ASPHYXIATING GAS AND LIQUID FIRE
CHARGE OF THE LIVERPOOL IRISH AT FESTUBERT; A NIGHT SURPRISE BY THE
INNISKILLINGS
Many a desperate engagement has been fought from Ypres in the north to
La Bassee in the south. Neuve Chapelle, St. Eloi, St. Julien,
Festubert, Givenchy, Hooge--to mention a few of them--are places that
will stand for all time in history as the scenes of most bloody and
tragical battles. They do not all spell British victories; but every
vowel of them represents British bravery, suffering, endurance,
resolution; and linked with them in enduring fame are the Dublins,
Munsters, Inniskillings, Leinsters, Connaughts, Irish Fusiliers, Irish
Rifles, and the Irish Regiment. An Irish battalion of another kind
makes a splendid entry into the history of the war at this stage--the
Liverpool Irish. They all had to face the new and most infamous
methods of fighting introduced by the Germans, clouds of asphyxiating
gas and sheets of liquid fire, the opening, literally, of "the mouth
of hell" in warfare. But these horrors were encountered and overcome
by the Irish battalions with the same valour as had previously
rendered vain the more legitimate weapons and methods of the enemy.
Neuve Chapelle is a rural village, with many enclosed gardens and
orchards, four miles to the north of La Bassee, and on the road
between Bethune and Armentieres. Fierce engagements for its possession
were fought in October and November, 1914. The Germans were driven out
of it on October 16th. It was retaken by them at the beginning of
November; and though strongly entrenched and barricaded by the enemy
it was finally captured by the British on March 11th and 12th, 1915.
The 2nd Royal Irish Rifles took part in the severe fighting around the
village at the end of October, 1914, and, as I have already stated,
were highly praised by Smith-Dorrien for their valiancy in holding up
a big German attack. They lost heavily on that occasion, but their
dead were avenged by the help the battalion gave in inflicting so
serious a defeat upon the enemy as the victorious reoccupation of
Neuve Chapelle. The first glimpse we got of the Royal Irish Rifles in
the battle is in a letter written by an officer of a battalion which
was closely co-operating with them, Captain and Adjutant E.H. Impey,
of the 2nd Lincoln Regiment. "The Irish Rifles came through us," he
says, referring to proceedings on March 10th, "and we cheered them
lustily. Lieutenant Graham was rallying his men round him with a
French newsboy's horn, giving a 'view-hallo' occasionally just as a
master collects his pack."
Captain Impey states that on the next day, March 11th, the Lincolns
were ordered to support the Irish Rifles, "Owing to some mistake," he
says, "the Irish Rifles attacked before their time, and so got no
artillery support. They lost very heavily in officers and men." It was
on this day that the battalion suffered the grievous loss of their
commanding officer, Lieut.-Colonel George Brenton Laurie. On the
first day Colonel Laurie seemed to have had a charmed life. "He
deliberately walked up and down, giving orders and cheering the men on
amid a flood of fire," says Sergeant-Major Miller of the battalion.
"He seemed unconscious of the fact that a great bombardment was taking
place. It was a wonderful sight to see him there, his big military
figure standing out boldly in presence of his soldiers." Colonel
Laurie was killed by the terrific shell fire which the Germans poured
on the advancing British. "It was brutal. We were lying in a wood. The
bullets were whistling over us in millions, and the screeching of the
shells was terrific," says Bugler Jack Leathem in a letter to his
mother at Downpatrick. "The trees were flying about like chaff and the
fellows getting blown to pieces. I do not know how some of us escaped.
Someone must have been praying for us. You know I am not very nervous,
but I was not sorry when it was over. It was four very hard days,
fighting both day and night, with no sleep and no trenches to protect
us, only the ones we dug ourselves with our entrenching tools. They
saved us from the bullets, but it was impossible to get out of
shell-fire."
"You would hardly credit it," adds Bugler Leathem, "but every time we
lay down to take cover out came our pipes and 'fags.' You would have
thought we were on a manoeuvre parade at home instead of in one of the
fiercest of battles." This was the spirit that brought the battalion
to Neuve Chapelle. About one o'clock in the afternoon of March 11th
the 2nd Lincolns proceeded up the road into the village, or, as
Captain Impey says, "the ruins of what was once a very pretty
village," and found the Irish Rifles there before them. "We lay in
support in this village," Captain Impey writes, "while the Irish
Rifles fought the enemy in front. A company was sent in close support
just behind them along a hedge."
One of the most interesting documents relating to the Irish regiments
in the war is a letter written by Father Francis Gleeson, chaplain of
the 2nd Munster Fusiliers. In it he states that each of the four
companies of the 2nd Munsters carries a green flag with a golden harp
in the corner, the Royal Tiger in the centre, and "Munster" inscribed
underneath. "The Irish flags are being highly honoured," he says. "The
French people are awfully kind to and fond of the Munsters, because
they are so Irish and Catholic. It is really true to say that in us,
the 'Munsters,' they recognise the children of the men who fought for
them at Fontenoy and Landen. They know that we are old, old friends,
indeed. Their histories tell of Ireland's brave sons having died for
their country here." Moved by these memories of the Irish Catholic
Brigade in the service of France from the fall of the Stuarts in
England until the fall of the Bourbons in France--and regularly
recruited for a hundred years from Ireland--the French people
recognise the distinct and separate nationality of the Irish
regiments. "We are 'Les Irlandais,' and not 'Les Anglais'" says Father
Gleeson. "Our flags have done that." "The French priests are very fond
of us," he goes on to relate, "and give us the use of their beautiful
chapels. The people wept after the Munsters the other day when we left
a village where we were billeted for a rest." He proudly adds, "On all
sides the Munsters are being congratulated for their magnificent
behaviour. This is due to the men's faith! They are the best conducted
battalion of all the Armies engaged in this world-war, because they
are the most Irish, the most Catholic, and the most pure."
The 2nd Munsters have been in the thick of the fighting ever since
the outbreak of war. Of the men who landed in France in August, 1914,
there are but few survivors. The bones of many are mouldering in the
soil of France and Flanders. Others are prisoners at Limburg-an-Lahn
in Germany, captured in the rearguard actions during the retreat from
Mons. The gaps in the ranks have been filled up by other lads from
Limerick, Cork, Kerry and Clare. Always uncertain are the chances of
life, but how strange and fantastic they sometimes appear! Who of
these boys ever imagined in 1914 that within a year they would be
serving in the British Army, much less fighting against Germany on the
Continent? Fresh from the towns and villages of Munster, and new to
soldiering and warfare, their racial qualities were put to the test at
Rue de Bois, close to Neuve Chapelle, on Sunday, May 9th, 1915, when
the Third Infantry Brigade were ordered to attack the trenches that
had been held by the Germans since October. The story of the fight
brings out the services of the chaplain of the battalion; and the
sustaining courage which the men derive from their religious
observances and their green flags, the embodiment of that ancient
Irish inspiration--"Faith and Fatherland." I have compiled my
narrative from the accounts written by Mrs. Victor Rickard, widow of
Colonel Rickard, the officer in command of the regiment, who was
killed gallantly leading his men on that memorable day; and
Sergeant-Major T.J. Leahy, of Monkstown, Co. Cork, who took part in
the engagement. It is worthy of note that Sergeant-Major Leahy, in an
earlier letter, mentions that he served Mass for the chaplain, and was
known to Father Gleeson as his "altar boy." He corroborates what
Father Gleeson has written of the high moral conduct of the battalion
by saying, "Prayers more than anything else console me, and every
fellow is the same, so the war has been the cause of making us almost
an army of saints."
In his description of the battle, Sergeant-Major Leahy states that on
the preceding day, Saturday, May 8th, close on 800 men received Holy
Communion at the hands of Father Gleeson, and wrote their names and
home addresses in their hymn books. When evening came the regiment
moved up to take their places in the trenches in front of Rue de Bois.
"At the entrance to Rue de Bois," writes Mrs. Rickard, "there stands a
broken shrine, and within the shrine a crucifix. When the Munsters
came up the road, Major Rickard halted the battalion. The men were
ranged in three sides of a square, their green flags--a gift from Lady
Gordon--placed before each company. Father Gleeson mounted, Colonel
Rickard and Captain Filgate, the Adjutant, on their chargers, were in
the centre, and in that wonderful twilight Father Gleeson gave a
General Absolution." Sergeant-Major Leahy supplies other particulars
of that moving scene. "On the lonely, dark roadside," he says, "lit up
now and then by flashes from our own or German flares, rose to heaven
the voices of 800 men, singing that glorious hymn, 'Hail, Queen of
Heaven.' There were no ribald jests or courage buoyed up with alcohol;
none of the fanciful pictures which imagination conjures up of
soldiers going to a desperate charge. No, there were brave hearts
without fear; only hoping that God would bring them through, and if
the end--well, only a little shortened of the allotted span. Every man
had his rosary out, reciting the prayers, in response to Father
Gleeson, just as if at the Confraternity at home, instead of having to
face death in a thousand hideous forms the following morning." He
mentions also that after the religious service Father Gleeson went
down the ranks, saying words of comfort; bidding good-bye to the
officers, and telling the men to keep up the honour of the regiment.
At dawn the German position was bombarded for seven minutes in order
to cut gaps in the barbed-wire entanglements through which the
Munsters might pass to the enemy's trenches. Then, as Sergeant-Major
Leahy relates, the order was given by the officers--"Are you ready,
lads?" "Yes," came the response. "Then over the parapet, like one man,
leaped 800 forms, the four green company flags leading." The
intervening plain measured three hundred yards. It was swept by the
close-range fire of the Germans, like rain from thunder-clouds.
Hundreds of the Munsters fell in the charge; but "The green flag was
raised on the parapet of the main German trench, and in they went,"
says Sergeant-Major Leahy. Mrs. Rickard states that the regiments on
the left and right, being unable to get near the line where the
Munsters were fighting, the position became that of a forlorn hope;
and the battalion was ordered to retire. "You were the only battalion
attacking to penetrate and storm the German trenches, although under a
hellish fire," said the Commander of the Brigade, subsequently
addressing the Munsters. "You have added another laurel to your noble
deeds during the present campaign. I am proud to command such a
gallant regiment." "So the Munsters came back after their day's work,"
writes Mrs. Rickard; "they formed up in the Rue de Bois, numbering 200
men and three officers." "It seems almost superfluous to make any
further comment," she adds. Father Gleeson was in the trenches during
the answering bombardment by the Germans. "It was terrible," said
Private Danaher; "houses, trees, and bodies flying in the air. Still,
Father Gleeson stuck to his post attending to the dying Munsters, and
shells dropping all around him. Indeed, if anyone has earned the
V.C., Father Gleeson has. He is a credit to the country he hails from,
and has brought luck to the Munsters since he joined them."
The Liverpool Irish leaped into fame and glory at the first chance
afforded them. That was at Festubert on June 16th, 1915. The
battalion, then in reserve, was rushed up to the trenches. A big
surprise movement by the French was arranged for that night, and the
Liverpool Irish were to create a diversion by an assault on the
enemy's trenches that fronted them, so as to attract reinforcements to
the spot in the hope that the lines to be attacked by the French, away
to the right, might thereby be weakened. It was what used to be called
"a forlorn hope" in ancient warfare, such as the storming of a breach,
from which the chance of a safe return was small, but which, if it did
no other good, would weaken the arm of the enemy in encountering the
main onslaught.
The detachment of the Liverpool Irish selected for this desperate
enterprise had an ideal leader in Captain Herbert Finegan, dashing,
combative, and resolute. The son of the late Dr. J.H. Finegan, a
well-known Irish physician in Liverpool, he was educated at
Stonyhurst, had a brilliant career at Liverpool University, and, with
his uncommon gifts of mind and tongue, seemed destined for distinction
in the law courts and the House of Commons, when war broke out and
diverted him to a wholly different arena of activity. He was given
charge of the attack. His company was the first over the parapets.
"Come on, Irish. Show them what we can do!" he cried in his impetuous
way as he thrust forward his head menacingly towards the German lines.
When the men were out of the trenches, a sergeant of the company
exclaimed, "It's sure death, boys, but remember we are Irish." He was
immediately blown to bits. The Germans, seeing the movement, met it by
scourging the advancing lines with shell fire.
Lord Wolseley has said that almost every officer who has led a
storming party across the open in full view of the enemy would
acknowledge that his one anxiety from first to last was, "Will my men
follow me?" Captain Finegan had no misgiving of the kind. He did not
need to look over his shoulder to see if his men had rallied to his
cry. They pressed round him as he ran across the open, these Liverpool
Irish, most of whom had never seen Ireland, and yet were as eager to
maintain her reputation for valour as the Irish Guards, the Munsters,
the Dublins, or the Connaught Rangers, born and reared at home. Capt.
Finegan was shot dead at the edge of the German trenches. Fired by
this example, the men pressed onward, and did not stop or stay even
when they had done what they had set out to do. "It was a job to make
them come back when we got the order to retire," said one of the
officers.
The forlorn hope had unexpectedly blossomed into a victory. The
Liverpool Irish took a German trench for themselves, along with
helping the French to make a rapid advance which resulted in the
capture of three miles of trenches of the enemy's lines. They got
congratulations on their achievement from the commander, Sir Henry
Rawlinson. Many of them shared the fate of their gallant leader. It
was a fate that Capt. Finegan had anticipated. "I will either go home
with the Victoria Cross, or stay here with a wooden one," he once
remarked to Sergeant MacCabe, of his company.
At Festubert also the 2nd Inniskilling Fusiliers carried through with
complete success an enterprise notable for wild daring and stern
valour. One attack on the German trenches had failed. The ground
between the opposing lines was strewn with the British dead. A second
attack was ordered under cover of darkness. The 2nd Inniskillings were
to lead the van in the principal sector. In spite of the pitchy
blackness of the night, it was certain that the German machine-guns
and rifles would take heavy toll before their trenches were reached.
But the Inniskillings mix brains with their bravery. So soon as night
fell, about 8 p.m., they crept over the parapet, one by one, and
squirmed on their stomachs towards the German lines. Slowly and
painfully they crawled through a sea of mud, from dead man to dead
man, lying quite still whenever a star-shell lighted up that
intervening stretch of 200 yards. By this method, platoon after
platoon spread itself over the corpse-strewn field, until the leading
files were within a few yards of the German trenches.
Then came the hardest task of all--to lie shoulder to shoulder with
the dead until at midnight a flare gave the signal, "Up and into the
German trenches." But the Inniskillings held on with steady nerves
through all the alarums of the night. Occasionally bullets whistled
across the waste, and some who had imitated death needed to pretend no
longer. But the toll was not heavy. At least it was infinitesimal by
comparison with the cost of an open tumultuous charge from their own
trenches. When at last the flash blazed up the leading platoons were
in the German trenches before the enemy had time to lift their rifles.
The Inniskillings caught the Germans in many cases actually asleep.
Many of the grey-coats woke up just in time to find British bayonets
at their throats. The entire force was confused and demoralised by
this sudden appearance in their trenches of khaki and the deadly
bayonet, and were quickly overthrown. The Inniskillings paid less for
the capture of the first and second lines of trenches than they might
have done by an open attack for the first alone. They made it possible
for the whole Division to sweep on and to score a victory where
another Division had previously found defeat.