Irishmen in the Great War: Reports from the Front 1915

By Tom Burnell

In a quest to to discover the forgotten Irishmen in twenty-seven Irish newspapers, many of which are now obsolete, the author uncovered unbelievable and forgotten newspaper articles, cast aside since the 1920s until now. Following the success of the first book in the series covering 1914, Irishmen in the Great War: Reports from the Front 1915 is a labour of love from author Tom Burnell, containing over 150 hand-picked news stories taken from a selection of twenty-seven Irish newspapers throughout the course of the year. These rare and untapped stories, many of which have not seen the light of day since the 1920s, give a unique insight into life on the front line and on the home front during the First World War.These are the accounts of local men at the front, letters sent home from soldiers in the trenches at Flanders, graphic narratives from allied gun turrets, Irish nuns at Ypres, Irish POWs held in Germany, troops coming under fire on Christmas morning and many more.We are presented with articles explaining the logistical side of supporting the army, from how the men at the front were fed to combating ailments brought about by living in the trenches. A letter from a surgeon of the King's Country Infirmary explains the graphic experiences of everyday life on the front line and the newspapers present feature articles on the use of torpedos, hand grenades, warplanes and more.Translated German letters pay tribute to the courage, stamina and shooting skill shown by the British and letters from British troops remark on the deathly accuracy of the German snipers. We also hear of a Kilkennyman who survived the sinking of the Lusitania and how the attack strengthened the resolve of Irish soldiers on the front.We see letters from lieutenants in the Leinsters, privates in the Munsters at Egypt, the Connaughts at Turkey, a fifteen-year-old soldier of the 18th London Irish Rifles, a Kilmoganny soldier writing to the Kilkenny People during a lull in the fighting, letters explaining how the 2nd Royal Irish Rifles fought at Neuve Chapelle and an officer's harrowing description of a gas attack at Hill 60.Following the success of the first book in the series covering 1914, Irishmen in the Great War: Reports from the Front 1915 is a labour of love from author Tom Burnell, containing over 150 hand-picked news stories taken from a selection of twenty-seven Irish newspapers throughout the course of the year. These rare and untapped stories, many of which have not seen the light of day since the 1920s, give a unique insight into life on the front line and on the home front during the First World War.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781473866379

Tom Burnell

Tom Burnell lives in Holycross, County Tipperary. He is a lexicographer, historian and author of ten books on Irish and wartime history.

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France

January, 1915

A Devastating Explosive

We learn, says the military correspondent of the Standard that a person described as ‘a distinguished English chemist’ has produced an explosive which, when used in artillery shells, is ‘annihilating’. It is claimed that a shell filled with this substance will, on detonating, give out a blast of flame over a mile long, and nearly two hundred yards wide, of so intense a nature that nothing can live in the area of its passage. Men, animals, and things are turned instantly into a scorched and charred mass, and all the atmosphere within the radius of the explosion is so affected that, instead of supporting, it destroys life, chemical action being brought to bear on the oxygen that it contains. It is stated that the War Office has tested the invention, and has decided to adopt it. If the full claim of the inventor be established, the whole course of the campaign ought to be affected. (TS, 01-1915)

A Warm Corner

A vivacious account of the fighting as it proceeds from day to day in the trenches in Flanders is continued in a letter from an officer at the front which The Times has described: ‘I have just done 72 hours in the firing line. The first two days were remarkable for the almost complete absence of rifle fire. But each morning the square heads kept sending Jack Johnsons over, which fortunately never came closer to my platoon than 50 yards. However, one fell only 10 yards from my captain’s dug-out, but thank God, it did not burst. In fact, quite six that came over failed to burst! But yesterday, after the usual morning shell fire, a sniper began to annoy us and throughout the afternoon at intervals plugged away at my sector of trench, constantly hitting the parapet. We tried to locate him, and though being fairly confident he was in a shell-shattered barn opposite, and on the right of the German advanced trench, we could not mark him down. My men wanted to fire on the chance of getting him, but I prevented them, as that sort of thing only creates wind up, and then it becomes infectious and every one blazes away, thinking there’s an attack and there is nothing gained, but there are sure to be casualties. Well, night fell and the —regiment came up to relieve us. I was just talking to one of their officers and saying we had had a quiet time, save for shell-fire, and my platoon was filing out of the trench, when suddenly bullets fairly whistled over. I shouted to my platoon to get back into the trench and leaped in myself; the —regiment leaped in too. It was pitch dark and our men started to reply. I had bayonets fixed and stopped them firing, but still bullets were coming thick and fast. Well, it was all very quick and lively, but our spell in the trenches was over and the sooner we were back in the billets the better. So we started off again. We had two miles to go. We got about two hundred yards when we passed the support trench of another regiment. The sergeant said quietly as I passed ‘Get by us quick as you can; they are doing a lot of sniping.’ No sooner said than ping, ping, and over they came again. We threw ourselves flat on the side of the road. I never made myself so flat in my life until it was over. Then off again in single file. Another hundred yards, then they let us have it again. There was a deserted trench full of water by the roadside, and shouting to the men to do ditto, I jumped in and found myself halfway up to my thighs in water; but we were safe behind cover. When that stopped, we were able to re-form and got back without further incident; had been relieved a platoon at a time, so we were quite on our own. When it was all over one feels the strain a bit, and I am quite tired today. By extraordinary luck none of my platoon were hit. The pitch darkness saved us, but it was hot while it lasted. (CS, 01-1915)

Chaps in Trenches

Frost-bite, by which a considerable number of soldiers at the front have been attacked, is an affliction of which, fortunately, we know little in this country. There, we suffer from an extremely mild form of it of which the familiar symptoms are ‘chaps’ and chilblains. These minor discomforts arise from the same causes as frost-bite, namely, the cutting off of the blood supply owing to the contraction of the blood-vessels under the influence of the cold, but they are nothing in comparison with the real thing with which Tommy is making a first-hand acquaintance. We have all read how the friendly Russians meeting a stranger in the streets of Petrograd with a white nose-tip will stop him without ceremony and apply friction to the frost-bitten nasal organ with snow. The tallowy appearance of the skin which thus arrests attention arises from the cessation of the flow of blood into the skin. At this stage it is not attended by pain because the nerves are benumbed—the cold has produced local anaesthesia—and the patient is often unaware of his condition. The feet are particularly liable to attack, and it is these extremities that the majority of cases in the trenches have occurred. The hands and the tips of the ears are also vulnerable points. Frost-bite is only dangerous when treatment is delayed. In that case gangrene probably succeeds the mortification of the frozen tissues, it becomes impossible to restore circulation to the part affected, and in most cases the services of a surgeon are then necessary. Early treatment is thus of the utmost importance, and many soldiers have been saved from permanent disfigurement by receiving prompt attention in the field hospitals a short distance behind the trenches. The treatment is directed to the restoration of circulation in the frost-bitten part, and the best method of doing this is by the application of snow or ice-water. Heat must be avoided, and the patient must not be taken near a fire or into a warm room, otherwise the blood will begin to flow again too freely, with the result that acute inflammation will be set up in the damaged tissues and his last state will be as bad as his first, for mortification will be likely to follow, and the frost-bitten flesh will turn black. It is usually during the recovery, when the blood begins to circulate again that the patient suffers most. (TS, 01-1915)

Christmas

Mr and Mrs J. Kennedy, of Newport’s Lane, Waterford, have received the following letter from their son, James, who is serving at the front in C Company, 1st Royal Rifles. 3rd January, 1915:

Dear Mother and Father, Just a line to hope you are alright as the departure of this letter leaves me. I received both your parcels alright and the cigarettes and other things which were very nice. Some of the things were in bad condition but I am sure it was no fault of yours. I believe they throw them around anyway coming through. However, roll on next Christmas. I believe you asked me how I spent Christmas. I had a very curious one. We are only about three hundred yards from the German trenches. There was very little firing during Christmas Eve. About 8 o’clock the Germans started off singing hymns and songs. We kicked off with ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ and when both sides finished we would start cheering each other. You should see the trenches decorated with lanterns. You could not see any of the Germans but you could hear them shouting the compliments of the season and other things. I heard one fellow asking have you any cigarettes, so I said yes. He asked me to come half way and he would meet me, but as it was rather dark, I was not having any, although we were walking around the top of our trenches.

Christmas morning dawned a splendid morning. The ground was covered with frost and both sides were still singing and talking to each other. They asked us to come half way and with that two of our officers went over to some German officers. They met half way and exchanged cigarettes for cigars. One of the officers brought back a helmet. Some of the K nuts were out between the two trenches. It was like a football match only we had no ball. All was quiet all day until about 12 midnight when a shot rang out in the still air. That was the signal to carry on. We got relieved out of the trenches on St. Stephen’s Night. I think I have no more to say just now until I hear from you again.

Yours etc.

Jim. (WN, 01-1915. James Kennedy survived the war)

Corporal’s Experiences

(Late of Thurles)

26 Morton Street, Clonmel

23-12-’14

‘Dear Sir, Having just returned from the War, being right there from the very start up to the end of November, I enclose herewith an account of my experiences for favour of insertion in your valuable paper of this week. Being a Thurles man, I should be glad if you will grant me this favour. —I am, sir, yours faithfully,

C. J. Kennedy.

Corporal C. J. Kennedy, Army Service Corps, brother-in-law of Mrs Martin Flynn, 26 Morton Street, Clonmel, who has just arrived home from the front, has some thrilling experiences to narrate of life in Belgium and France, during the great retreat from Mons right down to the Aisne. He says—being one of the advance party of my brigade of the 1st Army Corps, we left early in August, 1914, for the seat of operations, and from port of disembarkation right up to ‘Mons’ we had our hands pretty full, and were kept pegging away all the time until we reached that memorable place, where the British Expeditionary Force made a name for itself and proved to the world that there are none to equal them in dash and bravery. My post was a very responsible one, clerical work with a supply column, and you had to have your wits very much about you in the business, especially as the Germans were rather fond of us. During our advance up to Mons my duties were certainly stiff, and we had heavy marching all the time. After marching sometimes at the rate of 25 to 30 miles a day, we had then to turn in to issue food, no easy job. I had to march with the infantry, artillery, and the other units, which constituted a brigade, all the time. After getting the order to bivouac in some field we would be lying down for about an hour or so when the order would come to saddle up and move off at once. Going through the various villages and towns in France and Belgium on our way to Mons we were most cordially received by the good, kind people of these two countries. They turned out in hundreds to meet us, and treated us to fruit, chocolates, etc., they were all so delighted to see us.

Now, to come to the first great battle of the war, the Battle of Mons, where we figured most conspicuously against such innumerable odds, although the enemy were in such numbers at the time, with their tip-top weapons against us, we certainly taught them a lesson and showed them besides what Britain could do with a good and well trained army. In that battle the enemy, or at least the best of the German Army got mowed down like sheep with the terrific fire of the Maxims from our infantry. In the battle of Mons the Irish fought bravely, and showed to the world what Irishmen could do, especially in a war where right and justice and also freedom of nations are at stake. The name of Ireland during this great battle was on everyone’s lips, and this, no doubt, gave them a better heart to fight and win many a victory. The great charge in this battle of Mons far equalled the Balaclava Charge, the enemy suffering terribly. In the retreat from Mons we had to be on the alert all times with our supplies, as the enemy were in such great numbers. During this retreat we were often dead beat, and I honestly think no other army in the world could equal the work accomplished. Even men on horseback were absolutely worn out. We were often days and nights without any sleep, with the Uhlans (Germans) closing in in thousands around us. These Uhlans are some of Germany’s best cavalrymen, and not very pleasant people to be dealing with either, but still, with all their cleverness, we could easily outflank them, and during the fierce rear guard actions against tremendous odds during the memorable retreat on Paris, through the German rout on the Marne, to the great battle on the Aisne, the British Army covered itself with imperishable glory. The enemy suffered disastrously in these engagements, and were demoralised, when they were eventually driven right back from a day’s march to Paris. The retreat from Mons was certainly a most clever piece of work, and it was carried out with marvellous skill and energy. All the time the enemy’s aeroplanes were soaring over us, watching our movements, and the guns were roaring around us, and I can tell you we had trying work issuing out food to the men. But we always did it without a hitch. Everyone admits that the food supply all through was excellent, and continues excellent to the present day. The artillery fire from our guns during the great retreat was certainly most effective towards drawing the Germans out of the woods, where they make it a habit of concealing themselves. The Engineers also made a name for themselves in this retreat. All during this time we often got a visit from a German aeroplane, and much to their regret and surprise some of them had never the good fortune of being allowed to return to their own lines again as they were always brought down by our heavy siege artillery (the R. G. A.), and many were brought down by the first shot. Certainly during all those trying times we clerks had more than enough to do to keep in touch with all units in issuing out supplies, especially as the enemy were in such great numbers, but their presence would never take a shake out of us, we found a way to issue and we did it to perfection. During the marches it was most pitiful to see poor refugees (Belgians and French) trudging along the roads with us, some with babies in their arms, and poorly clad, and more were well to do people. I often had to give these unfortunate people some of my own food out of my haversack. I had several miraculous escapes, and feel grateful for escaping so lightly, but I trust in due course to be for action again. All through France you can hear the soldiers sing the famous song, ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary,’ and even the French soldiers join in with the civilians in singing it. We, Tipperary soldiers, like to hear it, for it called to mind our own dear old country. (TS, 01-1915. Corporal Cornelius J Kennedy survived the war)

Graphic Narratives From a Gun Turret and a Trench

In all the annals of the war there is nothing more interesting than the results of the practical test of modern theories of Naval warfare. Apart from the power of submarines and the possible effect of action by aircraft in a modern sea fight, we have the excuse of ‘the real thing’ in its modern form in the engagement in which Admiral Von Spee’s squadron was destroyed near the Falkland Islands. In this action the factors of speed and gunnery were tested in the clearest manner and the lesson is plain for all to read. It provides the most impressive testimony to the insight and foresight of Lord Fisher. Narratives of the engagement have now been received from officers who were present, and many of these accounts give a vivid description of the sense which a modern Naval engagement presents. From this point of view one of the most succinct and graphic descriptions of the action comes from the pen of an officer on HMS Kent, which has been published in the Morning Post. From this narrative are taken the following quotations: ‘For a good four hours I was in the fore-turret firing; during that time we were continually having shot and shell screaming about us, and a horrid noise it was. Once I opened the turret door, which a shell had pierced, and at the same moment I looked up aloft just in time to see the foretop-gallant-mast come down, so I thought it was time to close the door again. At 7.10 p.m. firing from the enemy ship stopped suddenly, and I saw through my binoculars that she was on fire in the region of the conning tower (vital spot) and she hauled down her flag, so we ceased firing. I was glad as it enabled my crew to sponge out the guns which had become red-hot.

The End of the Nurnberg

‘Shortly afterwards, however, she hoisted her colours again—we were now quite close to each other—but she was more ahead and my turret was, therefore, much in requisition, as it could be turned on either bow, as well as right ahead. She also appeared to have got her fire out. They opened fire again on us and we replied with the fore turret and forward casemate guns on starboard side, using lyddite shell, which does more local damage than common shell. They very quickly ceased firing, and never fired again, hauling their flag down. They were very badly on fire, the whole conning tower and fore bridge being in flames, helped by the fresh breeze, and they had a bad list to starboard, which increased, and we saw that they were gradually sinking; also at this time we caught sight of many heads in the water coming towards us. At 7.30 p.m. we saw the Nurnberg slowly turn on her side, very much on fire, and gradually sink between the waves. There was no explosion. Through my binoculars I saw heaps of poor fellows standing on her side as she gently rolled over and sank. After we had seen her go we turned our attention to saving all those in the ice-cold water. We picked up altogether twelve men, some of whom have died since from exposure. On board there were seven killed, one being my servant, twelve wounded—not a single officer was touched, and we were very lucky indeed. You have often heard me speak of those rapacious birds called albatrosses. They attacked the Germans in the water, pecked their eyes out and regularly went for them; a great many let go what they were holding on to for this reason, and lost their lives.’ (CS, 01-1915)

Irish Nuns at Ypres

A Week in the Cellars

The following is an extract from a letter to Mr William Redmond, M. P., from his niece, Sister Mary Teresa, one of the Irish Nuns at Ypres:

Oulton Abbey, Stone, Staffordshire

‘We have been here since the 24th of November. The Right Hon. Lady Abbess of Oulton has invited us over since the beginning of the war, but we thought it would not have been necessary to leave. However, the times became so bad that after living in the cellars for a week, it was decided we should go. Just before leaving the old Abbey the first bomb fell on it, quite close to us, only about a yard or two away, and we escaped almost by a miracle. Then we had to walk to Poperinghe, about nine miles, carrying our packets, and trying to avoid all the shells which were destroying the poor little town. Indeed our adventures and our journey in the British ambulances as far as Boulogne were really marvellous. One of the Nuns had the good idea of keeping a kind of journal during the war, and it turned out really so very interesting that the Rev. Mother Prioress is going to get it printed as a little pamphlet, and have it sold, to try and bring us a little profit. But everyone has been very kind to us. Lady McDonald, a friend of one of the community here, sent us shoes, stockings, etc. The Right Hon. Lady Abbess of Oulton, and all the Nuns are more than devoted; they wish us to stay here till the war is finished, or till we see our way a little. This community was formerly at Ghent, and it was from Ghent that the house of Ypres was founded, so you see it is quite a link with us, almost as if we were coming back to a mother house.’ (TS, 01-1915. William Redmond—Major William Hoey Kearney Redmond, died of wounds at Wytschaete Wood in Belgium after being injured by a shell in June, 1917. The book The Irish Nuns at Ypres – an episode of the war was published in 1915 by Smith, Elder and Co, London. It is now out of copyright and available for free download at www.archive.org/).

Irish Prisoners in Germany

Futile attempts to win over Officers

Mr L. V. Austin, a surgeon, who went to France with the British Expeditionary Force, and was taken prisoner on August 17th and kept in Germany until he was released, has related his experiences to the Bristol Times and Mercury. In the course of an interview, in which he describes the daily life of the prisoners—British, French and Russian—in the two great camps at Torgan and Burg, Mr Austin gives the following description of attempts by the Germans to win over the Irish prisoners to their side. He says–At Burg occurred the comedy of the German attempt to win over the Irish officers to the side of the Huns. The British officers were lined up, and the Germans caused the Irish Roman Catholics amongst them to step out of the ranks. They were taken away, put in a separate room where there were no Russians, and given certain privileges, such as a ration of white bread, and so on. They were then asked if they would serve against King George, but, needless to say, this characteristic German dodge was fruitless. It was also understood that certain Caucasian Russians had been asked by the Germans to serve against the Tsar. The ‘Irish Rebels’, of course, refused to rebel, but were never mixed with the Russians, and when Mr Austin left Burg they still had a room to themselves. At Burg the prisoners were only allowed one bath a week, and other arrangements were bad. The inspecting general used to get ‘paralytic with rage’ whenever he saw an English prisoner. He found that the English were sleeping in adjacent beds, and at once issued an order that the British and Russians must sleep in alternate beds. This order was carried out, and its only object appeared to be to get the Officers of the two nationalities to quarrel. At Burg Mr Austin first came across the watch dogs provided to aid sentries in preventing the escape of prisoners. They are of the same type as the Paris police use in the hunting down of criminals. Mr Austin mentioned that during the various journeys of the British officers they were always insulted by the public, who used very bad language to them, and where they came across German soldiers the latter struck up ‘The Watch on the Rhine’ or ‘Germany Over All’. They were always heavily guarded, but they could hear the people cursing them from beyond the guard. Mr Austin proceeded to describe the typical fare they had at Magdeburg. For breakfast there was coffee and potato bread, which the prisoners used to supplement with an egg purchased by themselves; for lunch a chunk of pork. With unlimited potatoes, and generally a little preserved fruit. The evening meal, which was served at six o’clock, consisted of a slice of German sausage on bread. They also came across that very unpleasant oily fish, the Bismarck herring. Mr Austin said that he seldom had an opportunity of discussing the war with the Germans, and he agreed that the German public were unaware of the true state of affairs. But one sentry at Burg, talking to the British officers, said that he supposed that when the war was over England, France, and Russia would share Germany up. The British officers made serious complaints in regard to the circumstance that they were ordered on their honour to deliver up their gold and valuables, and their rings were taken, but subsequently the wedding rings were returned. The word of honour of a German officer was given that the valuables, which the British officers had sealed in packets, were to be returned at the end of the war, but he knew for a fact that envelopes thus sealed were afterwards opened by the German authorities and sovereigns extracted. Ultimately, the officers were searched by expert prison searchers, a proceeding which they keenly resented, for the removal of rings and personal property was recognised as being contrary to the rules laid down by the Geneva Convention for the treatment of prisoners of war. As stated, the original payment to the officers was 100 marks a month, but afterwards that was cut down to 5d per day. (KJ, 01-1915)

Kilmoganny Soldier at the Front

Interesting letter

We have received the following:

France 25th Dec., 1914.

Dear Sir—As there is a lull in the firing. I take the opportunity of letting you know how some of the boys of the old county is faring out here. As I write now there is a heavy battle on our right. It has been raging for the last couple of hours, but in our locality there is nothing doing—only an occasional shot from a sniper. It is awful to see the terrible destruction wrought by the guns of the enemy. Some of the grandest churches and other notable buildings have been razed to the ground; little dwellings shattered which were once occupied by happy families. A few days ago we had a great battle and made great progress. For days afterwards you could imagine you still heard the terrible cannonade. No-one could imagine at home what it was like. ‘Coal boxes’ (as they have called the heavy shell fired by the enemy’s 11 inch howitzers) are something awful when they explode. They fall at the rate of about four every two minutes, but you soon get used to them. The weather out here is bad at present—plenty of rain and snow. It is grand to see our airmen hovering over the German lines and bringing us back information amidst a hail of shot and shell. They are very brave fellows. They only laugh at it. We are well looked after by our people at home, and on Boxing Day we received Princess Mary’s Xmas Box, which was very nice. On Xmas Day our infantry had a chat with the enemy, as in many places only 100 yards divides them. But about midnight they chatted in a different way. But such is war. I live at Kilmoganny, about nine miles from the town, and my parents reside there and I hope to do the same very shortly. If you would publish this in your paper I would be very glad to receive a copy from you as I was always a reader of the Kilkenny People.

Hoping that the old county will still maintain its reputation in the field for hurling, as we are here at the front, fighting for King and Country, I am, one of the Boys of the Nore,

25387, Gunner P. O’Connor,

5th Siege Battery.

2nd Siege Artillery Brigade,

British Expeditionary Force.

(KP, 01-1915 Gunner O’Connor survived the war)

Letter from Waterford Soldier in Germany

Mr Thomas Threlfall, bandmaster of the Barrack Street Brass and Reed Band, has just received a letter from his son, James, who went out with the first British Expeditionary Force in August last. He fought with the 18th Royal Irish at Mons, Armentieres, and the Aisne, and was taken prisoner about six weeks ago. His letter, which was posted on November 26th, and received in Waterford yesterday morning, throws some light on the treatment of prisoners by the Germans. The text of the letter is as follows:

‘Dear Mother and Father—Just a line to say I received your welcome letter and parcel. The money came in very handy, as we don’t get enough grub here. We are having plenty of cold, frosty weather; so the clothing came in handy, as I had no socks on me. I wish I could let you have some of my pay, as I have a lot to come, for I drew only five francs (4s. 2d) since I left Devonport. We get treated very well here but, needless to say, I missed all the good things at Christmas, and thought of the happy times I had last year with you all. I hope you are all quite well. I will write to you again. —Your loving son.

‘JIM.’

Kriegagefangener,

5th Battn, 5th Troupe.

Hamel, Hanover.

Mr Threlfall has two other sons in the service—one on board H. M. S. Gibraltar, and the other in the Royal Engineers. (WN, 01-1915. Only one casualty named Threlfall died in WW1. He was a soldier from Westmorland, UK)

Mass on the Sea Shore

A solemn and impressive ceremony took place on the sea shore at Dunabrattin, County Waterford, on Tuesday morning. It was here that the Morning Star schooner was lost some ten days ago, the captain and four men losing their lives. Two of the bodies have been recovered, but that of the captain and a Cork seaman have not. The relatives of the lost captain had representations made with a view to having Mass celebrated on the sea shore where the wreck took place, and accordingly on the morning stated, the Rev. Father Norris arrived to celebrate Mass. A temporary altar was erected covered over with the vessel’s sails, and here the ceremony was carried out in all solemnity. There was a large congregation comprising the villagers and others, as well as the hardy fishermen of the district, and the solemn celebration amid surroundings of craggy rocks and towering cliffs and mountains associated with the remembrance of the thrilling tragedy enacted there some short time previously all tended to make a lasting and vivid impression upon the devout congregation. The solemn ceremony having concluded, the priest performed the function of blessing the waters around that part of the coast. The scene, so quiet, so impressive, will live on in the minds of those who were present on the occasion. (ME, 01-1915. See also, Sequel to a County Waterford Wreck, The Wreck of the Morning Star at Dunabrattin, and Wreck of the Morning Star)

Nine of one Family in Army

Death of Lismore R. G. A. Man

Sorry we are to announce the death of Corporal Patrick O’Brien, of the Royal Garrison Artillery, a native of Chapel Street, Lismore, which melancholy event took place at Plymouth after an illness only of a day or so, due to an attack of double pneumonia. The deceased came from an old and well-known Lismore family, and was about 45 years of age. He was a married man, and leaves a wife and young family to mourn his loss. In 1903 and during the Boer War deceased was Sergeant in the Waterford Artillery, and did service with the battalion at Straddon Heights for nine months or so, and at which time he was awarded a medal for good conduct. He was of a robust constitution, and a good workman, and for the past few years acted as engineman at the Lismore sawmills. This position he left to volunteer and joined the R. G. A. We understand that nine of his family are serving with the colours as follows: Patrick O’Brien (son), attached to the R. G. A., William (son) stoker on H. M. S. Monarch, Martin (son) at the front with the R. F. A., Cornelius (brother), in the R. G. A., Walter Mansfield (nephew), James Mansfield (do), and John Mansfield (do), attached to the Leinster Regiment at the front. Deceased had been on furlough before Xmas, and looked in his usual form; but on return he got a wetting, which brought on pneumonia. Deceased was laid to rest at Plymouth with full military honours, two bands being in attendance, while the usual firing ceremony was gone through. To the heartbroken wife we take this opportunity of tendering our sincere sympathy, and trust that the Almighty will console her in her affliction. (ME, 01-1915, All of Patrick’s sons, brothers and nephews survived the war)

On The Battlefield

Waterford Rifleman’s Part in The Great War

Below we give an extremely interesting account of the events of the Great War from the day of mobilisation of the British Army, the Battle of Mons, the retreat there from, and the subsequent battles