THE VICTORIA CROSS
A NOBLE BAND OF IRISH HEROES, OFFICERS AND MEN
That plain Cross of bronze, with the simple motto, "For Valour," is
the most honoured and coveted military decoration in the world. It has
been won in the present war, down to the end of 1915, by as many as
twenty-one Irishmen, who have splendidly sustained their country's
inspiring heritage of bravery on the battlefield.
Courage, bravery, valour, are, in a way, mysterious attributes. We all
understand what they mean; we all regard them as noble and heroic; we
all desire to be possessed of them. Yet we know that only to the few
comparatively do they belong; and in a puzzled mood we ask
ourselves--Why is it that in the face of death in warfare one man
should be fearless and another timid and faint-hearted? It is supposed
that most men are naturally cowards. I remember hearing a remarkable
statement made by Archibald Forbes, a famous war correspondent of the
past, in a lecture on his experiences as a journalist on the field of
battle. He said there is infinitely less steadiness in the soldier of
any nationality under fire than the civilian imagines. He had watched
the conduct on the field of the armies of eight European nations, and
there was never an engagement in which he did not see what he called
"a stampede," or, more explicitly, soldiers flying in the wild
disorder of terror.
Forbes did not attempt to explain why this was so. He simply recorded
the fact. To me it seems as if the quality which is commonly called
cowardice is but a form of fear, and fear is an instinctive emotion
which is to be seen displayed throughout the entire animal kingdom. It
shows itself at a very early age in the shrinking apprehensiveness of
the infant. The purpose of it appears to be that of self-protection
and self-preservation. One of its first impulses is to avoid the
danger which threatens by running away from it. We see that in the
action of a horse harnessed to a vehicle which, by reason of a sudden
fright, breaks from human restraint, and dashes wildly through the
streets, endangering itself and everyone that crosses its course. Man
is also prone to take flight under the pressure of fear for his life.
Unlike the horse, he controls his actions by reason, more or less. But
to fly from danger is, in most circumstances, allowable to the
civilian, under the law of self-preservation. He can run away without
any hurt to his self-esteem, or any risk of being called a coward.
It is a crime for a soldier on the field to turn his back on danger.
Of course there is nothing despicable in a retirement under orders
when faced with overwhelming odds. We can see Wellington at Salamanca,
caught in the _melee_ of a British flight before a dashing charge of
French cavalry--as Maxwell saw him, "With his straight sword drawn,
riding at full speed, and smiling." He fled that he might live, and
win the battle. But the soldier must stand firm when the shells are
bursting terrifically around him and the bullets whistle their death
tune in his ears, or advance undauntedly towards the hidden enemy, who
thus menace him with death and mutilation, until a command or a
bullet stops him.
Yet even in the soldier to shrink from pain, danger and death is a
natural impulse, for it is one of the instincts of which no amount of
training and discipline can entirely divest humanity. President
Abraham Lincoln was very reluctant to sanction the execution of
soldiers for cowardice during the American Civil War. He used to say
it was impossible for a man always to control his legs. "How do I
know," he would ask, "that I should not run away myself?" Happily
there are things which help to sustain and embolden the soldier in
that terrible trial. Some of these enheartening influences are
external to the soldier himself. His country's cause and the
reputation of his regiment help to brace him for the ordeal. The
companionship of his comrades in a common danger and the fury and
tumult of battle are also very animating. But in the last resort the
soldier must rely upon his own innate qualities, both mental and
physical. For bravery lies in the blood, and courage in the mind, and
valour is the combination of the often thoughtless fire and dash of
the one, and the calculated enterprise and determination of the other.
Bearing these considerations always in mind, let us never cast the
contumelious stone, or say a bitter word, against any regiment, or
party of men, who in war are overborne by the black terror of
apprehension suddenly arising; but rather let us ever give the greater
honour and glory to those rare beings, those supermen, who without a
thought of self, dash into the fiery blast to save a stricken comrade,
or who strike a ringing blow for their cause under the jaws of horrid
death, whose hands are stretched out to clutch them.
In the light of these general reflections on human nature let us
consider first the achievement of Drummer William Kenny, who, though
serving in the 2nd Battalion of the Gordon Highlanders, is a Drogheda
man. Near Ypres, on October 23rd, 1914, he exposed himself to heavy
fire on five separate occasions, in order to rescue wounded men. Twice
previously he saved machine-guns by carrying them out of action. "Also
on numerous occasions," says the official record, "Drummer Kenny
conveyed urgent messages in very dangerous circumstances over
fire-swept ground." What makes Kenny's heroism very remarkable is that
it was not displayed in a single instance, by one act; but was, as we
see, repeated over and over again, and in a variety of ways.
He is a very modest as well as fearless man. I saw him at the Mansion
House, London, one day in March, 1915, when he was presented with a
gold watch by the Lord Mayor, on behalf of the Musicians' Company. The
first thing that caught my attention in his appearance was the mingled
kindliness and resolution expressed in his face. It was obvious, from
his shy manner, that he was greatly embarrassed, if not made quite
miserable, indeed, by being so much noticed, and would have rather
remained in the background. "Thank you all," was his simple
acknowledgment of the Company's expressions of admiration and regard.
He is also a reticent man. Not a word did he say to anyone about his
exploits until the announcement that he had been awarded the Victoria
Cross appeared in the newspapers. Even then, he declined to be
regarded as a hero. "It was just what anyone would do in the
circumstances," he said. "There are many others out there who have
done the same thing, only nobody knows it. You see some of your pals
lying out in the open under fire. You know it is they or you; so you
just go out and fetch them in." It was the same in regard to his
single-handed action in saving the machine-guns. "The Maxims had to
be fetched," he said; "and I did it. That's all." As a case of
unobtrusive and, indeed, unconscious heroism that of Drummer Kenny
would be hard to beat.
His native town of Drogheda has reason to be proud of Kenny, and it
showed its esteem in a splendid way. On St. Patrick's Day, 1915, the
Mayor and Corporation went to High Mass with Kenny, who was
accompanied by his mother and father; and afterwards, at a public
meeting in the square, attended by an enormous crowd, the noble fellow
was presented with a cheque for L120, and the freedom of the borough.
When he wrote his name on the roll of Drogheda's freemen, Kenny found
among the preceding signatures those of such famous historical
personages as the Duke of Ormond (1704); Henry Grattan (1782); Sir
Arthur Wellesley (1807); Isaac Butt (1877); Charles Stewart Parnell
(1881), and Sir Garnet Wolseley (1882).
The deeds of three other Irishmen who have won the Victoria Cross
were, like those of Kenny, deeds of mercy--the rescue of wounded
comrades. For a full appreciation of them it is necessary to
understand the awful plight of the soldiers who are stricken down on
the unsheltered open ground between the opposing trenches. When the
engagement in which the men fell is over this space is swept, on the
slightest movement, by volleys from rifles and machine-guns. It is
often impossible, therefore, to bring timely help to the wounded. At
night only, in the sheltering darkness, some of the least disabled
wounded may be able to crawl back to their trenches. Otherwise they
have to lie out there in the open while life ebbs away to the most
bitter torments. That is, unless there are at hand men moved by the
unselfish and tender emotion of pity, men susceptible to suffering,
men of refined and imaginative minds; and therefore able to project
themselves by the power of thought into the cruel situation of their
tortured and helpless mates, and feel to the full all the horror of
it; and men, too, whose high ideal of duty and right conduct impel
them irresistibly to go out to succour, even at the risk of meeting
the same terrible fate themselves. Of such noble men are Drummer
Kenny, and also Lance-Corporal Joseph Toombs, 1st Battalion King's
Liverpool Regiment, who comes from Warrenpoint, Co. Down; Private
Robert Morrow, 1st Royal Irish Fusiliers, a native of Co. Tyrone, and
Private John Caffrey, 2nd York and Lancaster Regiment, who was born at
Birr, King's County, and has his home in Nottingham.
The official account of the achievements for which Toombs was awarded
the Victoria Cross is as follows:--
"For most conspicuous gallantry near Rue du Bois on June 16th,
1915. On his own initiative he crawled out repeatedly under a
very heavy shell and machine gun fire to bring in wounded men
who were lying about one hundred yards in front of our trenches.
He rescued four men, one of whom he dragged back by means of a
rifle sling placed round his own neck and the man's body. This
man was so severely wounded that unless he had been immediately
attended to he must have died."
Morrow got the V.C. "for most conspicuous bravery near Messines, on
April 12th, 1915, when he rescued and carried successfully to places
of comparative safety several men who had been buried under the debris
of trenches wrecked by shell fire. Private Morrow carried out this
gallant work on his own initiative and under very heavy fire from the
enemy." I am able to supplement this official record by a statement
made by one of the men who was saved by Morrow: "The enemy opened fire
unexpectedly. A shell fell in the trench, burying over a dozen men, of
whom I was one, in the wreckage. Those who were able ran to shelter,
for that shell was followed by many more; and the trench having been
laid bare, the enemy opened a hot rifle and machine-gun fire upon it.
At the same time the enemy was making an attack in force. Accordingly
it was a risky thing to be there. Morrow didn't mind. He came up to
where we were pinned under the remains of the parapet and a dug-out.
He dragged me out and carried me on his back to a place of safety.
Then he went back to look for others. He made the journey six times,
bringing all the men that were alive. It was slow, laborious work, and
all the time Morrow was under heavy fire from the Germans."
On the same day that the notice of Private Morrow's distinction was
published, his death was announced in the list of casualties. He was
killed on April 25th, 1915, at St. Julien, while in the act of again
succouring the wounded. His widowed mother, at Newmills, Dungannon,
received the Victoria Cross that was awarded to her gallant boy with
an autograph letter of sympathy from the King.
Private John Caffrey got the Victoria Cross for a gallant display of
bravery and humanity near La Brique on November 16th, 1915. A man of
the West Yorkshire Regiment had been badly wounded, and was lying in
the open, unable to move, in full view of, and about 300 to 400 yards
from, the enemy's trenches. Corporal Stirk, Royal Army Medical Corps,
and Caffrey at once started out to rescue him, but at the first
attempt they were driven back by shrapnel fire. Soon afterwards they
started again, under close sniping and machine-gun fire, and succeeded
in reaching and bandaging the wounded man, but, just as Corporal Stirk
had lifted him on Private Caffrey's back, he himself was shot in the
head. Caffrey put down the wounded man, bandaged Corporal Stirk, and
helped him back into safety. He then returned and brought in the man
of the West Yorkshire Regiment. "He had made three journeys across
the open, under close and accurate fire," says the official record,
"and had risked his own life to save others with the utmost coolness
and bravery."
No more moving story of the devotion of a private to an officer, to
whom he was regimentally attached, is to be found than that enshrined
in the record of the deed for which the Victoria Cross was given to
Private Thomas Kenny, 13th (Service) Battalion Durham Light Infantry,
part of "Kitchener's Army." Kenny, aged thirty-three, was living with
his wife and seven children, and following the occupation of a
quarry-man, at Hart Bushes, a hamlet two miles outside Wingate, County
Durham, when on the outbreak of war he joined the Army. His battalion
was sent to the front on August 25th, 1915. On the night of November
4th, 1915, Kenny won the Victoria Cross near La Houssoie, for
conspicuous bravery and devotion to Lieutenant Brown of his battalion.
The deed is finely described in a letter written by Major C.E. Walker,
of the 13th Durham Light Infantry:--
"I just want to write to you to tell you how proud we all are of
your husband, Pte. T. Kenny, for the magnificent pluck and
endurance he showed under very heavy fire when Lieut. P.A. Brown
was wounded. Your husband was what we call 'observer' to Lieut.
Brown--that is to say, he acted as a sort of shadow to his
officer, who never moved anywhere without him. The Lieutenant
went out in front of our trenches in a thick fog to superintend
a party of our men mending our barbed wire, Kenny, as usual,
accompanying him. They over-ran our wire and lost their bearings
in the fog. Finding that they were on unfamiliar ground they sat
down to listen for sounds to guide them. After a while they
decided to go back. As soon as they rose a rifle was fired from
a listening post about 15 yards away. (They were only about 30
yards from the enemy trenches, and a listening post runs out
from their front line.) Lieut. Brown fell, shot through both
thighs. Kenny at once went to his assistance, and although
Lieut. Brown was a good-sized man, got him slung on to his back
and started off with him.
"The Germans in the listening post--there are generally four to
six there--opened rapid fire at him. He therefore dropped to his
hands and knees and began crawling, with the officer still on
his back. Lieut. Brown was hit about 9.45. Kenny carried him in
this manner, under heavy fire from the enemy every time they
heard him, for over an hour in spite of the wet, clinging nature
of the ground. At last he came to a ditch he recognised, and
being utterly exhausted, he made the Lieutenant as comfortable
as he could and then started off for our lines for help. He
found an officer and a few men of his battalion at a listening
post, and having guided them back to where he had left his
officer, Lieutenant Brown was brought in still living, but died
at the dressing station. His last words were, 'Kenny--you're a
hero!' The General is delighted with the pluck, endurance, and
devotion shown by your husband, and has recommended him for the
Victoria Cross. Kenny is a splendid fellow, and you may well be
proud of him."
Lieutenant Brown's mother wrote from Beckenham, Kent, to Kenny,
expressing her deep gratitude for his services to her son: "I am
thankful to feel that he died among friends and that he was able to
thank you," she says. "I know you will value his last words. He had
often mentioned you to me in his letters home, and talked of 'my
observer Kenny, a very nice Irishman from Co. Durham, who goes with me
everywhere.' His life had been a very different one before this
dreadful war, but he gave up everything for pure patriotism."
These are rare, fine, and noble actions. They are not necessarily
actions which only a true soldier could accomplish. They are the
outcome of fortitude, that spirit which supports a man to go through
with a tremendous task, involving pain of body and trouble of mind,
but a task from which his sense of duty will not permit him to turn
aside; and fortitude is a quality found not uncommonly in the ordinary
daily round of civil life as well as on the battlefield. The other
awards of the Victoria Cross to Irishmen were made for deeds of quite
a different character; real soldierly deeds, bold, dashing, and
intrepid; deeds, if not of reckless bravery, certainly of bravery
reckless of life for the attainment of the purpose in view. In a word,
they are deeds more representative of the traditional fiery
fearlessness of Celtic valour.
There is the case of Private Edward Dwyer, of the East Surrey
Regiment, who was born at Fulham, London, of Irish parents, his father
being a Galway man and his mother a native of Omeath. I saw him one
sunny day in July, 1915, coming down the Strand at the head of a
recruiting procession, and his appearance gave me at first a shock of
surprise. I do not know why it should be so, but it is the fact that
we usually associate intrepidity and resolution with men of powerful
physique and demeanour that suggests fearlessness. Perhaps the
illusion has taken its rise from misty recollections of the heroes of
the fiction-reading of our youth. That illusion has been dispelled,
for me, at least, by those V.C.-men of the war whom I have seen, and I
have seen several of them. In all of them, without exception, I should
say it was the mind that told and not so much the body. Dwyer looked
quite a boy, and one of small stature, too, as he walked that day
between two burly sergeants, to whose shoulders his head just about
reached. But I could see the Victoria Cross of dark bronze and its red
ribbon on the left breast of his khaki tunic. His hearty laughter and
smiles told of his pride and joy in the demonstration, of which he was
the central figure--silk-hatted men baring their heads to him; women,
young and old, pressing forward to kiss him; and the air filled with
shoutings and the blare of brass instruments. Then, from the plinth of
the Nelson Monument in Trafalgar Square, standing between two of
Landseer's great lions, he made a sprightly recruiting speech. "I
promise you this," said he, "a drink and a cigar for the first ten
recruits to come up here. Age is nothing. I was only sixteen when I
joined. I think the recruiting-sergeant must have been a little
short-sighted on purpose, because he enlisted me without any trouble.
Out at the Front there are men who are grey-headed. Doesn't it shame
you?" he cried, turning sharply to the young men in the crowd.
What was it that was done by this youngest of the V.C.'s this
stripling of eighteen who, before he enlisted, was a messenger-boy to
a greengrocer? He displayed "most conspicuous bravery and devotion to
duty" at Hill 60 on April 20th, 1915; and he did so in a very singular
way. "When his trench was heavily attacked by German grenade
throwers," says the official record, "he climbed on to the parapet,
and although subjected to a hail of bombs at close quarters, succeeded
in dispersing the enemy by the effective use of his hand grenades."
Those vague, general terms do not enable us to see the episode. It
discloses itself vividly in the terse sentences of Dwyer himself:--
"All our chaps were either killed or wounded. I was the only
unwounded man left in the trench. The Germans were in a trench
only fifteen yards away, so close that I could hear them talking
in their lingo. I knew that if they took the trench I was in it
would be a bad job for our trenches behind. So I collected all
the hand grenades left in our trench until I had about a hundred
in all. There were three steps leading up to the parapet of the
trench. For a while I sat crouched on the middle step. Then I
found myself on the parapet hurling grenades at the Germans.
Shells and hand bombs were bursting all over and around me, but
nothing touched me at all. I kept on throwing until help came
and the trench was safe. I was pretty well done up when I jumped
down into the trench, mad with joy and without a scratch. The
relieving party chaffed me a lot, and called me 'The King of the
Hand Grenades.'"
Dwyer gives an interesting account of his sensations in battle. As a
rule, introspection in such circumstances is almost impossible, for
the mind, when concentrated solely on the existing situation and
strained with excitement almost to the cracking point, cannot well
observe itself; but Dwyer is made of uncommon stuff mentally as well
as physically. "Fear is a funny thing," he says. "It gets at you in
all kinds of curious ways. When we've been skirmishing in open order
under heavy fire I've felt myself go numb. Then the blood has rushed
into my face--head and ears become as hot as fire, and the tip of my
tongue swollen into a blob of blood. It isn't nice, I can tell you;
but the feeling passes and one's nerves become steadier." He added
what showed his real mettle: "I've never expected to get out of any
fight I've ever been in. And so I just try to do my bit, and leave it
at that." Dwyer made a most successful recruiter for the Irish
regiments, in which, on account of his nationality, he specially
interested himself.
Turning now for a while from the Irish privates to the Irish
regimental officers who have won the V.C., we find the same pluck,
endurance, and devotion to duty displayed. Second Lieutenant George
Arthur Boyd-Rochfort, of the 1st Battalion Scots Guards, is a type of
the Irish gentry who have contributed to the British Army so
remarkably large a number of gallant regimental officers and
distinguished commanders, from the Duke of Wellington to Viscount
French of Ypres. He had done no soldiering before the present war. The
eldest son of the late Major R.H. Boyd-Rochfort, of the 15th Hussars,
he succeeded to the family property at Middleton Park, Westmeath. Aged
thirty-five, and the head of his family, all his interests centred in
the work of the estate. Yet when the war broke out Mr. Boyd-Rochfort
felt it his duty to join the Army, so that he might serve his country
along with his younger brothers--Captain H. Boyd-Rochfort, of the
21st Lancers (now Brigade-Major of the 21st Cavalry Brigade), and
Lieutenant Cecil Boyd-Rochfort, of the Scots Guards. To qualify
himself physically for a commission in the Scots Guards he had to
undergo two operations, which confined him to hospital for close on
five months. He got his commission in April, 1915, went to the Front
in June, and won the Victoria Cross on August 3rd, in the trenches
between Cambria and La Bassee.
Lieutenant Boyd-Rochfort was afterwards wounded in a single-handed
fight with two Germans--he knocked one down with the butt-end of his
empty revolver and the other with his fist--and was invalided home,
when the whole countryside turned out to do him honour. He gave the
following account of his exploit:--
"It was at break of day, just before we were ordered to 'stand
to,' we were working in the first line of trenches, and a trench
that was nothing more than a graveyard. The first German trench
was no more than fifty yards away, and their mortars and rifle
grenades were simply spilling into us. Our trench was getting
badly knocked about by the flying missiles. You must distinguish
between these mortars and shells, because the mortars have a
time fuse which explodes them without striking. I was just
raising my head over the front of the trench, and, hearing the
whiz, I said to my men, 'Look out.' Down they went. The bomb
landed, and started to roll down from the top of the trench. I
dashed forward and seized it, and threw it over the top of
trench. Scarcely had it left my hand and reached the outside of
the trench than it exploded with a terrific report. We were all
buried under falling earth, but fortunately no one was hurt,
although my cap was blown to pieces. My men were very
appreciative of my action, and cheered and thanked me.
Afterwards they wrote and signed a statement of what I had done,
which they handed to the Colonel."
Another gallant Meath man was the late Lieutenant Maurice James Dease,
4th Batt. Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment), who fell during
the retreat from Mons, and was the first officer to gain the Victoria
Cross in the great war. He was the only son of Mr. Edmund F. Dease,
Culmullen, Drumree, Meath, and heir-presumptive to his uncle, Major
Gerald Dease, of Turbotston, Westmeath. He was born September 28th,
1889, and was educated at Stonyhurst and at the Army Class, Wimbledon
College. He entered the Royal Military College, Sandhurst, and was
gazetted Second Lieutenant in the Royal Fusiliers in February, 1910,
becoming Lieutenant in 1912. In the same year he was appointed
machine-gun officer to his regiment, and it was whilst in command of
this section at Nimy, near Mons, on August 23rd, 1914, that Lieutenant
Dease was killed and awarded the Victoria Cross. The official record
is as follows:--
"During the action the machine-guns were protecting the crossing
over a canal bridge, and Lieutenant Dease was several times
severely wounded, but refused to leave the guns. He remained at
his post until all the men of his detachment were either killed
or wounded and the guns put out of action by the enemy's fire."
From the South of Ireland came the late Captain Gerald Robert
O'Sullivan, 1st Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, who won the V.C. in
Gallipoli. A son of the late Lieutenant-Colonel George Ledwill
O'Sullivan, 91st Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, and of Mrs.
O'Sullivan, of Rowan House, Dorchester, he was born at Frankfield,
near Douglas, county Cork, and spent most of his boyhood in Dublin. He
passed into Sandhurst in 1907, and was gazetted to the Inniskillings
on May 15th, 1909. Captain O'Sullivan was awarded the V.C. for
conspicuous gallantry on two occasions, the official record of his
deeds being as follows:--
"For most conspicuous bravery during the operations south-west
of Krithia, on the Gallipoli Peninsula. On the night of July
1st-2nd, 1915, when it was essential that portion of a trench
which had been lost should be regained. Captain O'Sullivan,
although not belonging to the troops at this point, volunteered
to lead a party of bomb-throwers to effect the recapture. He
advanced in the open under very heavy fire, and in order to
throw his bombs with greater effect got up on the parapet, where
he was completely exposed to the fire of the enemy occupying the
trench. He was finally wounded, but not before his inspiring
example had led on his party to make further efforts, which
resulted in the capture of the trench. On the night of June
18th-19th, 1915, Captain O'Sullivan saved a critical situation
in the same locality by his great personal gallantry and good
leading."
This gallant officer is believed to have been killed during the attack
on Hill 70, or Burnt Hill, at Suvla Bay, on August 21st, 1915. He
advanced at the head of his men to the second line of Turkish
trenches, where he fell. The body was not recovered.
From the North of Ireland came the late Captain Anketell Moutray-Read,
of the 1st Northamptonshire Regiment, who was killed on the night of
September 24-25th, 1915, at the Battle of Loos, and was posthumously
awarded the Victoria Cross. He was the youngest son of the late
Colonel John Moutray-Read, of Aghnacloy, County Tyrone, and one of his
ancestors was High Sheriff of the county as far back as 1721. Owing to
casualties in the Northamptons Captain Moutray-Read was in temporary
command of the battalion when he fell. The official record of the
award of the Victoria Cross is as follows:--
"For most conspicuous bravery during the first attack near
Hulluch on the morning of September 25th, 1915. Although
partially gassed, Captain Read went out several times in order
to rally parties of different units which were disorganised and
retiring. He led them back into the firing line, and, utterly
regardless of danger, moved freely about encouraging them under
a withering fire. He was mortally wounded while carrying out
this gallant work. Captain Read had previously shown conspicuous
bravery during digging operations on August 29th, 30th, and
31st, 1915, and on the night of July 29th-30th he carried out
of action an officer, who was mortally wounded, under a hot fire
from rifles and grenades."
In all the theatres of war representatives of that famous fighting
stock, the Irish gentry, are to be found defending the British Empire
by maintaining the martial reputation of their race. At Shariba,
Mesopotamia, the late Major George Godfrey Massy Wheeler, 7th Hariana
Lancers, Indian Army, won the Victoria Cross for "most conspicuous
bravery." He was a descendant of General Sir Hugh Massy Wheeler, whose
son, John George Wheeler, was married to a Miss Massy, of Kingswell
House, Tipperary. "On April 12th, 1915," says the official record,
"Major Wheeler asked permission to take out his squadron and attempt
to capture a flag which was the centre point of a group of the enemy
who were firing on one of our pickets. He advanced and attacked the
enemy's infantry with the lance, doing considerable execution amongst
them. He then retired while the enemy swarmed out of hidden ground and
formed an excellent target to our Royal Horse Artillery guns. On April
13th, 1915, Major Wheeler led his squadron to the attack of the 'North
Mound.' He was seen far ahead of his men, riding single-handed
straight for the enemy's standards. This gallant officer was killed on
the mound."
In another far-distant and remote field of operations, the German
protectorate of the Cameroons, West Africa, a scion of the same stock
of Irish gentry likewise achieves glory, leading blacks against blacks
led by Germans. There the hero is Captain John Fitzharding Paul
Butler, of the famous Butlers of Ormond, Tipperary, attached to the
Pioneer Company, Gold Coast Regiment, West African Frontier Force. "On
November 17th, 1914," says the record, "with a party of thirteen men,
he went into the thick brush and attacked the enemy, in strength
about one hundred, including several Europeans, defeated them and
captured their machine-guns, and many loads of ammunition. On December
27th, 1914, when on patrol duty with a few men, he swam the Ekan
River, which was held by the enemy, completed his reconnaissance on
the further bank, and returned in safety. Two of his men were wounded
while he was actually in the water." Bald as the story is, thus
officially told, it kindles the imagination, and we can picture the
wild and hazardous life led by this adventurous Irishman in that
mysterious land of mountain and forest.
The Brookes of Colebrooke have been settled in Fermanagh since the
time of Queen Elizabeth. If you look through Burke's "Peerage and
Baronetage" you will see that in every generation the family have
given sons to the Army and Navy. Lieutenant J.A.O. Brooke (grandson of
the late Sir Arthur Brinsley Brooke of Colebrooke, baronet), 2nd
Gordon Highlanders, has crowned the martial reputation of the family
by winning the Victoria Cross. Near Gheluvelt, on October 29th, 1914,
he led two attacks on the German trenches under heavy rifle and
machine-gun fire, and regained a lost trench at a very critical time.
He was killed at the moment of success. "By his marked coolness and
promptitude on this occasion," says the official record, "Lieutenant
Brooke prevented the enemy from breaking through our line at a time
when a general counter-attack could not have been organised." Two
Victoria Crosses have thus been won for the Gordon Highlanders by
Irishmen--Drummer Kenny and Lieutenant Brooke.