IRISH REPLIES TO GERMAN WILES AND POISON GAS
HOW THE MUNSTERS CAPTURED THE ENEMY'S
WHEEDLING PLACARDS
It was from the Germans that the Irish Brigade got the first
intimation of the troubles in Dublin at Easter, 1916. The Germans,
heedless of their failure to induce the Irish soldiers in their
captivity to forswear allegiance and honour, availed themselves of the
Rebellion to try their wiles on the Irish soldiers in the field. Both
sides in the trenches often become acquainted, in curious ways, with
the names and nationality of the regiments opposed to them. But in
regard to a particular section of the British line, between Hulluch
and Loos, in April 1916, the Germans might easily know it was held by
Irish troops. The fact was proclaimed by the green banner with the
golden harp which the boys of the Brigade hoisted over the
breastworks--the flag which, in their eyes, has been consecrated in
the great cause of liberty by the deeds and sacrifices of their
forefathers, the flag for whose glorified legend they were proud to
die. So it happened that one morning these Irish troops were surprised
to see two placards nailed to boards on the top of poles, displayed by
the Germans, on which the following was written in English--
"Irishmen! In Ireland's revolution English guns are firing on
your wives and children. The English Military Bill has been
refused. Sir Roger Casement is being persecuted. Throw away your
arms; we give you a hearty welcome.
"We are Saxons. If you don't fire, we won't."
The Irish Brigade and the Irish Volunteers who rose in rebellion in
Dublin were alike recruited from the same class. Such are the
unhappily wayward circumstances of Irish life that the tremendous fact
whether this lad or that was to fight for England in Flanders or
against her in Dublin was in many cases decided by mere chance or
accident. At any rate, the kith and kin of numbers of men of the Irish
Brigade were among the Sinn Feiners. A widowed mother in Dublin had,
in consequence, a most tragic experience. The post on Easter Monday
morning brought her a letter from a company officer of a battalion in
the Irish Brigade announcing that her son had been killed in action.
"He died for Ireland," said the officer, knowing that it was true and
that it would help to soften her maternal grief. Before the day was
out her other son, wearing the green uniform of the Irish Volunteers,
staggered home mortally wounded, and as he lay gasping out his life on
the floor he, too, used the same phrase of uplifting memories:
"Mother, don't fret. Sure, I'm dying for Ireland."
The effect of the German placards on the battalion of Munster
Fusiliers, then holding the British line, was very far astray from
that which their authors hoped for and intended. A fusillade of
bullets at once bespattered the wheedling phrases. What fun to make a
midnight foray on the German trenches and carry off the placards as
trophies! No sooner was the adventure suggested than it was agreed to.
In the darkness of night a body of twenty-five men and two officers of
the Munsters crawled out into No Man's Land. They were discovered when
about half-way across by a German searchlight, and then the flying
bullets of two machine-guns commenced to splutter about them. Some of
the men were killed; some were wounded. The others lay still for hours
in the rank grass before they resumed their stealthy crawl, like the
Indians they used to read of in boyhood stories, and, having
noiselessly cut their way under the enemy entanglements, they sprang,
with fixed bayonets and terrifying yells, into the trench. The
Germans, startled out of their senses by this most unexpected visit,
scurried like rabbits into the nearest dug-outs. The notice-boards
were then seized and borne in triumph to the Irish trenches, to the
unbounded delight and pride of the battalion; and they are now
treasured among the regiment's most precious spoils of vanquished
enemies.
A few days later, on the morning of April 27, the Germans tried what
blows could do where lying blandishments had failed; and the Irish
Brigade had to face, for the first time, an infantry attack in force.
The enemy began their operations by concentrating a bombardment of
great intensity upon trenches held by Dublin Fusiliers. Then, shortly
after five o'clock, there came on the light breeze that blew from the
German lines a thick and sluggish volume of greenish smoke. "Poison
gas! On with your helmets!" Surely, the hearts of the most indomitable
might well have quailed at the thought of the writhing agony endured
by those who fall victims to this new and most terrible agency of war.
Instead of that, the flurry and excitement of putting on the masks was
followed by roars of laughter as the men looked at one another and saw
the fantastic and absurd beings, with grotesque goggle-eyes, into
which they had transformed themselves. But they were not the only
monsters in the uncanny scene. Like grey spectres, sinister and
venomous, the Germans appeared as they came on, partly screened by the
foul vapour which rolled before them. Not one of them reached the
Irish trenches. The Dublins, standing scathless in the poison clouds
which enveloped them, poured out round after round of rifle fire,
until the Germans broke and fled, leaving piles of their dead and
wounded at the wire entanglements, and the body of the officer who had
led them caught in the broken strands.
Two hours later, that same morning, there was another sally from the
German trenches, under cover of gas, against a different section of
the Irish. The parapets here had been so demolished by shell fire that
the Germans gained a footing in the trenches. But they were hardly in
before they were out again. "The time during which the Germans were in
occupation of our trenches was a matter of minutes only," says the war
correspondent of _The Times_. They were put to rout by the
Inniskillings, who came up from the reserve trenches at the double.
"Never was a job more cleanly and quickly done," adds _The Times_
correspondent. On the next occasion that the Germans launched an
attack with gas, they had themselves to drink, so to speak, the poison
cup they had prepared for the Irish. That was two days subsequently,
on April 29. "Providence was on our side," writes Major William
Redmond, "for the wind suddenly changing, the gas blew back over the
German trenches where the Bavarians had already massed for attack.
Taken by surprise, they left their front line and ran back across the
open under the heavy and well-directed fire of our artillery. In one
battalion of that Bavarian Infantry Regiment the losses from their own
gas and from our fire on that day were stated to be, by a deserter,
over eight hundred; and the diary of a prisoner of another battalion
captured on the Somme in September states that his regiment also had
about five hundred gassed cases, a large number of whom died."
The Irish Division continued to hold the Hulluch-Loos sector of the
line until the end of August 1916. They were subjected to severe
bombardments. It was a common occurrence for the enemy to send from
two to five thousand 5.9 shells a day into their trenches. What
fortitude and grim determination must they not have had at their
command to enable them to pass unshaken through these terrible
ordeals. They retaliated in the way they love best, with many a
dashing raid on the German positions.
For conspicuous gallantry in these operations the Military Cross was
awarded to several of the officers. In the cases of Captain Victor
Louis Manning and Lieutenant Nicholas Joseph Egan of the Dublin
Fusiliers, the official record says that "by skilful and determined
handling of their bombing parties they drove off three determined bomb
attacks by the enemy in greatly superior numbers," and that "they
continued to command their parties after they had both been wounded,"
gives but a faint idea of the faring nature of their deed. A small
counter-mine was exploded under a German mine at a point between the
opposing lines, but nearer to those of the Germans. The Germans were
able to occupy the mound first and establish a machine-gun on it, with
which they dominated the Dublin trenches. Volunteers being called for
to clear them out, Lieutenant Egan and a small party of privates,
armed with bombs, rushed out and carried the position. Then they had
to hold it against German counter-attacks which were launched during
the next three days. Lieutenant Egan was wounded in the wrist early in
the fight, but he and six men, being plentifully supplied with bombs,
held their ground doggedly. Instead of waiting for the Germans to
reach the mound, in what threatened to be the worst of the
counter-attacks, the party of Dublins advanced to meet them and drove
them back, thus conveying the impression that they were in greater
strength than was really the case. On the night of the third day
another party, under Captain Manning, came to their support. After a
further series of encounters had ended in favour of the Dublins, the
Germans abandoned the hope of recapturing the post, which was
subsequently strongly consolidated by the victors. On the fourth day,
when the struggle had definitely ended in favour of the Dublins, and
Lieutenant Egan was about to return to the lines, a bomb fell at his
feet. He was blown a distance of fifteen yards, and was picked up
seriously wounded in the thigh. Lieutenant Egan is a grandson of Mr.
Patrick Egan of New York, well known in the stormy agrarian agitation
in Ireland under Parnell and Davitt as the treasurer of the Land
League. Previous to the war Lieutenant Egan was in business in Canada.
Another fine exploit standing to the credit of the Irish Brigade was
that of Lieutenant Patrick Stephen Lynch of the Leinsters, who got the
Military Cross "for conspicuous gallantry when successfully laying and
firing a torpedo under the enemy's wire." It was an uncommon deed, and
just as uncommon is the very remarkable tribute with which the
official record ends: "His cool bravery is very marked and his
influence over his men very great." The Brigadier-General, George
Pereira, D.S.O., in a letter of congratulation to Lieutenant Lynch,
dated July 1, 1916, says: "Your leading the attack along the parapet
was splendid, but you must be more careful another time." Before the
month was out Lieutenant Lynch got a bar to his Military Cross--in
other words, he had won the distinction twice over--an honour which,
as General Hickie wrote to him, was well deserved, and likely to be
very rare. This young Waterford man--a fine type of the fearless and
dashing Irish officer, made out of a civilian in two years--was
promoted Captain in the Leinsters, and was killed on his birthday and
the completion of his twenty-fifth year, December 27, 1916. The
battalion was plunged into grief by the loss of Captain Lynch.
"'Paddy'--the name we all knew him by from the C.O. down to the
youngest sub.--was considered the most efficient officer in this
battalion, and he was certainly the most popular," writes Lieutenant
H.W. Norman, an officer of the Captain's company. "Everybody mourns
his death, and when the news got to his men they could not believe
that such a brave and daring officer could be killed, but the news was
only too true; and when it was confirmed I saw many's the officer and
man crying like children. He lost his life to save his men, who were
in a trench that was being heavily shelled. He went up with a
sergeant, in spite of danger and certain death, to get them out, and
on the way up a shell landed in the trench where they were, killing
both instantaneously." Another noble deed was that for which
Lieutenant John Francis Gleeson, Munster Fusiliers, won the Military
Cross. "Under heavy rifle fire and machine-gun fire, he left his
trench to bring in a wounded man lying within ten yards of the enemy
entanglements."
It was also in connection with these raids on the German trenches that
the Irish Division gained the first of its Victoria Crosses. The hero
is Captain Arthur Hugh Batten-Pooll of the Munster Fusiliers--a
Somerset man, and he got the V.C. "for most conspicuous bravery whilst
in command of a raiding party." "At the moment of entry into the
enemy's lines," the official record continues, "he was severely
wounded by a bomb, which broke and mutilated all the fingers of his
right hand. In spite of this he continued to direct operations with
unflinching courage, his voice being clearly heard cheering on and
directing his men. He was urged, but refused, to retire. Half an hour
later, during the withdrawal, whilst personally assisting in the
rescue of other wounded men, he received two further wounds. Still
refusing assistance, he walked unaided to within a hundred yards of
our lines, when he fainted, and was carried in by the covering party."
Captain D.D. Sheehan of the Munster Fusiliers supplies the following
spirited account of the raid--
"Our men got into the enemy's trenches with irresistible dash.
They met with a stout resistance. There was no stopping or
stemming the sweep of the men of Munster. They rushed the
Germans off their feet. They bombed and they bludgeoned them.
Indeed, the most deadly instrument of destruction in this
encounter was the short heavy stick, in the shape of a
shillelagh, the use of which, we are led to believe, is the
prescriptive and hereditary right of all Irishmen. The Munster
Fusiliers gave the Huns such a dressing and drubbing on that
night as they are not likely to have since forgotten. Half an
hour in the trenches and all was over. Dug-outs and all were
done for. Of the eight officers, four were casualties, two,
unhappily, killed, and two severely wounded, of whom one was
Batten-Pooll."
For months the Irish Brigade had on their right the renowned Ulster
Division. Thus the descendants of the two races in Ireland who for
more than two centuries were opposed politically and religiously, and
often came to blows under their rival colours of "Orange" and "Green,"
were now happily fighting side by side in France for the common rights
of man. Though born and bred in the same tight little island, the men
themselves had been severed by antagonisms arising out of those
hereditary feuds, and thus but imperfectly understood each other.
"When they met from time to time," says Major William Redmond, M.P.,
"the best of good feeling and comradeship was shown as between brother
Irishmen." Evidence of these amicable relations is afforded by a
letter written by Private J. Cooney of the Royal Irish Regiment. "The
Ulster Division are supporting us on our right," he says. "The other
morning I was out by myself and met one of them. He asked me what part
of Ireland I belonged to. I said a place called Athlone, in the county
Westmeath. He said he was a Belfast man and a member of the Ulster
Volunteers. I said I was a National Volunteer, and that the National
Volunteers were started in my native town. 'Well,' said he, 'that is
all over now. We are Irishmen fighting together, and we will forget
all these things.' 'I don't mind if we do,' said I; 'but I'm not
particularly interested. We must all do our bit out here, no matter
where we come from, north or south, and that is enough for the time.'"
Private Cooney adds: "This young Belfast man was very anxious to
impress me with the fact that we Irish were all one; that there should
be no bad blood between us, and we became quite friendly in the course
of a few minutes." Meeting thus in the valley of darkness, blood and
tears, the fraternity born of the dangers they were incurring for the
same great ends, united them far more closely than years of ordinary
friendship could have done. To many on both sides the cause of their
traditional hostility appeared very trivial; and there were revealed
to them reasons, hitherto obscured by prejudice and convention, for
mutual loving-kindness and even for national unification.
But it was not the first time that north and south fought together in
the Empire's battle. There is an eloquent passage on the subject in
Conan Doyle's _Great Boer War_. It refers to the advance of Hart's
"Irish Brigade"--consisting of the 1st Inniskillings, 1st Connaughts
and 1st Dublins--over an open plain to the Tugela river, at the Battle
of Colenso, under heavy fire from front and flank, and even from the
rear, for a regiment in support fired at them, not knowing that any of
the line was so far advanced--
"Rolling on in a broad wave of shouting, angry men, they never
winced from the fire until they swept up to the bank of the
river. Northern Inniskillings and Southern men of Connaught,
orange and green, Protestant and Catholic, Celt and Saxon, their
only rivalry now was who could shed his blood most freely for
the common cause. How hateful those provincial politics and
narrow sectarian creeds which can hold such men apart!"
On July 1 the Ulster Division won immortal renown on the Somme. It was
now the turn of the Irish Brigade to uphold the martial fame of the
race on the same stricken field. They were done with trench raids for
a while, and in for very big fighting.