I told him my difficulties. Could he help me with the puncture? “To be sure, Father,” he replied, “I can get you all that you want in no time; and if your Reverence won’t mind I’ll give you a hand at the job.”
In two minutes the whole garrison were out tripping over one another in their eagerness to get solution and patches and the other necessaries. Inside the door I could see dozens of printed notices and official documents pasted on the walls. Amongst them, I have no doubt, was an elaborate description of Dan Breen, and a promise of a huge reward for his capture.
When the job was finished I thanked the Peelers most profusely for their kindness and rode away. I suppose it was discourteous of me not to have left my card with the sergeant.
That night I reached the borders of Tipperary and Offaly and met the others. A few days later all four of us were safely settled in Dublin, which was to be our new headquarters for months to come. Within a few weeks we were planning to arouse the world by shooting the very head of the British Government in Ireland.
CHAPTER XIV.
ON THE TRAIL OF LORD FRENCH.
When we got to Dublin in the Autumn of 1919, there were many signs that the war with the British was soon to develop. Any good judge of the situation at the time could have foreseen the intensive guerilla struggle that was to ensue for a year and a half. Raids for arms were becoming more numerous, and attacks on police patrols were by no means rare. But open warfare had not yet developed. British soldiers and police could go about with comparative safety. Our great danger while in Dublin was from the “G” men, Dublin’s Scotland Yard. These were the detective branch of the Dublin Metropolitan Police, paid by the ratepayers of Dublin to track down criminals, but now mainly employed on political or military work. So far from devoting their attentions to the criminal classes we knew that many of them actually made use of criminals as “touts” or “spotters” to shadow men, or to get information. In the Autumn of 1919 the “G” men, of whom there were a few score all told, were principally engaged in assisting and guiding the British military in midnight raids on the homes of Sinn Feiners, or in raids to seize Sinn Fein literature. They even made their way into Sinn Fein gatherings to take a note of the speeches, and though many of them were known by appearance to almost every person in Dublin they were not afraid, for at that time they seldom got more than a hiding if identified. Day after day one read in the papers of raids on the houses of inoffensive people who never handled firearms in their lives. It was this form of petty tyranny that goaded many into action. Boys and girls, not to speak of men and women, were imprisoned for such offences as having a copy of an Irish song. It was more than flesh and blood could stand.
Towards the end of the year several notoriously obnoxious “G” men were shot dead or wounded in the streets, and in every case their assailants got safely away. Every other means of bringing these men to their senses, or making them realise that they were playing the part of spies and traitors had been tried but failed. As a result of the wholesale attacks made upon them it was in the end found impossible for them to live in their homes, or even to venture on the streets, and they took up their abode in Dublin Castle, whence they issued forth now and again to accompany raiding parties of armed troops. Many of them too resigned when things became too hot for them. I must say, however that a small number who did not resign were never molested, because they confined themselves solely to their ordinary work of arresting criminals. These men had an understanding with our side that they could go about their work provided they never indulged in political activities, or assisted the military. A few others, who remained in the force, afterwards joined our Secret Service, and gave invaluable assistance in the way of official documents and information that they were in a position to obtain. For obvious reasons I cannot go into details on these matters.
When the four of us from Tipperary had become almost settled down in Dublin, and knew the city well, we were soon kept busy, as we wanted to be. Now and again a “G” man got on our track, but we soon dealt with him. We walked about Dublin quite freely and without any disguise. It was a common trick on the part of the R.I.C. to send a man who knew us up from County Tipperary for a few days in the hope of seeing us. These men soon learned sense. They returned home as quickly as they could, for it would not serve their health to get too close on our heels. Probably too a few of them who may have chanced to see us from time to time had wisdom enough not to know us.
We had many good friends in Dublin. Phil Shanahan’s was a great haunt of ours, and one of the most amusing recollections I have of that time is a conversation I had there one evening with a D.M.P. man who, of course, had no notion who I was. He discussed the political situation with me very confidentially, even the Soloheadbeg and Knocklong affairs. He was in complete agreement with the Sinn Feiners—he guessed I was one—but he couldn’t agree to the taking of life. I think I gave the poor man the impression that my views were the same as his own.