Courage Under Fire: Father Willie Doyle, S.J., Priest and Hero of the First World War

By Fiorella De Maria

This historical novel for young people is about the heroic life of Father Willie Doyle, S.J., an Irish Jesuit priest who sacrificed his life serving wounded soldiers in World War I.

Father Doyle enjoyed a happy, privileged Victorian childhood in Ireland. Growing up in a loving, faithful Catholic family, he heard the call to serve God as a priest from a very young age. Shortly after his ordination, the First World War broke out, and Father Willie volunteered to serve as a chaplain to the thousands of Irish soldiers fighting in France.

This joyful, holy, brave, and compassionate priest left the country he loved and ministered to soldiers in the hell of the trenches, dodging bullets and bombs to ensure that dying soldiers could receive the sacraments. By the time he was killed trying to help a wounded soldier, Father Willie had become greatly loved and esteemed by both Catholics and Protestants fighting in the war.

The cause for the canonization of Father Willie Doyle has recently been opened in Rome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ignatius Press
• Release date: May 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9781642292817

Fiorella De Maria

Fiorella De Maria was born in Italy of Maltese parents. She grew up in Wiltshire, England, and attended Cambridge University, where she received a Bachelor’s in English Literature and a Master’s in Renaissance Literature. She lives in Surrey with her husband and children.  A winner of the National Book Prize of Malta, she has published four other novels with Ignatius Press: Poor Banished Children, Do No Harm, We'll Never Tell Them and the first Father Gabriel mystery, The Sleeping Witness.

Book preview

COURAGE UNDER FIRE

Illustration

FIORELLA DE MARIA

Courage Under Fire

type ornament

Father Willie Doyle, S.J.

Priest and Hero of the First World War

ILLUSTRATED BY

CHRISTOPHER J. PELICANO

IGNATIUS PRESS     SAN FRANCISCO

Cover art and design by

Christopher J. Pelicano

© 2024 by Ignatius Press, San Francisco

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-62164-650-1 (PB)

ISBN 978-1-64229-281-7 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number 2024931037

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

Prologue: An Unexpected Visitor

1. Courage Under Fire!

2. A Happy Victorian Childhood

3. A Merry Christmas at Melrose

4. Caring for the Poor of Dalkey

5. Grandmamma Byrne

6. God’s Soldier

7. Boarding School

8. A Saint in the Making

9. A Setback

10. A Schoolmaster, a Naughty Student, and a Priest

11. The Wandering Jesuit

12. The People’s Priest

13. War Comes to Europe

14. Gas!

15. Life and Death On the Western Front

16. Christmas in the Trenches

17. The Somme and the War’s Darkest Chapter

18. Encounters with the Enemy

19. Peaceful Interludes

20. Miracles in the Month of Mary and the Long March

21. The Last Battle: Thursday, August 16, 1917

Epilogue

PROLOGUE

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

January 1922

OLD HUGH DOYLE AWOKE with a start. It was too dark in his bedroom to make out the clock on the opposite wall, but he knew it was the middle of the night. The servants would be fast asleep in their quarters, but someone was moving around downstairs. At eighty-nine years old, Hugh Doyle was still in good health, but he struggled to get out of bed and put on his dressing gown and slippers. Whoever was moving about downstairs had no business being there, and Hugh had to investigate.

It was as he was walking slowly down the stairs, lamp in hand, that Hugh saw the man dressed in black, and he started in shock. Who are you? demanded Hugh, moving fearlessly toward the figure. What are you doing in my house?

The burglar ignored the question. Where do you keep your money? he hissed. Take me to your study.

Hugh was in no position to fight the far-younger man who threatened him, and he led him silently into his study. Here, said Hugh softly.

Unlock all your drawers. Quickly!

Hugh kept as calm as he could, carefully unlocking the drawers of his bureau, but he became aware that the burglar was no longer watching his every move. The black-clad figure was staring at a photograph of a young man in the uniform of a military chaplain, the robbery seemingly forgotten. Finally, the burglar picked up the photograph and looked intently at it. This is Father Doyle! he said in wonderment. The holy Father Doyle! He turned to Hugh, suddenly uneasy. Why do you have his photograph?

Hugh felt a lump in his throat, but he swallowed hard to stop emotions taking over. He was my son. He was killed during the war.

Slowly, the burglar kissed the photograph and placed it in his pocket. Then, awkwardly and apologetically, he walked out of the room and out of the house, not stealing a single coin from the old man. He could not steal from the father of such a great priest, a saint whose name was still spoken with affection and admiration by all who had known him. Perhaps, from heaven, Father Willie Doyle was touching that man’s soul, as he had touched so many while on earth, warning him to live an honest life.

Hugh Doyle stood alone in the dark room. He could almost feel his son’s presence near him, protecting him from harm.

Illustration

1

COURAGE UNDER FIRE!

1875

NIGHT WAS FALLING ACROSS IRELAND , and in the grand house at Melrose, the Doyle family settled down for the night. In the nursery, the nursemaid paced the floor, cradling the infant in her care. Baby William was a frail, delicate little one, and she settled him gently into his crib, smiling at the sight of that sweet little face staring seriously up at her. You’re wakeful tonight, said the maid, crossing the room to gather up her sewing basket and the bundle of clothes in need of mending. If she was going to have to keep watch while Willie went to sleep, the girl thought she could use the time wisely and get some work done. She lit a candle and placed it by the crib, sitting herself in a comfortable chair where she could watch the little one as she sewed.

The nurse was more tired that she had realized. The life of a servant was hard, even in a kindly household such as this, and the maid had hardly started stitching the hem of a petticoat when her eyelids began to droop. She could hear the soothing sounds of Willie’s soft breathing as he drifted off to sleep, and she found herself starting to doze . . .

As child and nursemaid slept, the candle burned low, and the flame touched the edge of Willie’s blanket. Flames began to tear at the fibers of his blankets. The nurse was so deeply asleep that she noticed nothing, but the sleeping child began curling his legs away from the fire, as though he could feel the heat even in his dreams. Across the landing, Willie’s father, Hugh, woke up with a start. He could smell smoke! He could hear the crackle of a fire burning in the nursery!

Hugh leapt out of bed and ran out of his room, throwing open the door of the nursery. He saw the crib in flames, and for a terrible moment, he did not know whether it was already too late to save his son. The nurse was woken by the sound of Hugh’s footsteps thundering across the room toward the crib. Hugh snatched up the tiny body just in time and handed him to the terrified nurse, ordering her out of the room while he dealt with the fire. As quickly as he could, Hugh pulled up the burning bedclothes and hurled them out the window before the fire could spread across the room.

When Willie Doyle was a man, he would joke that the fire in his nursery was his first experience of enemy fire. But no one was in a mood to joke the day it happened, with the stench of smoke lingering in the room. Devastating house fires were all too common at a time before electric light, and the family knew that their little child had had a blessed escape. God had great plans for Willie Doyle!

Illustration

2

A HAPPY VICTORIAN CHILDHOOD

WILLIAM JOSEPH GABRIEL DOYLE was born on March 3, 1873. His baptism was the only day he was ever called by that name; to his family and friends, he would always be Billie, Willie, or sometimes Sloper, the antihero of a popular children’s comic. Baby Willie did not know it as he slept peacefully in his mother’s arms, but his life was to be a blessed one—he had been born into a devoutly Catholic, well-to-do family living in a smart suburb of Dublin.

God has blessed us, said Willie’s mother at his birth. Willie was her fourth son and her seventh child. If his parents had not been such excellent role models, Willie could have grown up to be a spoiled brat, as he was surrounded by love and comfort from his earliest moments. His parents, Christina and Hugh, provided a prosperous home for their large, energetic family. Willie grew up in a grand house with servants and nursemaids, with an adored mother the children called the Little Mother, and a father who was every bit the polite Victorian gentleman, while always treating them with kindness and affection.

Willie’s family home, known as Melrose, was built in the picturesque seaside town of Dalkey, eight miles from the capital city of Dublin. There was no better town in which to grow up! It had everything: a parish church, lots of shops, open spaces where the children could play and explore—and best of all, a railway line with great big steam trains roaring up and down to Dublin all day!

As in any town, however, there was a sharp divide between rich and poor, and Willie’s father took his responsibilities as a wealthy Catholic very seriously. Hugh and Christina had never known poverty themselves, but they were old enough to remember the terrible days of the famine, when the potato crops had failed and a million Irishmen had starved to death. Another two million had left the country to escape starvation. The poor would not go hungry if the Doyles could do anything to help.

From as early as Willie could remember, there were always men and women coming to the house requesting his father’s advice or asking for donations to local charities. And Hugh was always generous with his time and money. Willie had a few ideas of his own when it came to caring for those less fortunate than himself, and he became a favorite among the poor of Dalkey.

Are you sure about this, Master Willie? asked Anne, the housemaid. They were all so fond of Willie that it was impossible to refuse him anything, and here he was in the middle of the kitchen, smiling sweetly up at her. Are you sure your father won’t mind?

Oh, he never minds about anything, assured Willie. He’d want me to help them.

I’m not sure he expected that big bill for medicine you gave him the other day, said Anne, causing Willie’s pale cheeks to redden slightly. He looked right surprised to me.

Willie chuckled softly. His father had not been all that surprised; things like that were always happening. Willie had gone on one of his expeditions to the houses of the poor on the hill. There were many families in that part of Dalkey who lived in extreme poverty, crammed into squalid houses with not enough to eat and no money for doctors and medicines. Willie had seen many sick children before, but he was shocked when he walked into one of the tiny, damp cottages and heard the sounds of a child struggling to breathe.

The girl was a consumptive, suffering from the deadly disease tuberculosis, which carried off thousands every year—especially children. The sound of wheezing and coughing would have caused most people to run away in fear, but Willie walked over to the bed and greeted the thin, ashen girl, who stared wearily up at him. For a moment, she did not recognize her visitor, but then a smile crept over her face and she reached out a hand to him. Master Willie, she whispered. It’s so good to see you.

They talked until exhaustion overcame the girl and she fell asleep. Willie had brought some cakes for the girl’s mother, but he knew it was not enough. I shall return directly with medicine, Willie promised.

There was no time for anyone to tell him not to trouble himself; Willie was already out the door and on his way to the chemist, knowing that the wise old apothecary would know exactly what a consumptive girl needed to improve her health.

Willie burst into the chemist’s, sending the bell above the door clattering loud enough for the whole street to hear.

Cod liver oil is a good restorative, said the apothecary after Willie explained the girl’s symptoms. The old man looked suspiciously at Willie. Do you have any money with you, son?

I’ll take three bottles, please, said Willie quickly. She’s very sick.

Do you know how much it costs? pressed the apothecary, already turning into his back room to prepare the medicines for his young friend. All the shopkeepers and tradesmen of the town knew Hugh Doyle, and the apothecary knew that he would not be left out of pocket.

Give me the bill, and I’ll take it to my father, said