Oscar Traynor then became company captain.

  After some preliminary company jobs, I was sent for by the brigadier, Dick McKee, and attached to the H.Q. Squad on an assisting basis.

  THE INTELLIGENCE SQUAD.

  After participating with the squad in the seizure of the Castle mails at Dominick St., Dublin, in February 1920, I was again sent for by the brigadier who asked me would I join the G.H.Q. Intelligence Unit, which I did. I reported for duty to the Deputy Director of Intelligence, Liam Tobin, at an office in Crow St. which was used as our headquarters.

  My duties were outlined to me by the Assistant Director of Intelligence, who was in daily communication with Michael Collins. They consisted of tracing the activities of enemy agents and spies, keeping records of enemy personnel, contact with friendly associates in government and Crown service, organising and developing intelligence in the Dublin Brigade as an adjunct to headquarters Information Service, and participating in active service actions arising from our duties.

  Our Department was strengthened from time to time by the inclusion of selected officers, and, with the growth of duties and the increase of activities by the Crown forces, it was later found necessary to set up an additional office to house the Intelligence Department. This office was located over the Brunswick St. Cinema.

  In those years of activity, the sources of our information were very limited, due to the fact that all Government Civil Servants, including the members of the Metropolitan Police, R.I.C. and other Crown forces, had taken an oath of loyalty to the Crown. The fact that they occupied pensionable positions, even though they had mild national leanings, did not induce them to be of help to the Republican movement.