The Vatican Pimpernel

by Brian Fleming

  John Furman was also on the move on this historic day. He walked up to a jeep to shake hands with the driver and congratulate him on the success of the Fifth Army.

  Say, you speak good English for an Italiano, he said. Perhaps because I am English, I replied, smiling. He looked at me amazed. Well, whadda ya know? Say what are you doing here anyway? I thought for a moment. It was an apt question. What was I doing here? Why was I not at home with my wife, playing with the two year old daughter I had never seen? Why were we all here? Why had the world gone mad? I was suddenly tired and in no mood to answer the philosophical questions I was ready to pose to myself. I slapped the driver on the back. Just playing a game I said, a game of hide and seek. But it is all over now. As I turned away, the driver leaned across to his mate. I heard a mutter, say, that guy’s crazy. Playing hide and seek!30

  Denis Johnston, the Irish playwright, was then travelling with the British army as a BBC War Correspondent. Some days later he was in the Irish Legation.

  On the neutral territory of the Irish Legation a small party of un-neutral Hibernians gathered to greet the Minister and his handsome, Rabelaisian wife … What was the first sign you had that we had arrived? I asked of Delia. She tossed her head of black curls, and smiled the smile that must have baffled many an Axis official. They call me your Excellency here. It is the way they have in the Diplomatic, d’ye know. Well, I was out taking a walk in the morning to see what was going on. And there was a lot of lads in uniform lying on the pavement in front of the railway station, taking a rest, d’ye know. And I thought they were Germans, until suddenly one of them sat up and said, ‘Say, sister. Come and park your arse beside me’. So then I knew I was liberated.31

  He also heard some stories of the Monsignor. ‘At the Kiernans’ I was told stories of the fabulous Fr O’Flaherty – long sought by the Germans for his help to Allied prisoners and refugees.’32 Johnston and a colleague of his were also in the congregation when the Pope addressed the crowd in St Peter’s Square. After the Pope’s address, both felt they should celebrate the occasion.

  We clasped hands and sang one of our favourite ballads for the delectation of the Roman populace – the Ould Orange Flute. It may be that this was the first time that the Ould Orange Flute has been sung on the steps of St Peter’s. Its choice was a sincere tribute to the universality of the occasion. It seemed only fitting that we should sing one of our own tribal ballads in his honour, rather than something that was not ourselves.33

  13

  Critics and Admirers

  The changed circumstances left the diplomats and indeed the Vatican authorities in a difficult position. Now the diplomatic representatives of the Axis powers, including Germany, Japan and Slovakia, were seeking the safe sanctuary of the Vatican accommodation. However, the Vatican authorities had no room to accommodate them until the representatives of the Allied powers moved out. The British were very conscious of the function that D’Arcy Osborne had been able to play from within the Vatican, and they were concerned that if von Weizsaecker, the German Ambassador, were to move in, he could perform a similar role for his government. Indeed, British intelligence had recommended to their Government that the German Ambassador should be not allowed inside Vatican City. The British took the view that they were not bound by the terms of the Lateran Pact as it was merely an agreement between Italy and the Holy See. It is surely one of the most ironic features of this entire episode that, by and large, the Germans had respected the terms of the Pact right throughout the War, when they must have been sorely tempted to do otherwise, whereas the British, when their turn came, tended to dismiss it. D’Arcy Osborne was in a very awkward position. He was unhappy with the view taken by his Government, but at the same time had a responsibility to represent it in negotiations with the Vatican authorities. He was conscious of the fact that the Italians and the Germans had treated the Vatican in a very proper manner by accommodating diplomats, such as himself and Tittmann, and he felt his own country should behave similarly. Kiernan was doing his best to assist his colleagues, the German and Japanese Ambassadors, who were now under pressure. Denis Johnston observes:

  Ireland was sticking to its traditional policy of being on the side of the hunted rather than the hunter – whoever that might be … I must confess to finding a certain pride in Kiernan’s attitude, and I did my best to help him in his undertaking.1

  Eventually the Americans broke ranks and ordered Tittmann to move out of the Vatican leaving the British with no option but to follow suit. As they left, von Weizsaecker and Herada, the Japanese Ambassador, moved in. The German Ambassador was lucky that he made that move. On 20 July 1944, an assassination attempt on Hitler failed. It was suspected by the authorities in Berlin that von Weizsaecker was one of the conspirators. The fact that he was within the Vatican, and out of reach, probably saved his life. Whether he was opposed to Hitler or not, Kiernan certainly gave credit to his German counterpart for his work:

  All through the period of the German occupation of Rome, von Weizsaecker was a moderating influence on the military and police authorities … It was largely due to von Weizsaecker and a triumph of diplomacy over the horrors of war, that the German troops and the SS respected the sovereign rights and the integrity of the Vatican City state, including the buildings outside the Vatican which, being Vatican property, enjoyed extra-territorial rights.2

  D’Arcy Osborne was now the senior diplomatic representative of the Allied countries in Rome. So the British Legation became the centre of activity in contrast to its previous existence as something of a backwater. Many of the requests coming to the Legation were from the Allied military authorities who were now in charge of Rome. D’Arcy Osborne appointed Derry as Liaison Officer, filling the role of temporary Military Attaché to the British Legation. Derry also had the role of dealing with the repatriation of those escapees whom the organisation had been supporting. A repatriation unit was established, headed by Derry, assisted by Simpson, Furman, Captain Burns and the Greek, Meletiou. They started work immediately, providing continuing funds for the escapees living in and about Rome and arranging for them to return to their units or indeed to their home countries. The person in their care who was most quickly re-united with his family was young Paul Freyberg. His father, the General, came into Rome to collect his son and a few days later they were joined by his mother.

  Aside from arranging the repatriation of those for whom they had been caring over the previous months, the group turned its attention to repaying money which had been given to O’Flaherty over the years and which he, in turn, had spent on escaped Allied soldiers. They also began to make payments to individual Italians who had spent their own money directly on escapees and evaders. So the biscuit tins, which contained the records of the organisation from the time Derry became involved and had been carefully buried in the Vatican Gardens, were now dug up. His foresight in arranging a record-keeping system had proved very valuable. This screening committee headed by Derry continued to work for three years and during the course of its existence investigated more than 90,000 cases, presented 75,000 certificates of thanks signed by Field Marshal Alexander on behalf of the British Government and repaid £1 million in cash to those who had given money to O’Flaherty and his associates and others who had helped in this sort of work (in excess of €40 million in current terms). In relation to British Government funds which had been expended on military personnel from other jurisdictions, the first to repay was the Russian Government which refunded £25,000 (in excess of €1 million in current terms).

  The arrival of the Allies in Rome changed the direction of Derry’s work. It had a similar impact on the focus of O’Flaherty’s. Sam Derry recalls a conversation between the Monsignor and the US General, Mark Clark, when the Irishman quizzed the American sharply to make sure German prisoners were well treated. The Englishman also recalls meeting the Monsignor on the day Rome was liberated.

  Well my lad there is work to be done and off he went into the City to visit some of
our helpers and their relations who had suffered so much as a result of their activities on our behalf. In the evening he was back in the British Legation to see the Minister and myself with a list of requests for immediate action, some of which were not so easy to meet, considering the general chaos in Rome immediately after the liberation.3

  Unfortunately, there is little detail on the Monsignor’s activities in the next few months. We know that he continued to help those in need of his assistance. His situation was easier insofar as he was not in danger of arrest and execution. Now he was helping Italians and some Austrians who had fought under the German flag. When questioned by friends as to why he was helping people ‘on the other side’, his response was simple and direct:‘God has no country’. As always, he neglected himself in the interest of others. Of course he was always particularly generous with his time when he came across a fellow Irishman. Billy Vincent is a member of the Bourn Vincent family who bought Muckross Estate in Killarney in 1910. His father presented the entire property to the nation in 1932. During the War, Billy served as a Captain in the Inniskilling Fusiliers and was wounded at a battle on Monte Spaduro. As a result, he was transferred to a hospital in Rome in November 1944. Among the staff were a couple of Irish nurses who were friendly with the young priests and clerical students in the Irish College nearby. A priest there, Fr Seán Quinlan, was also a native of Killarney, and when he heard that Billy was in the hospital, he came to visit. ‘I must tell Monsignor O’Flaherty that you are in the hospital because he would have known your father.’4 The very next day, O’Flaherty called to the hospital and that is when they first met. At that stage, Billy was very restricted in his movement and could only walk with the help of a cane. He was delighted when O’Flaherty offered to drive him around to see the sights of Rome.

  In the next few weeks, Monsignor O’Flaherty could not possibly have been kinder to me. Every two or three days he would arrive with his car at the hospital and would take me around Rome. This was an experience I shall never forget because he knew Rome absolutely backwards and had written a guidebook on all its treasures … He was so good to me while I was recovering in hospital; he gave me such a good education of not only the Vatican but all sorts of other treasures in Rome.5

  In his recent recall of these events, he made no reference to the Monsignor’s driving abilities. His fellow Kerryman boasted widely that he must be a great driver given the fact that his record was absolutely clear of any accident although he was driving in Rome where the worst drivers in the world were, according to him. Others took a different view and felt his accident-free record was more likely due to divine intervention. When Billy was ready to leave hospital he wanted to acknowledge his fellow Killarney man for his generosity.

  I wanted to give him a present and did not know what he would like. I asked him and he said ‘I would like a pair of army boots like you have, if you could get them’. I looked at his shoes and they seemed to be alright and then he lifted up his foot and there were hardly any soles on his shoes. He had been walking all over Rome during the war with really only the uppers of his shoes. I was amazed. I would never have thought he had suffered in this way, so naturally I got a pair of army boots for him and he was delighted.6

  Derry made Alexander, the Supreme Allied Commander in Italy, aware of O’Flaherty’s work. The General called on the Monsignor to express his gratitude. He proved to be of great support in succeeding months. Derry recalls the views expressed by the Monsignor at that meeting:‘His only interest was what the Allies were going to do for the Italian families who had suffered.’7

  There were many Italian prisoners of war, mainly in South Africa, and their relatives now sought out O’Flaherty as the person most likely to be able to help. He realised that securing passage by ship or indeed by air to South Africa would be a slow process but with the intervention of Alexander, he was able to get there quickly and set up a communication system designed to locate the prisoners of war and report back to their families at home. He also flew to Israel at that time and made arrangements for many of the Jews, whom he had placed in secure locations in Rome, to be moved there. The diversion of Derry to other duties means that many of these events are not recorded. It is just like the earlier period, when we know only a fraction of what O’Flaherty achieved.

  Inevitably during this time, many Fascist collaborators came to trial. Two were alleged double agents, Dr Cipolla and Aldo Zambardi, the man who had first escorted Derry to the Vatican. The Monsignor testified on their behalf. As he explained to Derry, ‘They did wrong, but there is good in every man.’8

  Before the end of the War, the Monsignor returned home to Ireland on a visit and arranged to fly back through London in order to help one Italian family. An Italian woman in Rome, who was married to a German, had asked the Monsignor to try to locate her son who was in a prisoner-of-war camp somewhere in England. She had no idea where he was. The woman wanted the Monsignor to tell her son that his father had died. O’Flaherty arranged to have one day in London and was able to use the goodwill available to him there to locate the son, who was in a camp in Chelmsford. An official government car brought O’Flaherty there. He spent his day with the young man, as he had with so many others, engaged in the role of a pastor consoling him on the death of his father.

  The London Gazette carries announcements on behalf of the British Government, including honours which have been awarded. Inevitably, during a time of war, military personnel feature prominently. However, in the long history of the publication which dates from the middle of the seventeenth century, the issue which was published on Friday 20 April 1945 must be one of the most unusual. Among the 40 people listed were eight Catholic priests and one Catholic Brother. The entire list was headed by Monsignor O’Flaherty who was awarded a CBE. Also honoured ‘for services to the forces in Italy’ were Frs Borg, Galea, Madden, Buckley, Claffey, Gatt, Lenan, Treacy and Br Robert Pace, each of whom received an OBE. Mrs Henrietta Chevalier was awarded a British Empire Medal. Each recipient, including the Monsignor, was described as ‘British resident in Rome’. As O’Flaherty was born before the Irish State was established, this is a technically correct statement of his nationality. However, it is reasonably certain that the Monsignor was not made aware of this description at the time, and certainly would not have been happy with it. Right through his life, although he was entitled to a Vatican passport, it was the Irish one he used. Honoured on other occasions were the Greek Averoff, who received an OBE, and the military personnel Derry, Furman and Simpson. Typical of his modest nature, O’Flaherty arranged for his award to be made in a simple ceremony in the British Embassy in Rome. Shortly after that he was also awarded the US Medal of Freedom with Silver Palm (a very rare award for a non-American civilian), the citation reading:

  For exceptionally meritorious conduct in the performance of outstanding services to the Government of the United States in Italy between March of 1942 and June of 1944. His untiring energy and efforts, often at the risk of his own life, and his unfailing devotion to the cause of freedom were exemplified in the concrete aid given to so many prisoners-of-war.9

  Subsequently, the President of Italy, on behalf of the Government, awarded the Monsignor a silver medal for military valour with an accompanying pension.

  During the occupation of Rome, despite the persistent surveillance by the enemy, he spent himself courageously to assist and conceal numerous Allied prisoners-of-war and groups of patriots. With tireless energy, and paying no heed to the grave risks to which he continually exposed himself – both in his home (which he made into his operational base) and in the quarters of other resistance organisations, he distinguished himself by his brave and consistent combative action, in such ways as to give clear, shining example both of valour and of service. Singled out and relentlessly sought by the enemy, he still managed to achieve many and dangerous missions of war calmly facing the peril to his life, in order to practice at all times his high dedication to humanity and the cause of liberty.10
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  The Monsignor never bothered to collect the pension. As Sam Derry was to remark many years later, O’Flaherty ‘wanted nothing for himself’.11

  D’Arcy Osborne was anxious that recognition would be given to the work of Mrs Kiernan (Delia Murphy) and indeed Mrs Kiernan’s name was suggested for a decoration. However there were obvious difficulties. A British Government honour to the wife of an Ambassador from a neutral country for activities which were far from impartial could raise questions. By way of compromise, D’Arcy Osborne gave her a vase which she treasured greatly. Wherever her husband’s postings brought her for the rest of her life, including Australia and North America, the vase went with her.

  The ending of the War meant that O’Flaherty could resume his love affair with the golf course. Through playing golf on the course near Ciampino he became aware of a very neglected village full of people gravely stricken by poverty, who were worshipping at a tiny, half ruined church. He immediately took up the challenge and looked after this congregation for the next twelve years. His attention was to both religious and pastoral matters. He made practical arrangements, including ensuring that his contacts in Rome were used to the best advantage in order to supply this congregation with food and the necessities of life. The church was tiny, big enough only for the altar, the celebrant and the altar server. The congregation used to assemble outside. Among the congregation one Sunday, on a visit from Ireland, was his sister, Bride Sheehan. Over the years, she had endeavoured many times to give her brother money, to ensure that he had some of the comforts of life. She thought this was her opportunity and so she placed a big donation on the collection plate. Little did she realise that the collection plate, including the contribution from the locals and from O’Flaherty’s friends who attended Mass there, was disbursed among the poor immediately after Mass every Sunday. When people whom he had helped contacted him from abroad as to see how they could return the favour, he invariably asked for them to send clothes to help this congregation. Regularly, parcels arrived from some of the major shops in places like London and New York and soon members of the congregation were as well dressed as any in the general area of Rome.