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The Celtic Tiger - A Kaiserreich Ireland AAR Chapter 5: The Red Hand and the White Dove

A good general never let his successes linger too long. The key to winning a war was never stopping until the final objective was secured, which meant that no soldier could afford to celebrate his success.

2 October 1939 - Home of Michael Collins, County Cork, Ireland

The Irish had successfully repulsed multiple combined invasions from two great powers, and had successfully maintained the territorial integrity of their island. Britain had shifted their attention to the Low Countries and France had placed most of their forces along the German border or along the south of France in Marseilles. It had been days since a single Union plane or ship had come anywhere close to Irish territory. The unity that such a feat had engendered had been nothing short of exceptional. Some foreign workers had evacuated, but plenty had stayed behind to continue to help provide much needed manpower for Ireland in the face of invasion. Wealthy Irishmen bought war bonds by the armful, older men volunteered to help man civil defense spotting towers to supplement the radar stations, and workers had seamlessly integrated a full three-shift rotation to speed production along. Yet this unity had not been total, and one faction began to cause more problems.

It had been no secret that the Orangeists in Ulster had been agitating for a return to the British in Canada. To hear the rhetoric, Ulsterites needed to do everything they could to allow the exiled Windsors to return to their throne. Ireland was an ideal staging ground for the Entente, an unsinkable aircraft carrier capable of sending the entirety of the Entente’s aerial forces against the Union and the Communards. G2 had done wonders in infiltrating the Union, and the Irish Republican Army was one of the most experienced forces in the world, certainly when it came to fighting Mosley. All of that value, they argued, must have been put to use in the service King Edward. Once the United Kingdom had been restored, Ulster could be returned to the Crown, and all would be well, if you asked the Orangeists. The Unionists were seeing attendance at their rallies steadily grow and grow, before long the entirety of the Six Counties would be UUP.

The notion of joining both the Entente and the Reichspakt had been floated in the Dail. It made practical sense to join one of them, and gain the support of large and powerful armies and economies at the Irish back. Collins had exhausted plenty of political capital to shoot down those proposals, reading the refusals of the Kaiserreich and the exiled British government when the Mosley first declared war. Collins didn’t like it, it gave too much red meat to the na hAiséirghe crowd and could embolden their efforts against his immigration reforms, but it gained him a reprieve from those demanding that Ireland join one of the two European factions. Joining one would invite the Union to continue bombing and invading to prevent exactly the scenario that the Ulsterites hoped to come to pass.

With the war on, it was the perfect time to move. If it wasn’t such a threat, Collins would appreciate the irony, since the Weltkrieg was what had enabled Irish independence in the first place. He now sat in the same position as the British Empire did twenty years ago. The moment had made his mouth taste like metal, almost an involuntary moment of revulsion. The promises of 1921 seemed to be coming true at the worst possible time. The confirmation of Ulster would have to take place, one way or the other.

Now that the bombings were over, and life was attempting to return to normal, agitation against the Irish government had returned. James Craig had viciously denounced the Collins government, declaring that Collins had hoped to hobble Belfast, and that the Northern Irish would be kept out of the riches of Collins’s economic policies. The Saorstat Brewery, the Open for Business Initiative, the agricultural reforms in Connacht, the zinc mines in the center of the country, it was economic prosperity for Catholics only, Craig had made a grand show to a roaring crowd of Unionists and Ulster Volunteers. Collins’s ultimate goal, so Craig spelled out, was the economic subservience of the Northern Irish, to let them wither until they surrender who they are.

“Everything I’ve done for Belfast and it’s still not enough. The steelworks, the Short Brothers, none of it will ever be enough for James Craig.” Collins grumbled to an empty room.

---

16 November 1939 - Belfast, Ireland

The latest news wasn’t good. The Unionists, citing unequal treatment by Catholic employers, had planned to stage a large-scale sympathetic strike, which threatened everything from small restaurants all the way to Harland and Wolff. The Ulster Shipwright and Marine Workers Association, by far the largest labor union in Belfast and de facto head of any large-scale labor activity, had misgivings about striking in the middle of a war, and had strongly pushed a compromise plan. Smaller businesses unrelated to the war effort like restaurants and other service industries would institute a general strike, while shipyards, airfields, and other critical war industries would stress work-to-rule behavior and malicious compliance. As a token of good faith in their statement of grievances, the workers promised that they would maintain all repair facilities for the An tSeirbhís Chabhlaigh and the An tAerchór at full functionality; they would do nothing that would critically endanger Ireland’s defense in the wake of Union aggression. Despite this, the plan ultimately was for naught. A fight broke out between the Unionists and a large group of unknown men shouting that they were betraying the war effort. No one had been seriously injured, merely cuts, broken bones, and a bunch of filled beds at Belfast Medical.

Rumors had abounded at what exactly happened and who was involved. Collins received his share of the blame, plenty believed that he had ordered the strikebreaking action to intimidate the Ulster Volunteers under the veneer of plausible deniability. Even more outlandish conspiracy theorists suggested that Collins had organized the labor action itself, to give his strikebreakers the reason they needed to kick a couple of teeth in without actually causing significant damage to the war effort and delegitimize the Ulster Volunteers and the labor unions in one fell swoop to prevent reaching out to the Dominion or the Union. The Catholics loudly protested that it must have been the Ulster Unionists who struck the first blow, hypocritically demanding the right to protest but denying it to the Irish nationalists in a rehash of the old Irish Penal Law system. Most however, thought it was just strikebreaking, squads hired by business owners to break up the labor action. Either way, it wasn’t good for the Collins government.

This had come not long after the bank of Ireland had been robbed in Belfast, gaining plenty of money to continue to fund dissident activity within the Six Counties. The Gardai had been unable to find where the money had gone, it had almost certainly been laundered through businesses in the North. No one could prove that it was the Unionists who had robbed it, but everyone was convinced that it was the case. With the Irish budgets already stretched thin, the loss of the cash reserves in Belfast had stung deeply. Angry Irish citizens had demanded that the government guarantee their account holdings and punish those responsible. Collins sympathized, but inflation was a dangerous beast to wrestle with already, he couldn’t imagine the headache he would have to deal with if he started securing private holdings during the war.

No matter the truth of everything that had happened in Ulster, it was bad for Collins. This sort of thing could only hurt the war effort. The last thing he needed was James Craig hoping to secure himself by latching on to the Union, or declaring war on Ireland and inviting in the British crown. “Tighten restrictions, offer the usual sympathies, promise an investigation. Let’s make nice before this gets any worse.” Collins ordered, hoping to stave off catastrophe.

---

20 December 1939 - County Antrim, Ireland

It was starting to look as if it would be an armed conflict after all.

Derry had seen the first problems. A prominent Unionist activist had been stabbed in the night and left to bleed in a gutter, dying in the pre-dawn hours of a cold December morning and undiscovered until a morning street-cleaning crew found him during their shift. The Gardai had no leads, which had only mobilized the Unionists further. There had been no leads because there had been no investigation. The Gardai fully supported the murder of prominent Unionists; it allowed them to subjugate the population without fear of uprising or uproar. No doubt, had a Irish Republican loyalist been murdered, the perpetrator would have been found, arrested, and sentenced to death under wartime emergency measures.

Orangeists had been seeing a steady increase in support from Protestants in the North. Intelligence reports from police units had noted steady increases in recruiting and donations. Hardliners were urging the police to crack down on the movement, but absent evidence of a specific crime, Northern Irish advocacy groups had been a right guaranteed in the 1925 Constitution. The Gardai had to contend themselves with attempting to trace the money from the Bank of Ireland robbery and seeing if they could identify the specific groups that were causing trouble. If the perpetrators could be discovered, the Ulster Volunteers would have to disavow them and perhaps cause distress within their own movement.

The Irish nationalists despised Collins’s plans. It was war and the Ulster Volunteers were committing treason against the state. If the Ulster unions took the strikebreaking as a means to invite Mosley in, he’d have a secure beachhead, or James Craig might reach out to King Edward and slowly invite a peacekeeping force in. Neither idea seemed particularly feasible to Collins, but the fear of such possibilities was creating a lot of doomsaying, and that was enough. His success against Mosley had taught a valuable lesson: impression could mean far more than reality.

A concert hall in County Antrim saw the next bloody episode. Masked men shouting pro-Ulster slogans opened fire, killing members of a Dublin band and concert-goers alike who had been playing a Christmas benefit. No one from that crime was caught, as sympathetic Ulsterites had been able to smuggle the men underground. Investigators hadn’t yet been able to discover who the gunmen actually were. The pictures reminded Collins uncomfortably of what he saw in Galway and Sligo, how long would be before Irish would be doing the same to Irish? Rounding up and executing them in a field like they were sheep or cattle, it sickened Collins to his core. Craig had remained silent on the matter, but the Irish Catholics in the North were incredibly frightened. Even the foreigners were frightened of being caught in the crossfire, and that led Collins to one inescapable conclusion: he was losing control.

“Institute a stronger curfew, devote more money to investigations. Also let’s see if we can’t do something to undercut the Volunteer’s support among the Northerners, make them focus their efforts on fighting the Union. Take out loans if you have to; this needs to end now.”

---

17 January 1940 - Belfast Ireland

It was a grim day, and the dark clouds had seemed to be a herald for bad omens.

After the concert hall massacre, the Ulster Unionist Party had quieted down, but only for a short time. No progress had been made, and rumors had circulated that the UUP weren’t going to send any sacrificial lamb even if they disagreed with the action. The Unionists had sought to organize a large-scale march in Belfast. Plenty within Collins’s government urged him to quash it entirely under emergency war powers, a large assembly could be considered too great a risk from aerial bombardment. Yet with the threat of British bombardment being reduced, Collins had opted not to give the Ulsterites more reason to call him an unconstitutional tyrant.

When the news of it reached the Catholic minority in Belfast, they predictably demanded an extra defensive precaution. The sporadic outbreaks of violence meant that the Catholics feared that the march would become a riot, and the Ulster Unionists, while not proven to be connected to the murders in Antrim, were almost certainly guilty of abetting it. The Gardai hadn’t been able to stop the violence, and with the march they would be woefully outnumbered and unable to protect anyone if anything got out of hand. Collins had ordered the 3rd Limerick Rifles to strategic points, with Eoin O’Duffy at the command center. The 3rd Limerick was a mix of O’Duffy’s old guard, men that had served him since 1917 which now comfortably resided in senior leadership and NCO positions, and young recruits that had signed on near the beginning of the Internationale War, out of training and dispersed to different combat units so that they might benefit from the veterans that had been fighting in the war from the outset and absorbed the new techniques and methods of waging war.

The latter category was populated by Dean MacCabe, a fresh recruit among many. He was greener than his uniform, and had been nervous about fighting the war. Rather than wait to be drafted, Dean had signed up for the infantry to serve his homeland. In truth, he’d rather have been in a coastal fort on Clew Bay, but his country needed him here, making sure that nothing happened during the protest march. Fortunately so far, the worst that seemed to happen was a bit of name-calling. Dean himself would have been happy to have given as good as he got, but he needed to keep his cool. Level heads were needed, and he needed to prove himself worthy of the uniform.

The rain had already hampered visibility greatly, and with everyone wearing long coats it was almost maddening to tell who, if anyone, was concealing a weapon under their raincoat. With so many people on the street, it was next-to-impossible to pick out faces of known Ulster Volunteers or militant UUP’ers in the crowd. Sometimes people spoke to each other and pointed at the 3rd Limerick. Were they pointing them out in signal for an attack, or just commenting on the fact that they were there? A woman walking by with a baby carriage stopped to play with the infant inside. Was that genuine, or was it a signal pointing out the best angle of attack? Dean started to sweat out of fear, mixing with the rainwater that was snaking its way inside his own raincoat. Everything could be a signal for a waiting attack, everyone could be an enemy. He had orders to fire if fired upon, but felt so exposed that he wouldn’t get a chance to fire second.

Periodic glances to his pocketwatch gave him grounding but seconds ticked on agonizingly slowly as he kept watch. His fellows were just as worried as he was, he could see in their faces. The old NCO’s seemed to be surer, but that could just be the experience in their eyes. This was not so much war as it was psychological torture, young men signing up to placed in the rain to fear when the next sudden outbreak of death could come, and it could come from anywhere. It had only been six minutes since he last looked at his watch.

Bottles and rocks started to be thrown at the 3rd Limerick’s position now, but was it testing their readiness, or merely rowdy Unionists too deep in their cups? And how quickly could the latter turn into a full-blown attack. All it took was one man to draw, and Dean MacCabe could be dead on the ground. Every time he saw something suspicious, he debated looking to his comrades for guidance, but if he had, would that mean that he would leave himself exposed, and he, or one of his brothers in the unit, could be killed? Even a moment’s lapse of concentration could be lethal, and so Dean MacCabe needed to maintain focus. Finally, the drunks had either run out of bottles or found something else interesting to do, the bottles gradually tapered off from two in the air, to one, to none. MacCabe looked at his watch. Nine minutes.

“Eyes front, we’ve got something,” came the gruff voice of the sergeant, and Dean snapped out of his reverie. There was movement in the crowd, a group of toughs approaching square to the Limerick Rifles position. Dean’s nerves were fraying, and Dean did not plead for what was before him to be something genuine or a false alarm. All he wanted was this wretched duty to be over, to go back to the barracks, drink himself into a stupor, and forget that this day had ever happened. The toughs began to chant, and MacCabe stole a second to look at his watch.

Two minutes.

---

18 January 1940 - Áras an Uachtaráin, Dublin, Ireland

Bloody Wednesday. That’s what the papers were calling what had happened at Belfast. Only a handful dead, more wounded, but it didn’t matter if no one was hurt: the Irish Republican Army had fired on Ulstermen. Weapons were found on the bodies, but eyewitnesses swore they saw mutually contradicting versions of events as they unfolded.

Collins made a public speech expressing sorrow for the loss of life, and vowed to discover what had happened. Only one man, above all else, could be trusted to treat the matter with the integrity that such a matter required. Richard Mulcahy, Ceann Foirne na bhFórsaí Cosanta, temporarily ceded his command position as Marshal of the Defense of Ireland to Liam Lynch, to take up a commission to investigate the matter. James Craig had wanted nothing to do with it and refused to offer any official support. Luckily for Collins, the Lord Mayor of Belfast had offered his full support for the commission provided Belfast police could participate, almost certainly committing political suicide in the process. One mayor seemed to stand between the country and civil war, and that mayor was a damn welcome sight to Collins eyes. The UUP depended on local support in Belfast, a mayor supporting the Commission would mean that until he was inevitably ousted in a no-confidence vote, Collins could act to head off any potential war.

It wouldn’t be long coming if he didn’t act quickly. G2 had intercepted comminiques to the Dominion of Canada that were almost certainly conducted on Craig’s behalf. Nothing sinister on its own, mere expressions of concern for Irish Unionists in the wake of the events of Bloody Wednesday. More concerning were the trade unions reaching out to the Union across the Irish Sea. Only the fringe socialists campaigned for syndicalism after Mosley’s invasion, but that crowd started to gain more support among the trade unions after the strikebreaking action, and it would only get worse if the common man in the North figured that Mosley was the lesser evil.

“Go on, and come back with what you can. Spend whatever money you need, do whatever you can to make peace. We aren’t going to survive any more invasions if we’re fighting in the Six Counties.”

---

1 Feburary, 1940 - Special Session of the Dail, Dublin, Ireland

The Mulcahy Commission had returned surprising, and utterly damning results.

O’Duffy had asserted in his after-action reports that the Unionists had initiated violence, taking advantage of a minor street altercation to ambush a stationed unit. After receiving fire, O’Duffy had reinforced his men. Once the Ulsterites had started to take fire, they fled into the crowds, which quickly had become chaotic. The entire mess had taken less than 30 seconds, but they were 30 seconds of absolute madness.

Mulcahy’s findings concluded the opposite. He had stated that it had appeared that one of O’Duffy’s men fired the first shots, the Ulsterites had responded, and had placed weapons among the dead to minimize the risk that any could have been identified as an unarmed civilian. No one in the IRA detachment that had been fired upon would come forward to support Mulcahy’s findings, and most credible witnesses were unable to determine whether one or the other was true; most were paying attention to the parade and saw the firefight only after the first shots were fired.

The implications for the Irish Republican Army was huge. If O’Duffy was guilty, it would mean that a high-ranking member of the IRA had conspired to attack Protestant Irishmen. Before now, the government had not been involved in violence against citizens in the North in ten years, since the Northern Campaign. Now, it could have confirmed that there would be no regularization of their status, that they would always be second-class citizens in the Republic, and their only choices were rebellion or slow destruction.

“We respect the Commission and its findings. The Republic of Ireland owes a debt of gratitude to Richard Mulcahy, the Right Honorable Lord Mayor of Belfast Crawford McCullagh, and the investigators who have worked many hours to discover the truth.” Collins announced on the steps of the Dail. “There is nothing that can bring back those poor men and women who died that fateful day. All we can do is labor on in their stead. The Republic of Ireland will compensate the families of those lost, hold trials of the perpetrators, and hold them in our prayers. We cannot undo this, but we can endeavor to build something from this.”

The Bloody Wednesday trials, as they came to be known, were largely simple affairs. Testimony was mercifully brief; there was no need to be lurid or voyeuristic in The young men in the division, who had followed the orders of their superiors, were convicted of manslaughter. The officers and NCO’s on scene, who were of higher rank and ordered the shooting, had higher sentences. That only left Eoin O’Duffy himself, who adamantly maintained his innocence and dismissed the evidence against him arranging any sort of conspiracy as spurious. The prosecution had attempted to cite him for command responsibility, but the Hague Conventions had been rather vague on the notion, and the Peace With Honor had looked to avoid punishing soldiers for their actions near the end of the Weltkrieg. No one could argue that opening fire on civilians and placing weapons on them to cover up the crime wasn’t beyond the scope of normal command duties. If there wasn’t ironclad proof, the IRA would see it as Collins betraying his own for the sake of making nice with Ulster, the corruption of Collins the soldier to Collins the politician who threw his soldiers under the bus.

“They were your soldiers too, Eoin! You trained them! You’re the one betraying them. The Ulsterites are Irish too.”

Ultimately, O’Duffy was sentenced to life imprisonment, after being cashiered from the Irish Republican Army. Collins didn’t see it as a victory. If he had sent Mulcahy instead of O’Duffy, how many more lives would have been saved? What could he do, to build a united Ireland in the wake of such bloodshed.

“Call Mr. McCullagh. This is my last shot to avoid losing Ireland.”

---

14 September 1940 - Belfast, Ireland

“With the establishment of the Parliament of Ulster and the transformation of the Republic into the Federal Republic of Ireland, all Irish people can truly be thought of as being weavers of the grand Irish tapestry. We thank the government of Michael Collins for establishing this institution to ensure that the Northern Irish and Protestant peoples of this great country can show and share their ways of life, and the distinct traditions that have become part of our life can become part of Ireland’s. The Cultural Unity Commission represents a tangible step on the path to the vision of our great flag. One nation, Catholic and Protestant, with the eternal flag of peace between them.” -Gerald McCullagh, First Minister of the Ulster Parliament

It was a pretty speech, but McCullagh had quieted down the UUP protests. There had almost been a complete schism between McCullagh and Craig, and Craig’s advanced age had not helped him maintain control of the party. A younger generation had been able to portray McCullagh as out of touch, wanting to reunite with a land that had fled to Canada to escape the syndicalists. Worse, they hadn’t come to support Ireland when she called for support, but Michael Collins had fought, and fought well.

Collins had established the Ulster-Scots as its own language along with English and Irish Gaelic. It had been a nightmare to organize during wartime, at one point he had joked that he spent more time trying to figure out how to translate official government manuals than he had in pursuing the fight against the Union of Britain in the past month. The gesture had surprised the moderates in the UUP, and got them to the negotiating table when the timetable for phasing in the new language was given to them. Economic gestures hadn’t worked, but Collins saw more success with political measures meant to promote Ulsterites in Ireland, first with the establishment of their own language and then with the establishment of the Cultural Unity Commission. The resolution of their status, the question that had been on the table since 1925, was being sorted. Ireland would not simply tolerate her Protestant citizens, but celebrate them. This had enraged the Irish Catholic League and other populist Catholic movements, but Collins hadn’t been worried; they had been fringe groups to begin with and banned from the Irish Republican Army.

The last step had been to federalize Ireland into four regional areas with four Parliaments, Connacht, Leinster, Munster, and Ulster. Dublin would still be the centralized seat of the national government, responsible for matters of national interest such as the military, foreign policy, and inter-province commerce, but more domestic matters would be ceded to the local Parliaments. The full resumption of federal duties would be brought into effect when the war was over, but as a gesture of support, Collins had reshuffled the War Cabinet to include ministers from each of the four provinces. Oddly, this development had been celebrated with greater fanfare within Connacht and Munster than in Ulster itself, the two provinces had seen themselves receive less in terms of investment than Dublin or Belfast, and they welcomed the added jobs and local autonomy. The success of the IEAA and the war industries had made the country bloom, and if a little autonomy was lost for maximum unity, so much the better. For the first time since this war had begun, Collins began to feel optimism.

The same couldn’t be said for the world situation. The Russian Vozhd had begun to push deep into White Ruthenia and the Kingdom of the Ukraine. Japan and Germany had turned the Southeastern Asian peninsula into a massive stretch of small battles and the Pacific into a warzone, and Japan had offered its support to the Princely Federation to attack the British Dominion of India, putting the Co-Prosperity Sphere at war with the Entente. The Zhii Clique and the Fengtian government had also gone to war in support of their respective Great Power patrons to turn northern China into a proxy war between Germany and Japan, and Cheng Jiongming had taken the opportunity to take over Hunan and Siuchan mostly peacefully, espousing Chinese democratic federalism. The war in China had prevented Japanese land reinforcements, forcing them to rely heavily on their Siamese allies. Savinkov, sensing weakness, had declared war to seize Transamur, and had invaded Japanese Siberia to take back the tiny province. Entente naval invasions hadn’t made much progress in mainland France, and the Low Countries were struggling with a British seaborne invasion and French attacks along the border.

“This is the final struggle.” Collins addressed the nation in a radio speech. “Ireland cannot know peace until the menace that has been the Union of Britain is defeated. We have maintained our borders, but it is not enough to simply seek détente with those who sought to enslave us. The Union of Britain is a threat to the entire world, and there will not be peace until we have taken it in our hands and shown it to the world. The Irish Republican Army will go across the sea, and we will rid ourselves of those who seek to deny us our own country.”

It was a pretty speech, and it brought the country together, but that’s all that it was. Collins needed to find a way to provide a unified front against the Internationale. For all that Deat and Mosley loathed each other, they had coordinated exceptionally well and presented a unified front against the Reichspakt. The Entente and the Reichspakt had offered non-aggression pacts between each other, but coordination had gone no further. If Collins wanted to win the war, he would have to solve that problem. If he couldn’t, then he would face annihilation.

An impossible problem? The risk of death? Every problem seemed to have such unimaginable stakes, and each time one was solved another rose in it’s place. But that was necessary. These were the times that they were in.

---

Images

Unionists Hold Massive Rally

Unionists Mobilize

Unionists Planning an Uprising?

Clash at Unionist Worker Strike

Bank of Ireland Robbery

Murder in Derry

Antrim Concert Hall Attacked

Ulster March Begins

The Mulcahy Commission

Eoin O’Duffy’s Trial

Ulster at Peace

The New Ireland

The Final Struggle

Alright everyone, this is the latest chapter. I’m not in love with this one as much as I am with some of the others, but I was happy to be able to present some of the deployed grunt experience with Dean MacCabe; there’s a little bit of my friends who went to Iraq in it, and I wanted to relay the intensity and paranoia that they felt, even if it was just for a few paragraphs.

Did what I could to ensure that these antagonists (in terms of a character that provides an obstacle to our protagonist, not a ‘villain’) came across as reasonable; one of my many faults when I write is that I have a tendency to focus more upon protagonists, so I wanted to ensure that the Ulster Unionists came across as mostly reasonable with extreme elements. I think I pulled it off well enough, but let me know what you think of it.

I’m not a fan that peace was so easy to achieve, because I think that cheapens the very real long-term efforts that these sorts of efforts entail. That’s a function of the game mechanics in HOI4, the same thing is present in the base game in Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia. Even the ideas in those foci would take a long time to implement, but it’s an AAR, so I have to reflect the mechanics of the game in the writing and make some vague allusions that it’s going to be a long process. Such as it is, I’m afraid.

The Second Weltkrieg continues on, the next chapter will be much different, as rather than taking place in one year over a series of events, it will take place over a few days at the Halifax Conference, and it will be a dialogue-driven chapter. We will have several bigwigs making their appearance, like Kaiser Wilhelm II and King Albert I (our King George VI), and some callbacks to earlier chapters. Hope you’ll enjoy it.

-SLAL

#kaiserreich #creative #celtic tiger

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