Come Here To Me!

In terms of the international stage, Ireland was still finding her feet politically either side of World War 2. Successive Fianna Fáil governments under the stewardship of War of Independence and Civil War veteran Éamon de Valera sought to define a New Ireland, marked by the independence he had fought for.

To assert this independence, he led the country through a period of economic isolationism, and to define her sovereignty denying steadfast at times to engage in acts of support for her neighbours- refusing to deal with the requests of the Allies right down to refusing to repatriate German spies and prisoners of war in her custody. This denial of co-operation should not be seen as a singularly pro-Axis act, rather the naivety of a new nation under a conservative and stubborn leader, but also as Michael Kennedy suggests in his document “A Deed Agreeable to God,” an Ireland sceptical of the British justice which she so well remembered.

The refusal to ‘play ball’ with Allied nations as well as spurious rumours in the press regarding warm welcomes being meted out to German U-Boats in Irish ports and an island swarming with German spies formenting anti- British sentiment did little to dispute the widely held notion that the nation was pro-Axis. The flagrant anti-Semitism and vocal support given to Hitler by Charles Bewley (the Irish minister in Berlin until 1939,) did nothing to help her image. Nor did the nail in the coffin, that being De Valera’s visit, accompanied by the Secretary of External Affairs, Joseph Walshe to Dr. Hempel, the German Minister to Ireland to express his condolences on the suicide of Hitler. Walshe had pleaded with De Valera not to make the visit, and the sensationalist coverage in the press all over the world in the days following proved him correct, along with more bogus allegations amongst others, that the Nazi flag had been flown at half-mast outside various Irish ministries.

In truth, Ireland’s ‘friendly neutrality’ towards the war effort meant freedom for thousands of Irishmen enlist for the war effort, large scale press censorship, shared intelligence between Ireland’s G2 and the British MI5, suppression of the IRA during the war years and although there’s a massive counter argument to be made, there is many a suggestion that Ireland neutral was far more beneficial than Ireland belligerent. And of course the War did come to Ireland, with Nazi bombs raining upon the North Strand resulting in the deaths of 34 Dubliners.

Similarly, the plentiful accusations that Ireland was a bespoke but well-worn ratline for Nazi war criminals whilst ringing true on occasion was, in truth light on merit. Even the Simon Wisenthal Institute argued that no ‘big fish’ had made it to Ireland. The allegations that those who did pass through and the handful that settled here had the backing of the Irish State is also arguable, given the recent Dept. of Justice and Dept. of External Affairs papers examined by Kennedy in his aforementioned work.

Despite all this, it is undeniable that there were some figures that made it to Ireland- from Breton and Flemish exiles, to a mad Scottish separatist with the amazing name of Ronald MacDonald Douglas. Two of the most high profile names to make it though were Hitler’s one time bodyguard, Otto Scorzeny and the inspiration for this piece, Andrija Artuković.

Adolf Hitler, Hermann Goering, Mladen Lorkovic and Andrija Artuković looking over Ante Pavelić’s shoulder

Artuković, in a nutshell was known as the ‘Yugoslav Himmler’ and ‘the Butcher of the Balkans’. As Minister for the Interior of the Nazi puppet ‘Independent State of Croatia’ he oversaw the construction of a string of Ustaše death camps and is claimed by sources to be responsible for the deaths of anywhere between a quarter and three quarters of a million Jews, Roma, Serbs and anti- Ustaše Croats.

It was Hubert Butler’s ‘the Artukovitch File’ that introduced me to the fascist Ustaše Artuković and the fact that not only did he spend a year in Ireland but lived not a kilometre away from my home and attended church daily within sight of my front door. For many years, Butler was the ‘go-to’ on Artuković, but without denying Butler’s greatness as a writer, his document is not without flaws given that at the time of writing, the Dept. of Justice and Foreign Affairs files in the National Archives were still classified forcing him to somewhat fill in the gaps. It was of its time.

Butler always made the assumption that the Irish state, in granting asylum to Artuković (albeit under an alias) knew what they were doing to an extent and posed the question “Why do we know so little of his sojourn among us… did we cherish him because he presented himself to us as a Christian refugee from godless Communism?” The reality of his arrival here is less conspiratorial.

What Butler succeeded quite well in was laying the foundation for future investigators- he describes succinctly the escape of Artuković to Switzerland, and the arrival and the life of Andrija Artuković (under the alias Alois Anich) in Dublin. Artuković arrived in here with his wife Maria and their children Zorica and Vishnya on Tuesday, July 15^th 1947. He had not long previous escaped to Austria from Croatia when the puppet state collapsed and there he met Krunoslav Stjepan Draganović.

Draganović  was a Roman Catholic priest known for his work spiriting Ustaše war criminals out of Europe. He assisted Artuković in gaining Swiss papers under the name Alois Anich and in March 1947 Irish minister to Berne Frank Cremins received Visa applications from Reverend Father Anton Louis Ivandić and his Uncle, Professor Alois Anich who were hoping to engage in ‘philological and historical studies’ in Ireland.

Their applications came through the Delegate General of the Franciscans of Switzerland who, as Kennedy notes explained that Anich was ‘naturally desirous of saving his family from Yugoslav persecution.’ Their applications made it clear they would not be a burden on the Irish state- Ivandić would be looked after by the Franciscans of Merchants’ Quay, whilst Anich ‘did not lack financial means.’

With regards the movement of the Artuković’s through Europe and onwards to the US, the Swiss authorities and Franciscans would have a lot more questions to answer for me than the Irish Government. Whilst it is arguable that the Swiss knew exactly who they were dealing with, it seems according to recently declassified records from the Department of Justice and the Department of External affairs (who Cremins had forwarded documentation on to) were ignorant of Artuković’s past. Indeed the Visa application bounced back and forth between the Departments where there was some discussion on their status as political refugees before the file landed on the desk of a relatively low ranking civil servant who stamped it with the seal of approval- the application wasn’t even referred to G2, An Garda Síochána’s Intelligence Branch.

The Artuković home in Dublin, 6 Zion Road. From Google Maps.

In Dublin the Artuković family settled in Rathgar on Dublin’s leafy south side. Thanks to Butler’s investigating we know their first address was at 7 Tower Avenue (where the two ‘Anich’ girls registered to attend the Sacred Heart Convent girl’s school from) and later at 6 Zion Road not far away. In Dublin the girls too adapted new identities and Zorica and Vishnya became Katherina and Aurea. Little is known of their time in Dublin, though friends the family made spoke of Andrija’s ‘strong, seamed face’, talked of his kindness and how he ‘lived for his family’, his strong faith in God and the fact he was a daily Communicant. There was shock and disbelief when photographs were presented of him in his Ustaše uniform.

Incidentally 6 Zion Road, where the family spent the majority of their time in Ireland, was once home to Isaac Murray Craig, Captain in the Royal Engineers in World War I, veteran of the Balkan campaign who found death in Palestine in August 1918 creating an interesting historical parallel.

The family would welcome a third child when in Dublin with Radoslav born in June 1948 in Prague House Nursing Home, Terenure but the following month, the Anich’s (as their papers read now) would make their way  to California with ‘Certificates of Identity’ from Ireland, having applied for and received non-immigrant Visas to the US under their false identities with the auspices they were going there on a six month holiday.

When eventually extradited to Yugoslavia from the US in November 1986 and tried for his crimes, Artuković was sentenced to death but died of natural causes before justice could be carried out.

It’s worth noting here that Ireland was certainly not without sympathy for what Butler described as “Christian refugee[s] from godless Communism.” In May 1949, more than 100, 000 people had turned out on Dublin’s streets in protest at the imprisonment of Archbishop Stepinac. To put this into context, the numbers considerably dwarfed those who gathered in Dublin to celebrate the declaration of the Republic a month before.

The ‘Catholic ruler of Dublin’ Archbishop John Charles MacQuaid often rallied to the aid of Stepinac from the pulpit, vilifying Butler’s writing’s whilst seemingly ignoring Stepinac’s support for Pavelić’s Ustaše. In 1952 MacQuaid led protests against a scheduled friendly between Ireland and Yugoslavia in Dublin’s Dalymount Park. Such was the anti-communist sentiment in Ireland and power of the man at the time that through his intercession, the game was called off.

As it would happen, MacQuaid would be further angered when the game was re-scheduled in 1955. A furious MacQuaid called for a boycott of the game, and head of the Catholic Boy Scouts J. B Whelehan accused the FAI of entertaining ‘the tools of Tito in the capital city of Catholic Ireland.’ The boycott was ignored and 22,000 people would pack out Dalymount Park to watch as Yugoslavia bagged four goals to Ireland’s one. The boycott would garner open opposition, with artists and poets, notably Patrick Kavanagh in attendance at the game.

This article is part of ongoing research into Ireland’s and specifically Dublin’s relationship with Axis agents during and post World War 2 and was delivered in Rijeka at the recent Atlantic to Adriatic conference.