VI
Word came through from headquarters that we were to get ourselves over to the North Strand, a bomb had dropped and there was devastation over there.
ALEC KING, HEAD OF NO. 6 AIR RAID PRECAUTIONS (ARP) DEPOT
As early as August 1940, it became clear that Ireland’s strategic position in the Atlantic was going to cause problems in relation to German aggression. Cargo ships sailing to the British mainland were being routinely targeted off the Irish coast during the Battle of the Atlantic, which proved to be the longest battle of the war. In total 36,200 naval crew and 36,000 merchant seamen were lost on the Allied side; 3,500 merchant vessels and 175 warships were sunk; and 741 RAF aircraft destroyed. The figures were equally stark on the Axis side: 30,000 U-boat sailors killed, and 783 U-boats and 47 other warships lost. Churchill himself was gravely concerned, later writing, ‘the only thing that ever really frightened me during the war was the U-boat peril’.
On 20 August 1940 Ireland had its first glimpse of the Battle of the Atlantic when a German bomber in pursuit of the SS Macville strafed Blackrock Island, County Mayo, damaging several lantern panes and the roof of the lighthouse. While there were no casualties, it was a sign of things to come.
The sleepy village of Campile, County Wexford lay along the main railway line from Rosslare to Cork where a viaduct crossed the famed River Barrow. Until the night of 26 August 1940, the village was best known as the location of a camp used by the United Irishmen during the 1798 rebellion. The main employer in the area was the Shelburne Co-op and to the local people the war was of little concern. But everything changed at 1.30 p.m. that day, when Hitler’s Luftwaffe rained bombs on the defenceless village. Locals initially thought the aircraft was targeting the railway line, but it soon became apparent that they had a different target. The Luftwaffe dropped their lethal payload directly on the Shelburne Co-op, killing three local women, Mary Ellen Kent (aged 35), Kathleen Kent (25) and Kathleen Hurley (25). All three worked in the Co-op and lived locally. Mary Ellen oversaw the staff restaurant, while Kathleen Kent was in charge of the drapery section. The three women didn’t stand a chance – one of the bombs scored a direct hit on the building while they were inside, and no one could have survived the firestorm that followed.
Shortly after the explosion members of the LDF rushed to the scene to search the debris for any survivors. They removed the bodies and set about trying to put out the fire. It wasn’t long before eyewitnesses began to tell the LDF men of the events that had led up to the bombing. A lone plane had been spotted 10 minutes before the bombing, circling high above the town as if it was observing the area. Five bombs in total were dropped, one incendiary and four explosives. One of the bombs failed to explode and was later taken into military possession. Members of the LDF had noticed that it bore German army markings, and this information was conveyed to Military Intelligence. In the maelstrom that followed, two little girls named McCrohane suffered facial injuries from shattered glass. They were found shortly afterwards running along a local road crying for their father. In a cruel twist of fate, the bombs had been dropped during the Co-op’s lunch hour, and all 40 staff were out of the building except for the three women who were killed. The manager of the Co-op, Simon Murphy, had been chatting to the local priest when he noticed the plane circling above them:
A plane appeared overhead. It looked very large and foreign. I went in to my luncheon and thought no more about the plane. I was inside the restaurant for about three minutes when there was a terrible crash, and I next found myself standing in the yard, having been blown backwards through the window. There were clouds of dust, debris and falling stones and debris accompanied by the shrieking of women. Persons who ran into the cold storage department of the creamery to take shelter found that the plant had been put out of action and they had to leave owing to escaping ammonia gas and rush outside to a field where they lay down. All was quiet for a few minutes then one of the stores burst into flames. With a number of other men in the field I hurriedly collected about twenty-five extinguishers to fight the blaze.
It later emerged that Kathleen Kent would have been out of the building on her lunch only she was delayed in dealing with a customer. Kathleen Hurley had only returned from holidays the day before the plane struck.
Local eyewitnesses had spotted a distinctive German cross on the body of the aircraft, which distinguished it as a Luftwaffe plane. This, coupled with evidence from the unexploded bomb, confirmed that it was a Luftwaffe attack. De Valera issued a public statement on the bombing via the Government Information Bureau:
A bomber aircraft of German Nationality flew over the area of Campile, Ballynitty, Bannow and Duncormick Co. Wexford between 2 o clock and 3 o clock this afternoon. Bombs were dropped at each of these points. The co-operative creamery at Campile was wrecked. Three girls were killed, one injured by fallen masonry. The Irish Chargé d’Affairs in Berlin has been instructed to make a protest to the German government and to claim full reparation.
Privately, de Valera contacted Mr Murphy at the creamery to convey his and the government’s deepest sympathies to the parents and relatives of the three women who had been killed. It wasn’t long before rumours began to circulate as to why Campile had been attacked. While it was likely that the aircraft was simply lost, believing it was over Northern Ireland or Wales, the theory that the bombing was a warning shot from the Germans began to gather currency. Following the evacuation of Dunkirk a few months earlier, German forces had found butter boxes from the Shelburne Co-op, and many people believed that the bombing was retaliation against Ireland for supplying the British Army with food. Others felt that the bombing was a direct warning to de Valera to strictly observe his policy of neutrality and to not supply the British in any way.
The creamery had been supplying food to civilians on the British mainland, so this could have been a reason for targeting it. It had also recently installed German machinery, so it was entirely plausible that the Germans knew what the creamery was capable of supplying in terms of aid to the British. The German government paid the Irish government £9,000 compensation in 1943 for what they claimed was a navigational error, but the incident is still shrouded in mystery and there is still no definitive answer to why the Luftwaffe targeted Campile. What is certain is that the bombing initiated an increasingly difficult task for de Valera and G2 – maintaining neutrality in the face of increased German aggression towards Ireland.
Towards the end of 1940, the Luftwaffe again violated Irish airspace. On 20 December 1940, shortly after seven o’clock, residents of Dún Laoghaire in south Dublin noticed what they thought were flares in the sky above the coastal town. They soon realised that these were bombs when they began exploding upon impact. One of the bombs fell on Sandycove railway station, injuring three people. The same day bombs fell in the townland of Shantough near Carrickmacross, County Monaghan. The bombing coincided with Luftwaffe attacks on Liverpool and may have been due to navigational errors by Luftwaffe pilots. However, Military Intelligence soon noticed increasing numbers of aircraft making deep penetrations into Irish airspace and subsequent protests were made by the government in relation to this brazen violation of Irish neutrality.
As 1940 ended, intelligence circles were deeply apprehensive about what the new year would bring. On New Year’s Day tensions increased yet again when eight German bombs fell on Duleek and Julianstown, County Meath. Miraculously, despite the number of bombs that were dropped, there were no fatalities. The following morning, shortly after six o’clock, two bombs were dropped in Terenure, County Dublin, destroying several houses and injuring seven people. Two unexploded bombs fell on waste ground near Fortfield Road, Dublin. The Luftwaffe also dropped bombs on Ballymurrin, County Wexford. Incendiary devices fell on the Curragh Racecourse and in County Wicklow. Three members of the Shannon family, sisters Mary Ellen (aged 40), Brigid (38) and their niece Kathleen (16) lost their lives in a bombing incident in Knockroe near Borris in County Carlow.
The Dublin bombings caused no fatalities but there was considerable damage done to property. Two bombs had been dropped in Rathdown Park, one creating a large crater and the other damaging several houses in the area. The bombings continued into the morning of 3 January, when bombs fell on houses in Dublin’s Donore Terrace on the South Circular Road. There were no fatalities, but three houses were destroyed and over 50 others were damaged, including a church, a synagogue and a primary school. In total 20 people were injured. Such was the volume and frequency of the bombing raids that G2 began to suspect that they were a deliberate act of war designed to entice Ireland into the conflict. Dan Bryan’s suspicions were raised by the fact that the bombings had taken place following the Irish authorities’ refusal to allow Hempel to increase his staff at the German Legation.
Hempel’s plan to increase his staff led to a real concern in G2 that he would bring intelligence officers to work in the legation. Acting on advice from G2, de Valera denied Hempel’s request and issued an order that any German staff destined for the legation who attempted to land in contravention of his order be arrested immediately. German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop was furious at de Valera’s stance and Hempel told Joseph Walshe at the Department of External Affairs that there would be consequences. There were also rumours beginning to circulate that the bombings had been carried out by the British using captured German military hardware to increase pressure on Ireland to enter the war and give access to the Treaty Ports. Indeed, German propaganda radio broadcasts had hinted at such a possibility and figures such as William Joyce – the infamous Lord Haw-Haw – were quick to make such connections, however spurious they were.
Suspicions deepened further on 5 May 1941 when bombs were dropped near Glengad Head, Malin, County Donegal. Although the event went largely unnoticed by the public, it is remembered locally and was noted by Military Intelligence. While tension was running high, the number of casualties were low and it was generally believed that the bombings were caused by navigational errors due to Luftwaffe aircraft falsely believing they were flying over Northern Ireland or Wales or Liverpool. Indeed, the government itself believed that the attacks were made in error and it attributed the Dublin attacks to navigational errors caused by bad weather – there had been heavy snow in the Dublin area on 1 January. Minister for Defence Frank Aiken acknowledged at Cabinet that the planes were German and that a complaint had been lodged with the German authorities. But this was in reality the calm before the storm.
The tension that had been building during previous bomb attacks had largely gone unnoticed by most of the residents of Dublin. As May drew to a close, and as people went about their business preparing for the upcoming bank holiday weekend, they were blissfully unaware of the onslaught that would be unleashed on the city by the Luftwaffe. Early on the morning of 31 May, Hitler’s forces launched their most deadly attack of the war on Irish soil. Army intelligence had received reports the previous night of German aircraft overflying the east coast and breaching Irish airspace. Just after midnight, army searchlights were activated in the city to detect any bombers flying over Dublin. G2 was particularly concerned by reports of explosions out at sea, which indicated that bombs were being dumped. Fears grew that Dublin might be targeted – mistakenly or otherwise – once more. Anti-aircraft gunners were ordered to begin firing to deter any suspect aircraft that might stray over the city. Despite all the precautions, G2’s worst fears were realised.
At 1.30 a.m. reports began to filter through that bombs had been dropped on North Richmond Street and Rutland Place, and another was reported to have landed in the Phoenix Park near the zoo. Initial reports suggested that while the zoo buildings had been damaged, no staff or animals had been hurt. In Áras an Uachtaráin President Douglas Hyde was awoken by the sound of the explosions shattering the windows of the presidential residence. Worse was to follow. Shortly after 2 a.m. a German landmine was dropped on North Strand Road between the historic Five Lamps and Newcomen Bridge. The explosion wrought utter destruction, ripping through buildings and leaving a trail of ruin in its wake. As the dust settled, the emergency services raced to the scene to try to help survivors and recover the bodies of the dead. The LDF cordoned off the area around the North Strand as mobile units of St John Ambulance treated survivors. The more severely injured were rushed immediately to the Mater Hospital.
The LDF, the Fire Brigade, Civil Defence and many local civilians clawed desperately through the rubble to find the bodies of the deceased. Initial reports suggested that 27 people had died, but it later emerged that there had been 29 fatalities and over 90 people had been injured. Such was the destruction that over 400 people were left homeless. One of the most horrific incidents of the bombing was the deaths of the entire Browne family of 24 North Strand Road. Harry and Mary Browne and their children, Maureen, Ann, Edward and Angela, as well as Harry’s 75-year-old mother, Mary, all perished in the attack. Harry was a member of the LDF and had gone out to help as the first bombs fell. Then he decided to return to his home to be with his family. The house suffered a direct hit and Harry was found partially clothed with the door knocker of his house in his hand. The funerals of the Browne family were the first of the 29 that followed. They were interred at their home place, Drumcooley, near Edenderry, County Offaly.
On 5 June 1941 Taoiseach Éamon de Valera rose to his feet in Dáil Éireann to extend his sympathy to the families of all those who died in North Strand and to assure the public that his government would seek answers from the German government:
Members of the Dáil desire to be directly associated with the expression of sympathy already tendered by the government on behalf of the nation to the great number of our citizens [1,584] who have been so cruelly bereaved by the recent bombing. Although a complete survey has not yet been possible, the latest report which I have received is that 27 persons were killed outright or subsequently died; 45 were wounded or received other serious bodily injury and are still in hospital; 25 houses were completely destroyed and 300 so damaged as to be unfit for habitation, leaving many hundreds of our people homeless. It has been for all our citizens an occasion of profound sorrow in which the members of this House have fully shared. [Members rose in their places.] The Dáil will also desire to be associated with the expression of sincere thanks which has gone out from the government and from our whole community to the several voluntary organisations the devoted exertions of whose members helped to confine the extent of the disaster and have mitigated the sufferings of those affected by it. As I have already informed the public, a protest has been made to the German government. The Dáil will not expect me, at the moment, to say more on this.
The same day de Valera attended the funerals of 12 of those killed, who were buried by Dublin Corporation at a public funeral held at the Church of St Laurence O’Toole, Seville Place. Archbishop McQuaid led the mourners in prayer as the city tried to come to terms with the tragic events.
Thoughts in government turned to the reasons for the bombing. Speculation was rife that perhaps it was another case of a lost aircraft, but there were also whisperings of something more sinister. Was it a warning to Dublin to stick to its policy of neutrality? After all, there had been reports of Ireland’s favourable attitude towards the Allies. De Valera instructed the Irish Ambassador in Berlin, William Warnock, to make a firm protest to the German authorities. The German government did accept responsibility and offered to pay compensation. Warnock later told Joseph Walshe at the Department of External Affairs that the Germans had assured him that the bombing was accidental:
As, however, the Irish government state that, according to their investigations, the bombs dropped on Dublin are of German origin, and, further, as, owing to the very strong wind prevailing in high altitude on the night of May 30th–May 31st, other German aircraft, without noticing it, may also have reached the east coast of Ireland through having been blown off their course, the possibility cannot be excluded that such aeroplane(s) dropped the bombs.
In the circumstances, the German government does not hesitate to express their sincere regret to the Irish government. In view of the friendly relations existing between Germany and Ireland, the German government are further prepared to pay compensation for the deplorable loss of life and injury to persons and property. While reserving the question of the payment of compensation for agreement at a later date, the German government ask the Irish government, on their part, to continue to do everything necessary to clear up the matter. On the German side, the strictest instructions have been issued once more to prevent the possibility of similar incidents in the future.
Dan Bryan had his own theory. He believed that the bombing was accidental but that it had been caused, not by the weather, but by unintended radio interference from the British. Bryan was referring to what subsequently became known as the Battle of the Beams.
By the time of the North Strand bombing, radio navigation for flying had reached a level of sophistication that enabled the Luftwaffe to bomb with increasing accuracy during the night. In an effort to thwart this, British scientists had developed methods of jamming radio signals to Luftwaffe aircraft. This was widely in use by the British Air Ministry at the time of the Dublin attacks. The concept of using a ‘beam’ to aid navigation had its origins in the early 1930s, and it was used to assist landing without any outside help. The process involved two directional radio signals that were aimed to the left and right of a runway’s midline. Aircraft radio operators listened to these signals and sent a Morse code signal into the two beams to distinguish left and right. The system made it possible to land safely during the night. Göring took the concept a step further with the Luftwaffe, using large antennae that provided greater accuracy at longer ranges. These were named Knickebein and X-Gerät and were used to devasting effect in German bombing raids during the Blitz.
Such was the devastating accuracy of German bombing raids in British cities that MI5 made a concerted effort to glean information about how the German system worked. To counter it, the British began sending their own Morse code signals to trick German aircraft into believing they were centred when in fact they were totally off course. This method was so effective that the Germans believed the British were able to bend radio signals. To counter the British, the Germans invented a new system, Y-Gerät, which operated in a different way, but the British soon rendered this system useless. The Germans soon became convinced that the British would successfully be able to jam their transmissions no matter what innovations they came up with.
Bryan believed that the jamming of Luftwaffe radio signals by the British had caused the Germans to bomb Dublin, and that it may also have explained many of the other bombing incidents around the country during the previous year. He outlined this point to Prof. Carter during one of their many taped interviews:
You know that the Germans bombed Dublin. My assumption is that the Germans were lost. They were being directed by a German beam and the British bent the beam and misdirected them. I think they were lost.
British Prime Minister Winston Churchill held the same view:
On the very first night when the Germans had committed themselves to the ‘Y apparatus’ our new counter measures came into action against them. The success of our efforts was evident from the acrimonious remarks heard passing between the pathfinding aircraft and their controlling ground stations by our listening instruments. The faith of the enemy air crews in their new device was thus shattered at the outset and after many failures the method was abandoned. The bombing of Dublin on May 30th 1941, may well have been an unforeseen and unintended result of our interference with ‘Y’.
Bryan had to keep his counsel on these matters and it was only in later years that he voiced his opinion. After the war the West German government accepted responsibility for the North Strand bombing and by 1958 it had paid Ireland £327,000 in compensation, using Marshall Aid funds. While the West German government had accepted responsibility for the bombing, neither Austria nor East Germany ever made any such admission or made any reparations. Despite Bryan’s and G2’s assumption that the bombing raids were due to forced navigational errors, a cloud of controversy continued to hang over the affair.
The Luftwaffe dropped bombs over Irish towns on two further occasions in 1941. In June, Arklow in County Wicklow was bombed in a raid that caused damage but no casualties. The final bombing incident took place on 24 July in Dundalk, County Louth, when the Luftwaffe dropped bombs that caused minor damage to houses but no casualties. Much of the uncertainty around the reasons for the bombings were fuelled by propagandists such as Lord Haw-Haw, who regularly cited Dublin as a target over the airwaves. In one radio broadcast he had mentioned Dublin’s Amiens Street train station as a possible target and its proximity to the North Strand only served to fuel fears that the attack had been deliberate. He also claimed that Dundalk was a possible bombing target because it served as a shipping point for cattle going to Britain.
Another possible reason for the bombings was the perceived favourable treatment given to downed Allied aircraft. It is also possible that a highly clandestine agreement between Ireland and Britain had irked the Germans to the point of engaging in attacks on Irish soil. In January 1941 a meeting took place in Dublin between Taoiseach Éamon de Valera and the British Representative Sir John Maffey, at which it was agreed that flying boats based at RAF Castle Archdale on Lough Erne, County Fermanagh would be permitted to fly across a four-mile stretch of Irish airspace from Belleek, County Fermanagh to Ballyshannon, County Donegal, thus avoiding having to fly north through Northern Ireland and out to sea.
This major concession to the Allies became known as the Donegal Air Corridor and it allowed the British to extend their patrols westwards by at least 100 miles, giving them a greater advantage in the Battle of the Atlantic. While the agreement was top secret, it was more than obvious to local people in south Donegal/west Fermanagh, who often witnessed Catalina and Sunderland planes flying over the area. The Donegal corridor was a great success for the Allies and flying boats were able to provide air support for shipping convoys as far as away as the Bay of Biscay, the North Sea and Gibraltar. Flying boats from Lough Erne sank at least nine U-boats and damaged many more stationed at the Kriegsmarine base at Brest in north-western France.
It is clear that Hitler was aware that flying boats were using Irish airspace over Donegal, and Lord Haw-Haw made a pointed reference to ‘the swans of Lough Erne’ in his radio broadcasts. Indeed, just four days before the North Strand bombing, a Lough Erne flying boat had perhaps its greatest success of the war. On 26 May 1941 the crew of a Catalina flying boat based at Lough Erne and piloted by Ensign Tuck Smith spotted the famous German battleship the Bismarck in a gap in the clouds while on patrol 350 nautical miles west of Brest. Despite heavy enemy gunfire, Smith continued to keep the Bismarck under surveillance. He then directed other aircraft and gunships to the area before being relieved due to fuel shortage and returning to base. The Bismarck was subsequently sunk, giving the British a decisive victory in the ongoing Battle of the Atlantic. The British Board of the Admiralty subsequently issued congratulations to all those involved:
Their Lordships congratulate C.-in-C., Home Fleet, and all concerned in the unrelenting pursuit and successful destruction of the enemy’s most powerful warship. The loss of HMS Hood and her company, which is so deeply regretted, has thus been avenged and the Atlantic made more secure for our trade and that of our allies. From the information at present available to Their Lordships there can be no doubt that had it not been for the gallantry, skill, and devotion to duty of the Fleet Air Arm in both Victorious and Ark Royal, our object might not have been achieved.
G2 worked in close conjunction with its counterparts in the Allied forces. Any crashed Allied aircraft were promptly reported to Military Intelligence and efforts were made to spirit surviving servicemen into Northern Ireland and to recover the remains of any dead servicemen. On 21 March 1941 Catalina AM 265 crashed near Aunagh Hill, Glenade on the Leitrim/Donegal border near the town of Kinlough. Local LDF at Kinlough promptly contacted the army barracks in Manorhamilton, County Leitrim, which relayed news of the crash to G2 in Athlone. Dan Bryan promptly dispatched Commandant James Power from Athlone along with an attachment from Finner Camp (between Ballyshannon and Bundoran) to investigate the crash and, if possible, to help any survivors. Sadly, the plane had been rendered an inferno by the crash, due to the fact that it been carrying depth charges to deploy against U-boats, and there were no survivors. The LDF carried the bodies down from the mountain and laid them out in the parish hall in Kinlough. Shortly afterwards arrangements were made to contact the British Representative Sir John Maffey to have the bodies repatriated. Incidents such as this were a common occurrence and stood in stark contrast to how Axis crashes were dealt with by the Irish authorities.
This contrast is probably best exemplified by the crashing of a Luftwaffe Heinkel 111H-5 at Tacumshane, Lady’s Island, County Wexford on 3 March 1941. The bomber, piloted by Lieutenant Alfred Henzl, had been hit by enemy fire near St George’s Channel during an attack on an Allied convoy during the Battle of the Atlantic. One engine had been badly damaged and the rear gunner had been killed in the gun battle. Henzl knew that he had to make an emergency landing and had the option of landing in either Britain or Ireland. Naturally he was going to choose neutral Ireland as he believed he and the crew would receive favourable treatment if they survived the landing. The crew estimated that they had enough fuel to make it to County Wexford and picked out an area near Rostoonstown Strand where they could make an emergency landing. After successfully landing the damaged aircraft, Henzl and the crew set up the plane’s machine gun and attempted to destroy the aircraft to get rid of any sensitive information.
The plane had been observed entering Irish airspace by the Coast Watching Service, which promptly alerted the Gardaí and LDF. When the Irish authorities arrived on the scene, they requested the Germans stop firing at the plane, an order that the Germans ignored. After the firing stopped, the Germans were promptly placed in custody and taken to Wexford army barracks. A local solicitor and priest, who were fluent in German, made arrangements for the Germans to phone Hempel at the German Legation to inform him of their crash landing. The men were then transferred to the Curragh Camp in County Kildare where they were interned for the rest of the war at ‘K-Lines’, or the No. 2 Interment Camp, as it was officially known. K-Lines was a newly constructed barbed-wire camp at the Curragh close to Tin Town, the No. 1 Internment Camp, in which members of the IRA were held.
The favourable treatment given to the Allies and the treatment of the Germans was not lost on Hempel, who regularly kept Ribbentrop informed of events in Ireland. With uncertainty around the reasons for the bombings on neutral Ireland still very much an open wound, tensions were further heightened by the arrival of another German spy in the country in March 1941.
Amid all the chaos of the bombing raids on Ireland, both North and South, on 12 March 1941 a thin, wiry man named Günther Schütz gently parachuted into a field in County Wexford. Schütz had been sent by the Abwehr to engage in economic espionage and to observe British convoy movements. His handlers were keen to find out any information that might be of use in relation to Northern Ireland. Schütz was flown to Ireland on board a Heinkel aircraft piloted by the same man who had dropped Hermann Görtz the previous year. Schütz was given a fake alias and documentation identifying him as a South African national named Hans Marschner. He also had with him a unique coding mechanism involving a series of microdots that he intended to use to communicate with his handlers in Berlin. This process of encryption involved minimising written messages to the size of punctuation marks which could then be viewed using a microscope. Schütz’s instructions for his spying mission were concealed in the punctuation of various innocuous newspaper adverts for aspirin and articles with a botanical theme.
Much like Görtz, Schütz’s arrival into Ireland was haphazard. He was originally to have been dropped in County Kildare, but navigational errors had led the plane to County Wicklow. His troubles soon got worse when he began to draw attention to himself in the Wicklow countryside. Signs identifying local areas had been removed during the war and locals in the area around Taghmon, where Schütz found himself, soon began to grow suspicious at the German asking them for directions. Early on the morning after he landed, Schütz was apprehended by gardaí and transferred to Mountjoy prison. His microscope and advertisements were taken to be analysed by Dr Richard Hayes and Colonel Éamon de Buitléar, who also both interrogated Schütz at length about the reasons for his mission. Hayes broke the microdot system, and the information was shared by Dan Bryan with his counterparts in MI5 and the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the USA’s wartime intelligence service and precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). While such material was obviously of great use to the Allies and was much appreciated, Bryan was receiving little information in return, much to this dismay of others in G2, particularly de Buitléar. The ‘’22 men’, as Bryan often called them, still harboured huge distaste for the British following the War of Independence, yet Bryan was determined to share any relevant information – he knew it was more beneficial to do so than to attempt to go it alone on security matters. The microdot system was completely unknown to the Allies at the time, so Hayes’s success at breaking it was an important cryptographical breakthrough. Given such an important contribution to the war effort, the lack of a two-way flow of information from the OSS and MI5 was noted by many of Bryan’s detractors.
The Schütz affair came to the attention of the British and was raised by the British Representative Sir John Maffey with Joseph Walshe at the Department of External Affairs. Walshe later informed the Taoiseach about his conversation with Maffey:
He [Maffey] then asked about the parachutist who was captured a few days ago. I had made enquiries from Col. Archer and Chief Supt. Carroll, and I gave him the following information:- The prisoner’s name was Hans Marschner [Günther Schütz’s alias]. He was born at Schwidnitz in 1912. His father was a chemist. He went to England in April, 1939, and worked in the dispensary attached to the German Hospital in London … In the course of further conversation, and in reply to questions by Sir John Maffey, I told him that Marschner disavowed any intention of interfering with our neutrality or giving any information about Ireland, and that his purpose was to get to England where he would use his set for some purpose unknown. Generally, the prisoner did not show much intelligence. His English was good on the whole. His authorities seemed to have deceived him into believing that getting back to Germany (via Lisbon) was a relatively easy task. I remarked to Maffey how exceedingly difficult it was for a foreigner to escape notice in Ireland … Maffey agreed, and commended the watchfulness of the Guards in all cases which in any way had come under his notice.
While Maffey had been placated, the Schütz affair was to take another drastic turn, one that reflected badly on the intelligence services. On 15 February 1942, Schütz escaped from Mountjoy. He had managed to acquire women’s clothing and make-up by fooling the prison governor into believing they were to be used as gifts for his wife in Germany. Once his disguise was complete, he was able to file the bars off his cell using a file he had acquired in the prison workshop, and then descended over the prison wall using curtain ties. He then made his way to the houses of various IRA members who provided him with lodgings as he evaded the authorities. The whole incident was highly embarrassing for the Irish authorities and further bolstered the British perception that the Irish were unable to deal with the security situation. Schütz was finally apprehended on 30 April 1942 after a huge manhunt. He was arrested in the home of Caitlín Brugha, the widow of the famous republican Cathal Brugha, who had been hiding Schütz in a concealed room in her house. Schütz was taken to Arbour Hill and then to a newly constructed prison camp for German internees in Custume barracks in Athlone.
Bryan was astonished that Schütz had been given such a sophisticated microdot coding system when the Abwehr had tasked him with mundane economic espionage:
The funny thing about Schütz was that, we didn’t find out until afterwards. Schütz had the most elementary instructions as to economic intelligence he was to do. In microdots on one piece of paper. What amazed me was … why was it necessary for this type of thing … that he was to get answers to the most elementary conditions in Belfast.
The Schütz affair had temporarily shifted the authorities’ focus away from finding Hermann Görtz, who was continuing to cause embarrassment to Bryan and G2. Görtz had been on the run for almost a year by the time Schütz arrived in Ireland. His interactions and multiple escape attempts from Ireland in the interim had been a major concern to Bryan and his colleagues.
Görtz successfully evaded capture for most of 1940 and 1941, and his continued freedom was a source of both embarrassment and intrigue. Following the raid on Stephen Carroll-Held’s house, Görtz had first made his way back to Laragh in County Wicklow and was then moved around various IRA safe houses throughout Dublin. While it seemed obvious that Görtz would have dealings with the IRA, it was his liaisons with people from mainstream Irish society that raised eyebrows and led to mutterings that his freedom had been sanctioned at a higher level. Görtz was alleged to have had unofficial meetings with members of Dáil Éireann up to and including government ministers such as Dr Jim Ryan, the Minister for Agriculture, and TDs such as Christopher Byrne. Görtz also stayed with a prominent physician in Blackrock, who treated him for an ongoing ulcer problem. Görtz’s luck began to run out in early 1941 when it became obvious to his Abwehr spymasters that the IRA was incapable of aiding them in any way in the ongoing war against the British.
Realising that his mission to Ireland had been an abject failure, Görtz made several attempts to escape the country. After a failed attempt to get dropped off on Inishduff Island in County Donegal, Görtz tried to flee to France via boat from Fenit, County Kerry. Although gardaí managed to arrest the crew, Görtz himself slipped away with the help of a sympathetic Garda named James Crofton. Crofton was an IRA plant in the Garda Special Branch and was a close confidant of IRA Chief of Staff Stephen Hayes. (There were so many IRA plants in Special Branch that even a brother-in-law of Hayes, Larry de Lacey, was working in the unit as a mole.) Crofton had a seafaring background, and the idea was for the pair to escape to Germany via motorboat and for Crofton to act as Hayes’s representative to the Germans. Crofton, while a member of the Garda Special Branch, was not attached to the political Special Branch.
The caper nearly paid off and Crofton had managed to fool the Gardaí into letting himself and Görtz away on the boat. The escape attempt was only scuppered when Florrie O’Donoghue, who had been in charge of the Munster region, recognised Crofton and instructed the local LDF to arrest him. Görtz, however, managed to run away before he could also be apprehended. O’Donoghue liaised with Archer and Bryan on what had happened in Fenit and alerted them to the fact that Görtz had escaped yet again. Crofton was dismissed from the Gardaí and sentenced to five years’ imprisonment for his role in the events.
Throughout the entire year that Görtz had been on the run he had been blessed with good fortune and for a time Dan Bryan even suspected that he had managed to escape back to Germany, which he alludes to in the tapes:
He [Görtz] was lucky. The first thing that happened with Görtz was, we assumed and he disappeared for some time, that he had got out of the country. We couldn’t, you see, account for just how he did get out but we thought he did with hostages. Of course, he was lying exceedingly low. Now he was resting down by Brittas Bay. If he was in some chalet down there – I mean that kind of place somebody could go down, unusual people would go and stay there and they’d just say, ‘Oh, he’s unusual,’ and not pay much attention to him. If he went to live some place down near Cong, somewhere, the neighbours would immediately be trying to find out who he was. But in Brittas Bay or down those places, they’re used to that kind of person. They don’t pay so much attention.
Görtz made a further attempt to escape from Brittas Bay on 13 August 1941 by motor boat but had to return to shore when his engine flooded. He tried again in September, but this again ended in failure. Görtz made one final escape attempt on 20 September 1941 by motorboat, but again to no avail. Realising that he was not going to escape, Görtz returned to Dublin, where he relied on the charity of two sisters, Marie and Bridie Farrell, who kept Görtz in their house at 7 Spencer Villas in Glenageary, near Dún Laoghaire, County Dublin. (The house was being kept under surveillance by G2.) Görtz introduced himself to the new Chief of Staff of the IRA, Pearse Paul Kelly, also known as Paul Kelso, a native of Dungannon, County Tyrone and a hard-line republican. Stephen Hayes had been relieved of his role due to the ongoing and farcical Görtz situation. Indeed, Görtz blamed Hayes for his arrest and this antipathy for Hayes was also felt by Kelly and others in the IRA who suspected Hayes of being a Garda informer. Hayes was arrested by the IRA and an internal investigation was carried out. During his interrogation at 20 Castlewood Park in Rathmines, in his own words, ‘all they did was beat the hell outta me’, but he managed to escape, presenting himself in a dishevelled state at Rathmines Garda station.
It was decided to move Görtz one last time to a safe house at 1 Blackheath Park in Clontarf. Pearse Paul Kelly was suspicious of the house and suspected that it was being watched by G2 and the Garda Special Branch. However, unknown to both Kelly and Görtz, an acquaintance of Görtz’s named Joseph Andrews had already informed the Gardaí that Görtz would be staying in the house. The net was closing in faster than either Görtz or Kelly could have possibly imagined. Görtz was at this stage highly paranoid that he was going to be captured, and he left the house on 17 September but returned after a few weeks. He was convinced that MI5 had bugged the house, but it was the Irish authorities who were about to capture him.
On 27 November the house was raided by the Garda Special Branch, Görtz was arrested under the Special Powers Act and taken to Arbour Hill Prison. The arrest had occurred by accident – gardaí had actually been raiding the house next door when they heard strange noises coming from the neighbouring house. Pearse Kelly was also arrested and sent to the Curragh to be interned with other IRA prisoners. Kelly became the Officer Commanding of IRA internees and had considerable success in improving the conditions of prisoners by ending physical punishments, increasing education and starting concerts and sporting activities in the camp. He was released in 1946 and became a journalist with the Irish Independent. In 1958 he was appointed editor of the Evening Herald and in 1961 he became Head of News at RTÉ. Kelly died in Dublin in 1974 aged 57.
During the raid in Clontarf, gardaí stumbled on a treasure trove of incriminating material relating to Görtz, including a diary written on sheafs of paper in which he had described his escapades in meticulous detail. While the authorities didn’t find any useful material relating to the Abwehr, they did gain a good insight into Görtz’s mindset. They also found a sum of money in addition to Görtz’s Wehrmacht identity card and a picture of Frank Ryan. In the German Legation, Hempel made a decision to avoid any contact with Görtz in case it brought any negative publicity on him and the legation. Despite this best efforts Görtz eventually contacted Hempel from prison requesting his help. In the meantime, Bryan had arranged for Görtz to be interrogated by Dr Richard Hayes in an effort to decode a series of messages that had been found during the raids on Carroll-Held’s house the previous year. While in custody, Görtz continued to insist his name was Heinz Kruse, an alias he had concocted to keep his true identity secret. Despite his protestations, G2 didn’t believe his story added up.
News of Görtz’s arrest filtered back to his handlers in Germany, who were infuriated at his arrest and the fact that he was ‘interfering’ with the Irish government. They concluded that Görtz must have lost all logic and reason to have strayed so far from his mission parameters. Indeed, Görtz’s frayed mental state provided Hempel with the perfect cover. In a meeting with Joseph Walshe from the Department of External Affairs he stuck rigidly to prepared scripts, insisting that Görtz was acting of his own volition in Ireland, due in a large part to personal anxiety and a disturbed mental state. When Edmund Veesenmayer heard of Görtz’s arrest, it was decided with the Abwehr and the Foreign Ministry to concoct a cover story that Görtz was an agent sent to England on a mission who had been delayed in Ireland. In reality the Foreign Ministry was glad that Görtz was behind bars as it relieved them of the problem of wondering what he was up to and worrying, given his erratic state of mind, that he might do something irrational.
While Bryan had successfully dealt with Görtz and Schütz, the American diplomatic presence in Ireland was starting to pose its own issues for G2. While the USA had an official diplomatic presence in Ireland, Bryan became concerned by the issue of Allied spies operating in the country. It was widely feared that the American security services were sending spies into Ireland under the cover of their diplomatic mission to Dublin. There were also reports filtering through of the presence of US engineers in Northern Ireland, which soon began to concern Bryan and G2. It was suspected that these engineers had a military background, but the Irish authorities were being largely kept in the dark by both the British and Northern Ireland governments and by the American authorities. While the USA remained out of the war, it was becoming increasingly likely that tensions in the east might force it to enter, especially in light of increased Japanese aggression in the Pacific. Sure enough, these fears would be realised.
On 17 September 1940, Hirohito’s Japan entered the war, signing the Tripartite Pact with Germany and Italy to further bolster the Axis threat. The US policy of isolation was soon to be met with a devasting attack in the east, and Ireland and G2 would almost immediately come under renewed pressure from many quarters. With the war going firmly in Hitler’s favour, it seemed that all hope was lost. Bryan and his colleagues in G2 were Ireland’s last line of defence and the future and security of the nation rested on their shoulders. Ireland was now at its most vulnerable, insecure and unable to distinguish friend from foe.