Dan Breen and the IRA (11 page)

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.

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 status 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.'

In the fraught months ahead there were many similar public missives involving Breen. The fact that this once overtly silent character was now effectively issuing edicts and seeking to influence public opinion marked a substantial change in his style. He was one of the first of the hard-liner gunmen to enter politics. Within a decade he would be an entirely political, as opposed to a military, figure.

The Third Tipperary Brigade was vocal during the dáil debates which took place between December 1921 and January 1922. Séamus Robinson had been a Sinn Féin TD since 1921 and, naturally, he had a great deal to say about the Treaty and its signatories. His bitter attack on Michael Collins caused disruptions in the chamber: ‘Arthur Griffith has called Collins “the man who won the war”. The press has called him the commander-in-chief of the I.R.A. He has been called “a great exponent of guerrilla warfare” … There are stories going round Dublin of fights he had all over the city – the Custom House in particular … What positions exactly did Michael Collins hold in the army? … Did he ever take part in any armed conflict in which he fought by shooting; the number of such battles or fights; in fact, is there any authoritative record of his having ever fired a shot for Ireland at an enemy of Ireland?'

Breen, accompanied by Seán Hogan, travelled to the United States via London and Montreal. According to
My Fight for Irish Freedom
he met up with Ghandi while passing through London. This seems deeply improbable unless the Indian leader made a secret unrecorded trip to the English capital at this time. A more plausible yarn suggested that efforts were made in London to recruit this now-famous gunman to the cause of Abdel Krim, the Riffian leader who'd established an independent state in the Rif Mountains of Morocco. Krim was busy fighting Morocco's Spanish occupiers, having established what he regarded as a real country with a flag and a name. Such a struggle was very much to Breen's taste – and the people of the Rif were in many ways similar to the community from which he sprang – but he was being recruited as a mercenary gun for hire. He soon found out that Krim's London agent was also hiring former Black and Tans for the North African war. Breen couldn't see himself fighting alongside former Tans, no matter how noble the cause.

In America, Breen and Hogan were reunited with Ned O'Brien, one of the Knocklong rescuers who'd been exiled to America because of his role in that affair. They also spent time with Joe McGarrity, lynchpin of Irish-American support for the IRA. They went to Menlo Park, a small California city which had, during the Great War, developed into an important American military base. The opportunity to purchase guns or ammunition would seem to have been the attraction of Menlo Park.

As things began to heat up back in Ireland, Breen received a telegram from a worried Liam Lynch, asking him to come home as soon as he could. By the time Hogan and Breen were smuggled into Cobh in March 1922, the country was unravelling and the drift towards civil war was clear.

The pro-Treaty dáil had established a Provisional Government and the Provisional authorities were enthusiastically building a proper army, partially equipped by the British. They sought to rule over a twenty-six county Irish Free State. Richard Mulcahy was appointed minister for defence and put in charge of this new force, the National Army.

De Valera, opposing the Treaty, resigned as president of the dáil. On 16 January, the first IRA division – the Second Southern Division led by Ernie O'Malley – repudiated the authority of GHQ. On 18 February, Thomas Malone (Seán Forde) in Limerick issued a communiqué stating that: ‘We no longer recognise the authority of the present head of the army and renew our allegiance to the existing Irish Republic.'

As the British army pulled out of Ireland, barracks were taken over by local IRA units, some pro-Treaty and some opposed. This led to substantial skirmishes and minor hostilities. Breen's first mission, on his return to Ireland, was to go to Limerick where an aggressive stand-off involving mercurial personalities such as Mick Brennan (pro-Treaty) and Ernie O'Malley (anti-Treaty) looked like boiling over. Breen, along with Liam Lynch, De Valera, Richard Mulcahy and countless other national players strove to prevent hostilities breaking out.

By April, the IRA was occupying Dublin's Four Courts, determined to make a 1916-style grand gesture in defence of the republican ideal. The approaching split caused real despondency on both sides. The dark mood of the republicans was well reflected in Ernie O'Malley's recall, in
The Singing Flame
, of time spent in Dublin with Liam Lynch and Séamus Robinson. ‘Liam Lynch was square and determined looking. He tightened his pince-nez glasses as he muttered, “My God, it's terrible, terrible.”

‘Séamus Robinson was dogged. His hair was tousled. He held his clenched fist underneath his underlip. Somehow he had sensed that one day something would go wrong. There was an old antagonism between Mulcahy and himself. Séamus had too much of the French kind of inquiring, critical logic.

‘I sat there white-faced, feeling as if I would like to cry.'

Arthur Griffith, the new president of the dáil, could only address a meeting in Sligo under armed guard. During April and May fruitless efforts were made to establish some sort of pact which could avoid the conflict which was now staring everybody in the face.

Breen was deeply involved in the only initiative which ever looked like avoiding trouble. On 1 May, he was one of the most prominent IRA officers to sign what became known as the Army Document. Endorsed by five pro-Treaty and five anti-Treaty major IRA figures – including Collins, Breen, Mulcahy and Florrie O'Donoghue – the statement said that war seemed all the time more inevitable and that such a war would be a calamity which would leave Ireland broken for generations to come:

To avert the catastrophe, we believe that a closing of the ranks all round is necessary.

We suggest to all leaders, army and political and to all citizens and soldiers of Ireland, the advisability of a union of forces on the basis of the acceptance and utilisation of our present national position in the best interests of Ireland; we require that nothing shall be done that would prejudice our position or dissipate our forces.

We feel that on this basis alone can the situation best be faced, viz:

1. The acceptance of the fact – admitted by all sides – that the majority of the people of Ireland are willing to accept the Treaty.

2. An agreed election with a view to

3. Forming a government which will have the confidence of the whole country.

4. Army unification on this basis.

This partial shift in attitude was, from a republican perspective, deviant thinking on the part of Breen and the others. Conversely, it was equally unorthodox behaviour on the part of government members like Mulcahy and Collins, who was minister for finance in the new administration. Acting as supposed commonwealth rulers, they were making a pact with rebels who sought the destruction of that connection.

One republican paper,
The Plain People
, said that Breen was a Judas who hadn't even received his thirty pieces of silver. In
The Singing Flame
, Ernie O'Malley angrily recalled: ‘Another little crisis occurred. Some of our officers, including Seán O'Hegarty from Cork and Dan Breen, had entered into negotiations with Mulcahy. A statement was published in the press which was signed by both groups, appealing for a unification of the army on the basis of the acceptance of the Treaty. Our officers had no authority from the executive to negotiate. They evidently meant to work the Treaty and allow the army to gain strength until it could declare for independence. They could not substantiate any agreement arrived at and their action tended to show how disorganised we were and how individual attempts at a settlement would whittle away our resistance. No action was taken by Liam Lynch at this breach of discipline.'

The anti-Treaty men who signed up to the Army Document did not, in any way, represent the IRA. Neither, in all likelihood, was their plan likely to win universal approval from the IRA rank and file. Iconic names like Michael Collins and Dan Breen, nevertheless, still had a touch of magic about them. The initiative did take root and was gratefully grasped by a pro-Treaty dáil anxious for peace. De Valera was equally enthusiastic.

The dáil agreed, on 3 May, to see an ‘army deputation' made up of signatories of the Army Document. Breen made his first appearance in the dáil as a non-elected private citizen, a member of a suddenly disorganised and disillusioned IRA.

Parliaments are naturally disinclined to invite active members of armies – of any hue – into their chambers. Eoin MacNeill, who chaired the session, commented: ‘Is there any suggestion as to what course the discussion ought to take? It is unprecedented.'

Arthur Griffith, encouraging the dáil to hear the delegation, said: ‘The time is one of grave national emergency and it is of the first importance that these officers should be heard.'

It was decided that Seán O'Hegarty, commandant of the Cork No. 1 Brigade, would speak on behalf of the others. His speech gave some hint of the frantic backroom negotiations which had preceded their initiative: ‘I have been in Dublin for perhaps three weeks and almost continually in that time public and private efforts were made to bring the two parties here together on some basis. They all failed. I was here myself last week at two meetings of the dáil. What did I find? I found an atmosphere of absolute hostility, personalities indulged in across the room and a sense to me of utter irresponsibility as to what the country was like and the conditions in it … It was only when I realised that it was impossible for the leaders themselves to come to any agreement or, in fact, as I believed, to meet on any basis, that I as a humble individual endeavoured to do what I could. I met Mr Michael Collins on Friday and we talked over the situation generally. I met him again on Saturday with one other signatory to that statement – himself and Mr Mulcahy – and we agreed that we would get together half a dozen men on each side – unofficially, as I took it – to endeavour to come to some agreement upon what appeared to me and to every man who signed that statement a condition appalling to contemplate. I think at the meeting it was I who suggested that a public statement be made and a statement was drafted by two of the signatories, two who have been associated with the anti-Treaty side.'