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.