The First of July – A reflection in 1953

by H. Malcolm M‘Kee, M.C.

THE approach of Ulster's greatest day carries my mind back thirty-seven years. And I think of the men of West Belfast who formed the 9th Royal Irish Rifles. They were nearly all shipyard workers of Harland and Wolff who had left splendid wages to accept one shilling per day.

They felt it was their duty and, without a second thought, they did their duty.

Ireland was then all one. But there was danger, and the Ulster Volunteer Force had been formed, to resist force from the South. Yet when war broke out the 36th Division was formed almost completely from U.V.F. Except the Artillery.

Till the “Princess Victoria” disaster Maynard Sinclair and I were the only surviving Northern Ireland officers who went over the top in the advance on 1st July, 1916. (Or so I thought till I heard that Mr. McAuley was with us. But he was a reinforcement officer, and I had never met him.) It is wonderful how distance lends enchantment to the view. I am sometimes reminded of the film “I Spy a Dark Stranger.” In it a character says the G.P.O. in Dublin wouldn’t hold those who say they were in it on Easter Monday, 1916. And it is a large building.

The reason is that thirty per cent of officers were left behind on 1st July to replace casualties. It was anticipated that there would be heavy casualties, and there were, but if new men had come along, the old officers could have carried on. But Ulstermen, did not come, and the 36th Division, after being filled up with Englishmen, etc., finally dwindled to nothing.

But that does not detract from the glory of the 1st July. Every military critic was amazed at the steadiness and discipline of the Division, and not one other Division got so much praise.

But, as a Division from Ulster, it ended on 1st July. For example, only seventy survived out of seven hundred of the 9th Royal Irish Rifles.

As Brigadier-General F. P. Crozier, who commanded the Battalion, wrote . . . . “War is a contradiction. The fighters seldom come out best, save in this, they keep their souls intact. And that is a possession no man can take from them.

The net result of the barren, glorious bloody battle of Thiepval is that over seven hundred men of the West Belfast Battalion of the Royal Irish Rifles proved their ability to subordinate matter to mind. Intellectual discipline had triumphed.

The acid test of killing and being killed had been passed by us with credit. What remained? The memories, the confidence and seventy men to carry on the torch.”

60,000 Casualties

The Battle of the Somme was barren in one sense, for no ground was gained there, and sixty thousand casualties taken on 1st July. Three hundred and sixty were taken in the whole Battle of the Somme. And no ground was taken. But the pressure on Verdun was relieved, and the Channel Ports saved. Everybody knows what happened in the recent war when the Channel Ports were lost. The French were conquered, and we had to wait for years for the Second Front.

It is rather strange the similarity in the figures. 360,000 casualties were suffered in the Battle of the Somme. 337,000 were evacuated from Dunkirk. It took 360,000 casualties to save the Ports, and France.

As Crozier writes in another book . . . “When I marched up through Thiepval Wood into action that July morn, at the head of the pick of Belfast, to the accompaniment of the deafening din of battle, I felt
   ‘Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife,
       To all the sensual world proclaim.
    One crowded hour of glorious life
       Is worth an age without a name!’

“Literally my blood boiled and saw red. The day — yea, even the hour — had arrived and I thanked my God for permitting me to share in its glories.”

That, of course, is all very well. But Crozier had been ordered not to go over at all. He did go over, for a few yards, and for a few minutes. Then he retired into a forty-foot deep dug-out where, no doubt, his blood continued to boil. Those of us who had to remain in no-man’s land felt that an age without a name was the very thing the doctor ordered. No-man’s land was far too crowded for comfort . . . with shells, machine-gun bullets, and, later, with Germans with bombs and bayonets.

Long Range War

But that sort of personal war is a thing of the past. Modern war is fought at long range. When combatants get near each other, one surrenders.

The casualties are nothing like so high. In the First War those killed in our Army alone were three times the total death in all three Services in the recent war. It was, in fact, quite a war.

In the whole of the Boer War there were 5,774 killed and 22,829 wounded. Total, 28,503. As I have said, the casualties on the first day of the Somme were over 60,000. Almost 20,000 killed.

Under 6,000 were filled in the Boer War. In the first war 1,069,825 were killed. Of these 912,451 were killed in the Army.

So war, in spite of tanks, aircraft and bombs, is getting safer. But when atom bombs are used, all the fun will depart from war. And civilians will join in whatever fun there is.

The only way to prevent war is to be strong. We are not strong. Our solitary battleship is Vanguard. Our aircraft are in plastic as there are no skilled ground-crews to look after them. Our Army hardly exists on an international scale.

I really cannot see much good in spending millions on academic education and Health Services and neglecting to prepare against annihilation.

I really cannot see much good in spending millions on academic education and Health Services and neglecting to prepare against annihilation. But any politician who uttered such a sentiment would be thrown out immediately. For people have not learned from two terrible wars that you cannot have guns and butter. Our weakness caused both wars. We got through both, but instead of having a navy twice as big as the next biggest, we are third, and America and Russia both have larger navies than ours. We are not exactly a third-rate power, but we are third.

We are nowhere as regards army and air force, and have few skilled men.

Free drugs may keep us fit, though I doubt it. But fit, may I ask, for what?

These are sad reflections on the eve of the 37th anniversary of the greatest battle the world has ever seen. When so many died in the war to end war.

The Americans did not win the First War, but they won the Second. Without America we could not even do anything except surrender in the Third.

It is our fault our fellows died in vain.



The above article was published in the County Down Spectator of Saturday, 27th June 1953.

The Young Citizens in the Trenches

"Mud, Sweet Mud."

In a letter home a private in the 14th (Service) Battalion Royal Irish Rifles gives the following graphic description of life in the trenches:—

It is a long time since I started to write a letter under such extraordinary conditions, and I don't know when it will reach you, or how it will look when it arrives. I am writing it from a dug-out in the reserve line, with a sandbag full of mud for a writing desk, with mud as my inspiration, and mud-caked hands directing a muddy pencil. We came up here a couple of days ago, and I have not had a moment for writing; indeed, in the last seventy-two hours I have I only managed to get about nine hours' sleep, but what men have done men can do. The trenches are in a desperate state of mud slime and water in consequence of the recent snows, thaws, and rain, in many places reaching up to the waist. And so we have to wear trench boots, which cover the whole leg, though, unfortunately, a great number of them are not watertight. The front line trench is much worse still, and our progress thither on a working party at night was most exciting.

We walked in single file, the leading man passing back word as regards boards, sump holes, stones, and other obstacles and so a running fire of conversation was kept up which must have been, and, indeed, often was, very amusing. A sample — "Keep to centre of board," "Hole in centre," "Mind rocks," "Sump hole on right," "Up a little," "Two steps down," "Very slippery here," "Mind the mud," "Keep out of the water," &c. I myself found it a much safer way to sample the information passed down, and so when I received word of a sump hole, I generally succeeded in falling into it, to the edification of those behind. Once so deep was the river of muddy water it reached right above the boot, and washed the contents of my trouser pocket. However, the best part, from a spectacular point of view, was the thick sticky mud, about two and a half to three feet deep. You put one leg in, then heaved and shoved, and got the other one out, and so progressed. If there was a slight halt assistance in the shape of a spade had to be called upon. One poor fellow stuck altogether, and so stopped all those behind him, a circumstance which brought quite a number of suggestions, such as ropes, more spades, fatigue parties, &c. Another fellow had to leave his boots stuck in the mud, and mount the parapet in stocking soles while we dug out his boots for him.

Into the Wilderness.

Our journey that night took us over three hours, and as we hod only five hours altogether for working, and going there and back, the work done was the minimum. The further we went the deeper the mud become, and really the sight of it inspired me with a great longing to make mud pies. There was thick stuff suitable for cakes, slightly thinner resembling soda bread dough; then, of course the beautiful "batter" mud, and the more universal pancake species; and then, lastly, the liquid mud, mainly water. But, really, I believe I could write a book on the subject of mud, its advantages and disadvantages, its effect on warfare, its effects on foods; or we could advertise it as mud the great substitute for butter, dripping, jam, cheese, and soup. I am sure you will think this lengthy dissertation on mud very inconsistent with my principles; but, after all, "local colour" is the thing in description. Our dug-out rather baffles description, as it resembles a tunnel, a sewer pipe, and a large flue. The roof is convex, and is made of castiron, like the inside of the funnel of a large steamship. The floor is of mud, to which every entrant contributes something. It is reached by a narrow trench of the first species of mud, with a kind of watershoot at the end, with three steps down to the dug-out level. Here we eat, drink, sleep, reed, write, and talk.

The trenches about here are all called by well-known names, and there are Pompadour, Essex Street, Broadway, The White City, The Crater, and numerous others, intended, I suppose, to make the trenches a home from home. Oh, the irony! Home, sweet home, and mud, sweet mud! However, we manage to enjoy ourselves fairly well, though at times certainly the language is by no means patriotic and parliamentary. When one is sent on four separate occasions for a two-hour walk through mud to clear two feet of water from a trench by means of shovels, one thinks and says volumes about the intelligence of one's superiors, but generally humour takes over the situation and we enjoy it.

During the day we see and hear several shells bursting, and the rattle of the machine guns in now like music in our ears. On sentry go this morning at stand-to, when the rival forces were venting their spite in shells and bullets, a couple of larks began to sing their beautiful morning song as they rose higher and higher towards the heaven, seemingly oblivious of the deafening clashes on all sides. To them it mattered not that men were set on one another's destruction, and that they were wasting money and material in their diabolical instruments, and their very indifference did not pay a high compliment to the super-intelligence of man.

A Dinner — And a Good One Too.

I have just had dinner, and a really good one too, with plenty of vegetables in it, one of the best I have had since I joined. There's nothing bucks you up like your grub. After a very restless night usually we make use of our privilege of grousing, and you bet we are some grousers once we start, but the arrival of breakfast always brightens everybody up, and we think how much worse we might be if had no dug-out to go to, no brazier to warm our feet, and a hot part of the line. The real danger here is the state of the trench, for when one stands for hours up to the knees in water, without being able to move either way, "nuff said." One fellow in the firing line in another company had to do twenty-one hours duty on end, and collapsed completely, while another fellow fell into the mud, rifle and all, and had to be carried away suffering from sleeping sickness. Perhaps the "Chocolate Soldiers," as we are called, have shown themselves now to be more than mere parade swanks, and to be able to do their bit as well as any other battalion in the division.



From The Witness, 24th March 1916.

The Young Citizens at the Front

Writing home to his mother, a private of the 14th (Service) Battalion Royal Irish Rifles (Y.C.V.) says –

"I am afraid I must have given you a desperate picture of our march and of my condition, but I must have been in rotten form when I wrote it, so that will account for it. I am by no means a 'poor old son,' I am rather a fortunate one, as I am neither dead, wounded, gassed, sick, bereaved, or indeed in any unfortunate circumstances. 'Tis true, today was one of the roughest days we have yet had. To begin with, we changed billets again, and shifted some kilometres further up the line. We found ourselves in a clean, large barn, very cold and draughty, but with plenty of room. When the lights had been put out we heard the other occupants of the barn, and judging from the sounds they far outnumbered our platoon. I had left a couple of biscuits on the ledge above our bed and I heard these crackling, and so I flung my cap at them, but only I succeeded in crumbling some biscuit over my bed. Then at another corner the fellows were having quite a dispute with some rats as to the right of possession, and by the light of a flash-lamp we saw several huge brown rats darting for their holes. When they had sought temporary refuge in their holes they ostrich-like, thought they, unseeing, were unseen, with the result that one of the animals lost his tail. After this casualty they paid another visit to our bed, and in their struggles for eatables one of them dropped on my partner's head. With a yell he jumped up and looked for a light to see if the intruder was still there, but in the words of the psalm, "He passed, yea, was not, him I sought, but found he could not be." This rather unnerved my bed-mate, who said he would face a German a dozen times rather than a rat, and his slumbers were very disturbed that night. Fortunately, I seem to be of a rather indifferent disposition, and so I simply put a blanket well up over my head, and the region of activity and consciousness knew me no more.

"This morning it was bitterly cold, and we had to get up at 6 a.m. to proceed to our navvying again. It was ugh-h-h-h when we got up, and the ground outside was like glass. We had a march of about four kilos, to our job, and the snow began before we got there. We started work, but in the increasing storm of snow very little work was done, more especially as the breakfast we had before leaving was a misnomer. The tea had evidently been made from the drippings of a sewer, and its taste amply justified this opinion formed from its smell. A piece of bread and marmalade completed the regal repast, which was to last us till 2 p.m. However, a visit to the canteen made up in some degree for this breakfast, and three cups of tea, two pieces of cake, three packets of biscuits, and some chocolate filled up a few of the gaps in my anatomy. By this time the snow had turned into a regular blizzard, and all work was suspended, so we had to march back again. The march back in the teeth of the blizzard was desperate, and several fellows were bleeding in various parts of their face ere we sighted our village. The snow froze on our eyebrows and hair, and our very breath froze on the capes, so it was quite a unique crowd which landed in the village. We carried between us several bags of coal collected where we had been working, the whole way back. When we reached our billets we found that blankets, rucksacks, and all our belongings were covered with some inches of snow, which had come in through the various holes in the roof and walls.

"It was a crude homecoming, but flitting being simplicity itself in the Army we simply moved our billets, and are now in canvas huts, which are at least rain and snow proof, and which are at any rate no colder than the barn billets. We expect to be in the trenches early next week, so I hope the weather will change and be a little more reasonable, or there will be cases galore of trench foot and frost-bitten feet. However, what man hath done man can do, so we hope to do our best to keep up the reputation of the division and of the battalion to which we belong."



From The Witness, 10th March 1916.
Image: A self portrait of Lance Corporal George Hackney colourised by John McCormick.

Ulster at the Somme - 1st and 2nd Battalions Royal Irish Rifles

Simultaneously with the attack on Thiepval Ridge by the Ulster Division and the 32nd. Division on the 1st July, the extreme southern end of the ridge was attacked by the 8th. Division who formed part of the 3rd. Corps. In the 25th. Brigade of the 8th. Division was the 1st. Bn. The Royal Irish Rifles. The battalion was in the line directly opposite the strongly fortified village of Ovilliers just a few hundred yards north of the main Albert-Bapaume Road or what was left of it. The objective of the 25th. Brigade was the village of Pozieres, two kilometres further along the Albert-Bapaume Road -- a rather ambitious project. The battalion was to advance in support of the other battalions in the Brigade. The leading battalions having taken Ovilliers -- 1 RIR was to move forward and consolidate with the leading battalions, it was then to make the assault an Pozieres itself.
As mentioned in the story of the Ulster Division's attack on the Thiepval Ridge, a tremendous bombardment preceded the attack. At zero. 7.30 a.m. the Brigade advanced forward to the attack on the German Front Line. They were met with a veritable avalanche of machine-gun and mortar fire. Few men of the leading battalions ever reached the enemy wire, which had not been thoroughly cut by the British bombardment and presented a difficult problem for the leading sections. The few sections who did enter the enemy front line held on grimly against a fierce fusillade of fire from the enemy until the arrival of the 1st. Rifles who were advancing to their support. The Rifles advance was met with similar shattering fire from a mass of strong points covering the German positions which had been entered and were being assaulted by the supporting Rifle Bn. The village of La Boiselle on their right flank had not been captured and from this point the enemy poured a hurricane of machine-gun and mortar fire into the ranks of the attacking riflemen and only a mere handful of men ever reached the German Front Line. These together with those of the leading battalions who were already in the enemy front trenches had to beat off continuous hostile bombing attacks from the enemy elements who had been sheltering in their deep cellars during our bombardment and now came out into the daylight to fire on our already severely mauled infantry. The company on the left, "A" Coy., overran the German Front Line and reached the second support trench and inflicted men losses on the enemy holding out there but alas due to their flanks not succeeding they were eventually forced to withdraw. Eventually all the British troops who had entered the enemy positions had to retire to their own front line, these represented only a mere fraction of those who went into the attack. As was the case on Thiepval Ridge, the flanks having failed any small breaches made were forced to fall back to secure their flanks. The Battalion lost its Commanding Officer, its Adjutant and six other Officers, twelve Officers were wounded and other ranks casualties amounted to 348, many of these were 'Missing' believed killed.

Every man had given of his beat, the men had gone into action with high hopes of victory and fought as though they expected it, but their task was an impossible one, they gained nothing but glory, Ovilliers was a very strongly fortified objective in common with other villages on this part of the front and was not to be entered again by British Troops until the end of September.

What remained of the battalion was taken out of the line that night and a couple of days later was ordered north to the rather more quiet area around Bethune.

However, its association with the Somme battlefield was not at an end. On October 14th the battalion entrained at Lillers for its second venture on the Somme. While the 2nd. Bn. was involved in the Battle of the Ancre Heights over the same ground attacked by the Ulster Divison on 1st July, the 1st. Battalion went into the attack with the 8th. Division between Morval and Les Boeufs. The objective of the 25th. Brigade was Zenith Trench and 300 yards further on a trench known as Misty Trench. The Bn. advanced in support of the 2nd. Lincolns and the 2nd. Rifle Brigade, although limited success was achieved the assault was a failure, in no small measure due to the severe casualties inflicted on the advancing troops of the Brigade by our own artillery and to the fierce stubborn resistance put up by the enemy holding on to what they considered a key position.

The battalion was now moved to Trones Wood where it remained in the line for two or three weeks and had to endure terrible privations due to the appalling conditions in the trenches, if they could be called trenches, the British Front Line consisted of a mass of water filled shell holes and craters, many of them containing half decomposed bodies which could not be properly buried in the circumstances prevailing. On top of all this the enemy kept up a continuous bombardment both day and night, in which gas was largely used and the battalion suffered severely. This was probably one of the worst periods of endurance the battalion had to suffer during the whole war, the long exposure to wet and cold without cover of any kind beggars description, the strain on the men was almost intolerable, but somehow the battalion came through but lost a great proportion of its strength by the time it was relieved for a few days respite. With the fall of Beaumont-Hamel and the capture of St. Pierre Divion and Grandcourt on the Ancre on 15th November and the following two days the Battle of the Somme came to an end on 18th November, 1916. At this time the 1st. Bn. Royal Irish Rifles were holding the line facing the village of Le Transloy on the main Bapaume/Perrone Road from which line the Germans were, a couple of months later, compelled to retire "according to plan" to the new Hindenburg Line.

2nd. Bn. The Royal Irish Rifles.

A few days after the 1st. Battalion was withdrawn from the line on the night of July 1st., the 2nd. Battalion came into action at practically the same spot facing the German Line between Ovilliers and La Boiselle. It formed part of the 74th. Brigade, 25th. Division in the newly formed 5th. Army (later to become famous) under General Sir Hubert Gough.

During the first few days of July further strong attacks were made on both Ovilliers and La Boiselle and although a foothold was gained in La Boiselle, the fortress of Ovilliers resisted all attempts at capture. By 5th July La Boiselle was completely in British hands and in an effort to exploit this advantage and outflank Ovilliers, the 47th. Brigade was put at the disposal of the 12th. Division. The Brigade was to attack towards the eastern side of the Ovilliers defences. The Rifles advanced in support of a battalion of the North Lancs and a battalion of Cheshires. The leading battalions advanced with great dash and by 9 a.m. the whole of the German front protecting the eastern defences of Ovilliers was in our hands except a gap of some 400 yards in front of the Cheshires. The 2nd. Rifles were now ordered to assault this gap, capture and consolidate it. During consolidation the men were amazed by what they found in the German dug-outs and the palatial underground dwellings with separate quarters for Officers, kitchens, telephone exchanges, elaborate first-aid quarters and well appointed bunks for the men up to the standard of any barrack room. Our army had never experienced anything approaching this.

During the night the 2nd. Bn. made bombing attacks and further progress was made into the hostile defensive system. During the following day the enemy made strong counter-attacks but all were beaten of with considerable loss to the enemy. This type of fighting continued for the next day and on this night the battalion was relieved having suffered some 200 casualties in the three days fighting.

Their rest in reserve lasted only two days before they were back in the line again, this time facing Ovilliers itself, the attack on this fortress village, which had resisted all attempts to reduce it, was to be made at dusk with all three brigades of the Division, each Brigade having not more than 300 yards frontage, a moat ambitious venture in the darkness. The attack was not a complete success, despite the large force employed. The advance was raked with machine-gun fire and casualties were heavy. As a consequence of heavy losses and disorganisation in the darkness the battalion was forced to withdraw with the other units in the brigade. On the right of the Rifles a battalion of the Warwickshires was cut off and the only way to relieve them was for the 2nd. Rifles to bomb its way up a trench which led to the surrounded Warwicks. Although the bombers fought desperately no progress was made, continued efforts were made next day but only slight gains were made. Eventually towards dusk on the second day a renewed attack was made with the help of a battalion of the Lancashire Fusiliers. The fighting was desperate and when it was seen that no progress could be made, suddenly there came the dramatic end, a white flag was hoisted by the enemy, orders were passed to our men to stand upon their guard, it might be a trick, but no! from all sides heads appeared and hands were raised to the accompaniment of "Kammerad"! The whole party had surrendered, Ovilliers had fallen, an expensive victory but nevertheless it put new life into our men. The Bosche had made a splendid defence, but now they seemed to be delighted to be taken prisoner and out of it all, and insisted in shaking hands with their captors. A great quantity of booty of all kinds was taken during the 'mopping-up' of the elaborate trench system which continued throughout the following day. Later that night the battalion was relieved and marched back to Beauval to rest.

After several days rest the battalion moved into the line again to engage trench warfare, it relieved another battalion of Ulstermen, 1st. Bn. Inniskilling Fusiliers of 29th. Division opposite the village of Beaumont-Hamel and the salient known as Mary Redan. This was the part of the line north of the River Ancre where the attack on 1st July had been a total failure and No-Man's-Land was still full of 29th. Division's dead. This was the pattern of trench warfare in which the battalion engaged for the next month or two moving in and out of the line at places well known to the Ulster Division, but now static, namely the Schwaben Redoubt, Thiepval Wood, St. Pierre Divion etc.

In the month of October the 2nd. Bn. took part in the Battle of the Ancre Heights which included the capture of many places which had been taken by the Ulster Division on 1st July but which had to be evacuated because no advance had been made on their flanks. The Bn. took part in the capture of Stuff Redoubt, Houquet Farm, Regina Trench, Courcellette and St. Pierre Divion. The casualties in these actions were comparatively light compared with earlier Somme actions, this was probably due to the fact that British troops were now in possession of many German fortified positions with their elaborately furnished underground cellars which afforded perfect cover against bombardment. It can be said with certainty that enemy losses were very considerably more than British losses in these final actions during the closing days of the Battle of the Somme.


To be continued...


The above text is taken from a typed manuscript which was written in 1966 and was signed with the initials W.A.S. If anyone knows who the original author was I would like to hear from you so that it can be properly attributed.

Soldiers Died in the Great War 1914-1919

Some time ago I was given several booklets entitled Soldiers Died in the Great War 1914-19.

Published in 80 parts by His Majesty's Stationery Office (HMSO) in 1921 on behalf of the War Office, with each part usually relating to a single regiment, Soldiers Died in the Great War 1914-19 covered "other ranks" including Privates, Lance Corporals, Corporals, Sergeants etc. and contained the details of almost 662,000 men.

It was one of two sets published on those who died during the Great War, the other being "Officers who died in the Great War" which gave the details of almost 42,000 oficers.

Details recorded include: Name; Place of Birth; Where Enlisted; Residence; Regimental Number; Rank; Cause, Place and Date of Death and in many cases Decorations awarded.

While these details are avavilable on some other sites I have decided to transcribe that for the Royal Irish Rilfes and hope to eventually record all those from the Irish Regiments on my web site Eddies Extracts.

I have made some amendments to the printed copy in relation to some spellings and to the layout by trying to present the place of birth in a way that might be more useful.

It should be noted that the details recorded in Soldiers Died in the Great War were not always correct. If you have any information that can correct the details given please contact me and I will gladly make a note against the entry.