THE TRUCE.
Early in June, 1921, I learned that a movement was on foot to effect a
compromise with England. It did not surprise me then to hear that a Truce
had been arranged as from July 11th, 1921.
In many respects we welcomed the respite, though we never thought it
would end as it did. For some time our area had been running short of
munitions, and just before the Truce we had sent some of our men to the
continent in the hope of negotiating for a cargo which would attempt to
run the blockade. At the time of the Truce I was Quartermaster of the
Second Southern Division of the I.R.A., but I resigned for reasons I do
not wish to state here. It was just about the time of the Truce that our
Brigades all over Ireland were being grouped into Divisions.
It was like a new life to us to return from the columns to the towns
and cities again. Everywhere we were welcomed and acclaimed as heroes,
even by the people who, two years before, had been describing us as
murderers and assassins. But all this time we were still short of
money. During the months of the Truce I went about almost every day to
race meetings and made scores of friends amongst the racing fraternity
whose information—especially that of the owners—enabled Hogan and myself
to make some very profitable investments. It was the only way we could
obtain money, for the I.R.A. were still an unpaid Volunteer Army.
In Tipperary and Dublin I visited all my old friends, and was welcomed
everywhere. In August I decided to give up racing. At that time the
I.R.A. was devoting special attention to the Northern areas, endeavouring
to equip and train the units there so that when the fight would be
renewed they would play a more active part and relieve some of the
pressure from the Southern counties. I was anxious to give a hand in
this work and went to the north, where I met Charlie Daly, who was since
executed by the Free State during the Civil War. Daly, who was a Kerry
man, was one of the finest and ablest soldiers I ever met. I spent five
weeks with Charlie training the Northern boys in the use of the gun and
the bomb. It was hard work for all of us, but I enjoyed it as I saw much
of Ulster in our long walks and pleasure drives. To make it more exciting
we went into Belfast itself on a few occasions.
I returned to Dublin about the end of September. While I was in the
capital the Dublin Guards presented me with a gold watch and chain, and
Paddy Daly and others, who were later officers of high command in the
Free State Army, said some very nice things about me. Here I must observe
that the watch I received on that occasion was looted from my house in
Carrick-on-Suir ten or eleven months later by the Free State troops who
entered that town.
I remained in Dublin until a few days before the signing of the Treaty.
Then I discovered that a compromise was being made, and I went to the
south once more. I was convinced that if we could show that the Army
was standing solid for what it had fought to achieve the Dail would not
betray the Army. The soldiers, I felt, would keep the politicians on the
straight track. I could not bring myself to believe that the Dail would
take upon itself the responsibility of making a compromise, when it had
never taken responsibility for the Anglo-Irish War. In this I was sadly
mistaken. The very men who were most bitterly opposed to the few who
began the war were now the strongest supporters of the Treaty.
I came to Dublin on December 7th, the day the terms of the Treaty were
made public, and I met Liam Lynch, Sean Hogan, and several I.R.A.
officers. I urged Liam Lynch, who was then in command of the 1st Southern
Division, to end the Truce right away and resume the war. In that way we
might have kept the Army united once the common enemy was again in action
against any section of us. Nobody favoured my plan. Some held out the
vain hope that even if the Treaty were accepted by the Dail it would be
rejected by the people at the polls. I laughed at the hope, knowing that
in any country which has wearied of war the masses of the people will
always accept a compromise.
Disheartened at the failure of my efforts to get the boys united once
more against the enemy, I made up my mind to leave Ireland. I intended to
go to India and strike a blow against the old enemy there and help those
who were fighting the same battle as we had been fighting in Ireland. But
when Sean Hogan and I got in touch with Indian leaders in London they
asked how could Irishmen be trusted to fight for India when they had
deserted their own country?
In despair I decided to go to America. In the middle of December I acted
as “best man” for Seumas Robinson when he was married in Dublin. That
evening I left for London.
As I left Dun Laoghaire I felt completely broken in spirit. I had seen
all our efforts in vain, and the men we trusted had told the world that
the freedom we fought for was the freedom to have our country cut in
twain, and the freedom to take an oath of allegiance to a foreign king.
[Illustration: J. J. HOGAN. FATHER DAN KELLY. DAN BREEN.]
Before I left Dublin I had asked several I.R.A. officers to stand with me
in resuming the war, but they would not accept my views. Had they agreed
I would never have left Ireland, and I warned them that within twelve
months they would be fighting a Civil War.
On the 19th of December, before leaving Ireland, I addressed an open
letter to Commandant Sean McKeon, T.D. In this letter I made my attitude
towards the Treaty perfectly clear. These were my exact words:—
“I wish to point out to you that you are reported to have stated in
An Dail to-day, that this Treaty brings the freedom that is necessary
and for which we are all ready to die. You also are reported to have
previously stated that this Treaty gives you what you and your comrades
fought for.
“As one of your comrades I say that I would never have handled a gun or
fired a shot, nor would I have asked any of my comrades, living or dead,
to raise a hand to obtain this Treaty.
“Let me remind you that to-day is the second anniversary of Martin
Savage’s death. Do you suppose that he sacrificed his life in attempting
to kill one British Governor-General in order to make room for another
British Governor-General?
“I take no party’s side, but I still stand by our old principle of
Complete Separation and entire Independence.”
In London I met Sean Hogan who had crossed before me. It was the first
time I had ever been out of my own country, and for a time the novelty of
life in London and my strange surroundings helped to keep my mind from
the great tragedy of Ireland. We stayed in London for about a fortnight.
During my stay I met Mr. P. L. Smyth, the well-known Dublin Commission
Agent, and he proved a kind friend to us.
Our next trouble was how to get to America. We decided to attempt to
cross from Canada, but we had two great obstacles to overcome.
In the first place we had very little money, and in the second place
we had no passports. How we overcame the passport difficulty I cannot
explain here.
Anyhow, after a three weeks’ journey we landed safely in Canada. From
Canada we successfully crossed into the States, and made our way to
Chicago. Here we were met by my two brothers, John and Pat, and my
sister, Mary, all of whom had been in the United States for some years.
I soon found that in this far away city we were almost at home. We met
fellow-countrymen and fellow-countrywomen everywhere. One of the first we
met was Ned O’Brien, of Galbally, whose health had broken down because
of the wounds he received in the rescue at Knocklong. Other friends we
made included Mrs. McWhorter, a great worker in the Irish cause, Michael
Mulryan, Jim Delaney and Colonel O’Reilly. They all helped to make it a
real holiday for us by showing us everything of note in that great city.
Above all, I marvelled at the great meat-curing factories, most of which
are owned and worked by Irishmen.
We went from Chicago to Philadelphia where a host of friends again
greeted us. Joe McGarrity, that veteran worker for Ireland, was one of
the first to welcome us, and we spent a while in his house where so many
before us—Sean McDermott, Padraig Pearse, Roger Casement, and Eamon de
Valera—had been honoured and entertained. Luke Dillon, too, welcomed us,
and our old friends Seumas O’Doherty and Mrs. O’Doherty, whom we had
known in the old days in Dublin. The kindness of the O’Doherty family to
us I shall always remember with gratitude.
From Philadelphia we travelled to California. There I again met many
Irish friends, including Father Peter Scanlon, Father Dan Kelly, Senior;
and Father Dan Kelly, Junior, all from my own part of the country. I was
delighted to meet Mick McDonnell too, our old comrade of the Ashtown
fight, who had been out there for quite a good while.
California is a delightful place. Although it was mid-winter when I
got there the weather was like the weather we get in Ireland in the
summer-time.
Meantime I was far from being out of touch with affairs in Ireland. The
American papers gave much prominence to the development of events at
home following the acceptance of the Treaty. It was plain that our old
comrades were irrevocably divided and heading for Civil War. Every day
brought fresh stories of new differences and minor conflicts that showed
the situation could end only in one way. In America our countrymen were
divided in the same way as our people at home.
Early in March came the news that Limerick was on the verge of an
outbreak. Different posts in the city were held by the rival sections
of the Volunteers—some supporters of the Treaty and some against it.
Ultimatums had actually passed between the rival commanders there, and
it looked as if at any moment a single shot might begin a conflict that
would soon spread throughout the land.
I was staying with Father Dan Kelly, Senior, at Menlo Park, when a cable
reached me from Ireland asking me to return at once. This message was the
outcome of an agreement made between the rival sections in Limerick, an
agreement which averted a conflict.
Within two days of the receipt of this cablegram I had left California
for Chicago. There I again stayed for a few days with my relatives and
friends. From Chicago I went to Philadelphia where I got the same warm
greeting from Joe McGarrity, Luke Dillon and the O’Dohertys.
We had decided that New York would be the best place from which to
attempt a passage to Ireland, for of course Hogan and I were still
confronted with the same difficulties regarding money and passports as
we had experienced on our outward journey. We could easily have got
passports from the British Consulate if we had asked them as British
subjects, but we would rather have rotted in America. While in New York
we visited the Carmelite Fathers’ place in 39th Street, and also the
Irish Offices in 5th Avenue, where I met Liam Pedlar.
At last, through the help of some Irish friends, both of us got taken on
a vessel that was sailing for Cobh. We were working our way as stokers.
Sean and I set to our work with a will, and had done four hours at a
task which was novel to us. The vessel was to sail within an hour,
when somebody got suspicious of Hogan. He was questioned as to his
nationality, his experience on other vessels, and the result was that he
was ordered to leave the ship on the spot.
Now this was a nice dilemma for me. I saw our four hours’ hard work and
all our efforts to secure the jobs gone for nothing; but I could not
think of leaving Hogan alone in New York without a cent, in his pocket. I
made up my mind that I would not sail without him.
But it was no easy matter to escape from the ship. The crew were
marshalled for the voyage, and to attempt to return to land was a serious
offence, for which I might find myself in irons.
The risk had to be taken. I made a bold bid. I walked straight to the
gangway, but was held up by an officer. I explained to him that I had
important business to do on shore but would not be detained longer than a
few minutes. He must have taken me to be a simple harmless poor worker,
for he accepted my word and allowed me to land. I never saw him or his
ship afterwards.
The loss was not all on his side. All the money we had the night before
we intended to sail had been invested in guns, and these were on the
ship. It would be madness to try to bring them with me, so I had to
suffer the loss. My comrade was more to me than Krupp’s factory.
We had a few more bitter disappointments before we could again get on a
liner. Finally we found ourselves on the high seas once more, sailing for
Cobh.
We landed in Ireland early in April. A friend to whom my wife had wired
to meet me at Cobh brought me the happy news that not only my wife but a
son was waiting my arrival in Dublin.