The hope and symbolism of a departing British military at the end of January was overshadowed and forgotten in the months that followed. Just like the Irish and the British had done during the lull of the Anglo-Irish truce, the two opposing Irish factions—pro-Treaty and anti-Treaty—began frantically shoring up their walls and marshalling support while trying to advance their positions to the public at large. The Irish Republican Army was split down the middle, half joining Michael Collins and the Free State supporters, half refusing to compromise and assembling under the banner of republicans, meaning those who wouldn’t settle for anything less than a republic.
De Valera had been actively campaigning for anti-Treaty support, pulling in huge crowds filled with citizens sorely disappointed with the Free State solution. So many had suffered terribly at the hands of the British and were unwilling to compromise with an unreliable adversary. The British were notorious in Ireland for breaking the Treaty of Limerick of 1691, and many who supported de Valera believed the British would break the Irish Free State (Agreement) Act as well.
Michael Collins began a campaign of his own, traveling from county to county, drawing thousands anxious to stave off conflict and more war. Thomas started traveling long distances to see him, to succor him, and to gauge the pulse of the public at large. In Leitrim and Sligo, like in every county in Ireland, sides were being taken and lines were being drawn. The tension in the streets once due to the Auxies and the Tans was redirected; hostility between neighbors and distrust between friends was the new strife. Eoin’s nightmares increased; Brigid’s nerves were stretched thin, divided by her loyalty to Thomas and her love for her sons. When Thomas traveled with Michael, I remained at Garvagh Glebe, afraid to leave them behind.
As February rolled into March and March into April, the crack in Ireland’s leadership became a chasm in the country from which chaos climbed. Hell nipped at her heels. Raids on banks and outposts were the order of the day as the guns and money needed to overthrow the new government became paramount. The newspapers were ransacked or overrun, and the propaganda machine began in earnest. Anti-Treaty brigades of the IRA—brigades that behaved more like conquering warlords—began invading entire towns. In Limerick, where command of the city meant control of the River Shannon bridges and dominance over the west and the south, both pro- and anti-Treaty forces were burrowed in. The anti-Treaty IRA commandeered barracks newly evacuated by British troops, set up their headquarters in hotels, and occupied government buildings. It would take force to dislodge them, and no one wanted to use force.
On April 13, Michael spoke to a thousand people in Sligo at a pro-Treaty rally only to be rushed off the stage as fighting broke out in the crowd and shots rang out from a window overlooking the square. He was shoved into the back of an armored car, Thomas on his heels, and whisked away to Garvagh Glebe while order was restored. He spent the night in Dromahair, two dozen Free State soldiers surrounding the house to protect him while he planned his next move. We sat at the dining room table, the remnants of dinner all around us. Brigid was in her room, and Eoin was playing marbles in the adjoining parlor with Fergus, who showed him no mercy but a good deal of patience.
“A British ship off the coast of Cork was seized by anti-Treaty forces. The ship was filled with arms. Thousands of guns are now in the hands of the men who want to destabilize the Free State. What in the hell was a ship full of arms doing off the coast of Cork? The British are behind this,” Michael said, rising to his feet to circle the table, his belly full, his nerves taut.
“The British?” Thomas asked, surprised. “Why?”
Thomas stopped in front of the window, peering out into the darkness, only to have Fergus call out, demanding he move.
“If I can’t pull this off, Thomas, if Ireland can’t pull this off, the British will say they have no choice but to return to restore order. The agreement will be void. And Ireland will slide right back into British hands. So they quietly pull our strings