Tag: World War I
1916 Rising Irish in World War I World War I
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The Royal Irish Regiment with the Irish Republic flag at the Parnell Monument, O'Connell Street (NMI Collection)
Irish Republic flag flying on the GPO, photograph taken from a Metropole Hotel window (NMI Collection)
Probably the most famous flag of the 1916 Rising is the Irish Republic flag, with its white and orange lettering on a green field background. It was flown from the roof of the GPO on the Princes Street corner, while the tricolour flew from the Henry Street side. The flag survived the destruction of O'Connell Street, and was taken as a war souvenir by the Royal Irish Regiment. It ended up in the collection of King George of England, and was stored in the Imperial War Museum until 1966 when it was presented from the British to the Irish governments for the 50th Anniversary of the Rising. It is now in the care of the National Museum of Ireland.
Another 1916 Rising flag that was presented to the National Museum was less fortunate in its survival. These fragments of the tricolour flag that flew from the tower of Jacob's Biscuit Factory also made the journey from England to Ireland in 1966. They are glued onto a piece of paper from a photograph album, with the words 'Fragments of the Sinn Fein Flag which flew over Jacob's Biscuit Factory, Dublin, Easter 1916'.
Fragments of the Jacob's Factory flag (NMI Collection)
On the Monday morning of Easter week the rebels took a number of buildings across the city. They hoisted flags from the highest points of these buildings as a symbol of the new Republic which had just been declared. The GPO's Irish Republic and the Irish Citizen Army's Starry Plough flag, flown from the Imperial Hotel, were unique. The other garrisons flew either the Irish tricolour of green white and gold, or the gold harp on a green field background. Many were made beforehand in preparation for the Rising and stored at Liberty Hall, but the Jacob's tricolour was made at the garrison post during the week.
The garrison at Jacob's Biscuit Factory saw a limited amount of action that week (the story of Jacob's garrison that week can be read here). The men were mostly involved in sniping at British soldiers coming towards the city from Portobello Barracks and providing other garrisons with both supplies and men.
Jacob's flag fragments (NMI Collection)
Thomas Meldon was part of the garrison, and says in his BMH witness statement that they had forgotten to bring their flag with them as they marched out of Liberty Hall on Monday morning. On Thursday they received a message that the GPO was burning, and that the flag had been shot or burnt down. They decided to make a flag, and the search for the materials began.
'After some time a quantity of bunting was found, some green and some white, but, curious to relate, no orange – stalemate, but not defeat.
A further search brought to hand a bundle of yellow glass cloths, and the work of putting together the flag was commenced. Three men were entrusted with this task – George Ward, who has answered the last call-in; Derry Connell, who is still with us, and myself. On the completion it was discovered that the rope on the flagpole had been removed, so that the flag had to be nailed to the pole, needless to say, at the risk of life. Nevertheless, it was accomplished, and according to a little book by James Stephens, the author, on that memorable week, the flag was still flying long after the general surrender.'
In fact, James Stephens, in his book The Insurrection in Dublin, described how he could see the flag flying from Jacob's from his kitchen window on Sunday, and saw it being hauled down at about 5pm that evening.
We also have some insight as to what was happening in the factory at that moment. Patrick Cushen, an employee of Jacob's, came to the building on Sunday afternoon after the surrender of the Volunteers to protect the factory from looters. He left an account of the scene he found, including meeting John MacBride and the hauling down of the tricolour flag –
'Having heard of the rebels' surrender of the factory, I ran down and saw about 90 of them getting out the windows and a lot of the rabble getting up the rope that was hanging from the office window, and tumbling the sacks of flour out. I ran round to the Caretaker's door in Peter Street and got in to the Bakehouse. I was surprised to see between 90 and 100 of the rebels standing and sitting about.
Then one of the officers of the rebels came in to the office and asked was there anyone to take charge of the place, and they told him that I would. He said there were a lot of bombs stored away that would blow up the whole place, and as they had done no damage they did not want the blame to be left on them if any careless person handled them. He brought me round and pointed them out to me, and we came back again and he showed me where there were some hand grenades stored in the little ovens in the King's Own Room; he left me on guard of them and told me on peril of my life not to let anyone lay a hand on them until the military came in who knew what they were.
He went away after making himself known to me, and to my surprise I found myself introduced to Major MacBride for the first and last time, as we all know he paid for his mad acts with his life.
Well, he was not well gone when a volley of shots rang out all round about where I was standing, and the sprinkler main over my head was pierced through with a bullet, and the hat was knocked off my head by a bomb fired through the open window. Luckily for me it passed out through a window and exploded over the refrigerator outside. Well, I thought my last hour had come. Just then the soldiers came in and shouted 'hands up', and up they went in haste, then they came over and searched me, asked me who I was and what had me there. I told them that I was an employee of the firm and that I came in to stop the looting. They said, 'if you are a member of the Works, you know where that d… rebel flag is hanging out, and get on to it at the point of the bayonet'.
I said 'you are not one bit more eager to get it down than I am myself, but before I go I want to show you those weapons of danger – the bombs'. Then we started on our way to the flagstaff, and went to three or four doors but could not get in the way they were barricaded. At last we got in through the Cake Room and away to the tower: I would not let him get out for fear of the snipers, but I got the rope and lowered the flag and no sooner than it began to come down than 5 or 6 shots rang out – I do not think that man could have been prouder if he was after taking the Empire of Germany.
On our way back he told me that I was a lucky man that I had nothing in my hands when he came in or he would have shot me where I was standing.'
Live bombs, made from tin cans, and various ammunition left in the Royal College of Surgeons (NMI Collection)
The card on which the Jacob's flag fragments are attached takes up the story from where Patrick Cushen left it. On the back is written that it was a gift from a Mr Fowler who was present in the Hotel when the flag was brought in by a Canadian soldier, and relates the following story –
'A certain time was given for the troops of the IRA to leave Jacob's and then this Canadian solder entered the building with another soldier. They met a man in uniform and promptly shot him, then a man in civilian attire who they directed to show the way to the flag. On arrival the civilian was told to 'hop it', which he promptly did. The flag was hauled down and taken to the Hotel by the Canadian who cut it up into fragments and distributed them to those present'.
Though there is no further information given with the object to help us identify either the Canadian soldier or the hotel, we can conclude that the hotel mentioned is the Shelbourne Hotel on St Stephen's Green. The Shelbourne had been taken over by British troops and used as a base from where they fought against the Irish Citizen Army, led by Michael Mallin and Countess Constance Markievicz, at the Green and the Royal College of Surgeons, and is around the corner from Jacob's Factory.
British Army troops outside the Shelbourne Hotel, St Stephen's Green. Note the nurses on the balcony above the entrance (NMI Collection)
By Friday of Easter week, between soldiers in Irish Regiments in the British Army and the arrival of 10,000 British troops from England (diverted from the fighting in France), there were about 16,000 British Army soldiers in Dublin.
British Army troops around St Stephen's Green after the Rising (NMI Collection)
Our Canadian soldier however, was not one of those sent from England on the Wednesday and Thursday, nor was he stationed in Ireland. He was most likely in Dublin on leave from the war at the Front, as were many other soldiers from British Commonwealth nations such as Australia and New Zealand. When the Rising started, these soldiers reported for duty to their nearest barracks or to Trinity College which was also operating as an Officers Training Corp (and held a stock of arms), and so formed part of the body of soldiers involved in the suppression of the Rising.
However, the tale he told to those in the hotel that he had entered Jacob's Factory and shot a man in uniform is not factual. Not only did Patrick Cushen not mention any incident of a shooting, but there are no records of any combatant death occurring around Jacob's other than Irish Volunteer John O'Grady, who was mortally wounded around the Mount Street area while trying to reach the Boland's Mills garrison. It seems the Canadian soldier's statement was an ill-advised boast to his audience.
The Jacob's Factory flag fragments will be on display in the National Museum of Ireland's new exhibition Proclaiming a Republic: The 1916 Rising in the Riding School at Collins Barracks in March 2016, along with the rest of the museum's collection of 1916 garrison flags, including the Irish Republic and Starry Plough. Though it is not be the only garrison flag in the museum's collection, it is certainly the smallest.
Tags 1916 Rising, Dublin, Easter Week, Jacob's Biscuit Factory, O'Connell Street, Sackville Street, Shelbourne Hotel, St Stephen's Green, World War I
Occupying Istanbul – Photograph album of Lt Andrew J. Horne, 1923
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The last post on the blog looked at the experience of two Dublin brothers Thomas and Joseph McEnroe in World War I. Thomas had been a professional soldier from 1902, and his brother volunteered in 1916. It is estimated that about 350,000 Irish men and women served in this war in various roles. This photograph album is one of two extraordinary books compiled by a medical officer from Dublin, Lt Andrew John Horne, and was donated to the NMI by his daughters in early 2014.
Andrew was born in 1891 to a wealthy Catholic family. His father, Andrew J. Horne from Galway, was a physician and Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians and Royal Academy of Medicine of Ireland. In 1911 he, his wife Margaret and three adult children were living in 94 Merrion Square in Dublin, with young Andrew studying medicine in university. He was just 23 when war broke out in 1914, and he entered service as a medical officer with the 17th Stationary Hospital, which was attached to the 29th Division. His first album depicts his time in Gallipoli, Turkey, where he served during the disastrous campaign from April 1915, which saw about 180,000 Allied casualties. His hospital was established on a hill overlooking the peninsula and he managed to photograph the action from his vantage point, including shells exploding on the beaches. He was one of the five officers who were the last to leave the Gallipoli Peninsula on 9 January 1916, and went on to serve in Mesopotamia, Alexandria and India. After the war he spent time with the British Army in Malta (an established centre for the Royal Army Medical Corps), the Dardenelles, the Asian / Europe border and Istanbul, then known as Constantinople, where he made his second album. The album dates from early to mid 1923 and illustrates a very particular and turbulent time in the history of the city.
Constantinople was the capital of the powerful Ottoman Empire, but by the time war broke out in 1914 the empire was in major decline, having lost most of its territories in Europe and North Africa. It entered the war in November on the side of the Central Powers in an attempt to regain its lost empire. The Allied Powers considered Constantinople, with its location at the intersection between Europe and Asia, and its control of the route from the Aegean Sea to the Black Sea through the Bosphorus Strait, as one of the great prizes of the war. Russia claimed sovereignty, and Britain and France wanted to open the area to supply Russia via these sea routes. The Allies were already negotiating the division of Istanbul during the Gallipoli Campaign of 1915. Though the Ottomans saw some military successes during the war, the Allies victory in October 1918 and the subsequent armistice led to a five-year occupation of Turkish territories, including Constantinople, by British and French troops from November. Soon afterwards, the British Prime Minister Lloyd George encouraged Greece to pursue territories in the Ottoman Empire. Their invasion of 1919 led to the growth of the Turkish Nationalist Movement, with the remains of the Ottoman army led by the experienced World War I officer, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. This conflict, known as the Turkish War of Independence, not only repelled the Greek invasion, it also ended the occupation of Constantinople and eventually led to the establishment of the Republic of Turkey.
By the time Andrew Horne arrived in Constantinople in 1923, the city was on the brink of huge change. Photographs in his album are a mix of a city under military occupation, with images of hospital ships and battleships on the Bosphorus alongside images of merchant ships transporting goods, a reminder of the economically strategic importance of the city and why its possession was so desirable.
Another image shows the railway station building at Haider Pasha on the Asian side on the city, underneath which is written 'bombed and set on fire by our aeroplanes in the Great War'.
Some photographs show the recent modernization of Constantinople, for example the old Galata Bridge, with the electric tram which had replaced the horse trams in 1912.
Many of the photographs however, are of the typical sights of the city as seen by a visiting outsider. He photographs the Harem at Topkapi Palace from the river, and visits the Hagia Sophia, originally the Greek Orthodox church of St. Sophia and a functioning mosque when Andrew visited. Less than 10 years later it would close and become the museum it is today.
The city and its people must have seemed quite exotic to Andrew; he photographs men and women in traditional dress, workers and beggars in the streets.
One page of photographs shows people, labeled as Greek refugees from Asia, at a Constantinople port. This is a scene from the compulsory population exchange between Greece and Turkey in 1923, which saw the movement of about 2 million Greeks and Turkish Muslims between the two countries. The people in Andrew's photograph, pictured with their household goods waiting to leave by boat, were some of the 1.5 million relocated to Greece after the Convention Concerning the Exchange of Greek and Turkish Populations was signed on 30 January 1923. This was to lead to the population of the newly formed Republic of Turkey to be almost 98% Muslim within a few years, though the country was to remain a secular state.
Although Andrew could not have known it, his photographs captured the last moments of Constantinople, the capital of an empire. A few months beforehand, the Ottoman Sultanate had been abolished, and the last Sultan had fled the country. A few months later, the occupation of the city was ended with the arrival of the Turkish Army, and the declaration of the Republic on 29 October 1923. Atatürk, the leader of the Provisional Government of Turkey, became its first president, and moved the capital to Ankara. Even the name Constantinople soon went out of use, as the city became the Istanbul we know today. Lt Andrew Horne's Gallipoli photograph album will be on display and fully viewable in digital format in the World War I Centenary exhibition in the National Museum of Ireland, Collin Barracks, opening end of November.
Tags Irish in World War I, Istanbul, World War I
Irish in World War I Prisoner of war World War I
Prisoner of War Photograph Album, Joseph McEnroe, WWI
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This July we commemorate the centenary of the First World War and remember those men who served in the various armies of all nations. Two such men were brothers Thomas and Joseph McEnroe, who served with the Royal Irish Fusiliers, and between them their experience covers the war years between 1914 and 1918. This album was made by Joseph after the war, and documents his experience as a prisoner of war in Germany between 1917 and 1918. It was donated to the National Museum in 1986.
It has only been in the fairly recent past that Ireland has fully acknowledged the role of its people during this conflict; it is thought that up to 150,000 Irishmen enlisted and served in the various theatres of war, and the Irish at home, especially women, found job opportunities on war service, particularly in the manufacturing of munitions. The number of Irish deaths is the subject of debate, some estimate it to be about 35,000, while others include recent emigrants in foreign armies and go as high as about 50,000. It would be impossible to say definitively, as enlistment records do not necessarily state the nationality of the soldier, the Irish regiments were not 'Irish only', and individual Irishmen also served in regiments that were not connected to Ireland. Nor do the enlistment forms record the motivation for joining. In 1914 Ireland was part of the British Empire, and about 21,000 Irishmen were already serving in the British Army as professional soldiers. As the war broke out, tens of thousands more enlisted, encouraged by the call to defend small nations such as Belgium. For many Irishmen hoping for Irish independence this was an act of nationalism. Irish nationalist politician John Redmond believed that Irish participation would lead to Home Rule, and encouraged the Irish Volunteers to enlist, causing them to split in 1915 with the vast majority of Volunteers going on to enlist in the British Army.
However, motivations would have been different for every volunteer. In August 1914 this promised to be a short war, and some may have joined as a way to see the world outside Ireland. Unemployment was also very high at this time, especially in urban areas, and many others would have seen a chance to provide an income for their families.
Thomas and Joseph McEnroe were two such men – Thomas being the professional soldier, and his younger brother Joseph volunteering in 1916. They were the only children of the widowed Frances McEnroe of Waterford. In 1901 they were living in Wood Quay, Dublin, and both sons were working as wood sawyer assistants. On 22 April the next year 18 year old Thomas enlisted in the Royal Irish Fusiliers at Armagh, and started a military career. He was posted to India and served there until 1910, when he returned to Dublin and transferred to the Reserves. He took a job as a general labourer in a flourmill and settled down with his wife Susan. On 5 August 1914, the day after the UK declared war on Germany, he was re-engaged and became a Private in the 3rd Battalion, Royal Irish Fusiliers, and was mobilised to France on 12 September 1914. His military records show where and when he was injured. He was at the second Battle of Ypres in April 1915 – the Battle of St. Julien – and would have experienced the first German gas attack using a lethal chlorine gas. Thomas was shot through the pelvis on the 25th and was sent to Crumpsall Military Hospital in Manchester for his recovery. He was eventually discharged on 29 June 1916, aged 32, as 'being no longer physically fit for war service'.
Joseph McEnroe – centre
One month later his 29 year old brother Joseph enlisted as a Private in the 1st Battalion of the Royal Irish Fusiliers. I could find little about his service; it seems his records are among those lost during World War II. Only his medal card survives, so we know that he enlisted on 31 July 1916, shortly after the huge losses suffered by British forces at the Battle of the Somme.
The photograph album he made tells us more about his experiences. He was probably sent to France, and captured sometime in early 1917, as in the album he tells us he spent two years as a prisoner of war in Gettorf, a town near the Danish border. Joseph filled his album with the postcard pictures of the picturesque German town that he sent home to his wife Catherine, noting the post office, the winter gardens and cafes.
There are many photographs of him with fellow prisoners, some posing outside barrack buildings, a football team, and scenes from plays enacted in the camp, all giving an impression of normal life, with the names of the men meticulously recorded by Joseph on the reverse sides or the album page. One particularly stands out for me – the actors on the stage dressed as schoolchildren and their teacher, but the drawn and soiled faces of the prisoner audience in the foreground tell us more about the reality of their conditions.
One of the photographs included in this album is of the memorial in the cemetery at Gustrow, dedicated to the prisoners of war who died of starvation. POWs, though they were not generally executed, still suffered bad conditions, forced labour, disease and starvation in the camps. Joseph was probably no exception – his medal record shows he was discharged from service in September 1919, the cause listed as 'sickness'.
Jos eph returned home in December 1918, one month after the armistice, on the Norwegian liner the Frederik VIII, which had been chartered by the British government to transport their men back from Germany. Though the McEnroes' story reflects the experience of many Irish families during the Great War, they are unusual in one way – they both survived. At a time when Irish households, and sometimes whole streets, were receiving news of the death of their loved one, Frances McEnroe was lucky enough to have both her sons live through serious injury and imprisonment and return home.
The National Museum of Ireland has a number of photograph albums made by soldiers. They typically hold images of regiment group, individuals, places served, major events, and some even contain photographs of battle scenes, all captioned with names and memories. At first glance it might seem that their purpose is to celebrate their regiment and its history. A closer look gives me more the impression of a commemoration of the maker's fellow soldiers, a way of remembering his experiences and the men who shared them with him, and maybe a desire for these not to be forgotten.
In the back cover of Joseph's photograph album is the following inscription –
Joseph McEnroe is my name, Dublin is my station, 18 Kildare Street is my dwelling place, and Heaven is my Exportation. I hope when I am dead and gone, and all my bones are rotten, this postcard album will tell my name, when I am quite forgotten.
Joseph McEnroe 4/10/26
Late Royal Irish Fusiliers, ex prisoner of war in Germany, two years.
Soldiers and Chiefs – National Museum of Ireland – Collins Barracks
The role of the Irish soldier in World War I is explored in the Soldiers and Chiefs exhibition in Collins Barracks, which details the participation of about 150,000 Irishmen and women in the British Army and war service during the Great War.
The National Museum will open a new exhibition and hold a seminar day in late October 2014 to mark the centenary of World War I.
Tags Belgium, Germany, World War I
The First Airship in Dublin?, Sackville Street, 26 May 1916
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I came across a wonderful original photograph album in the stores last week. It's a little unusual, as many of the albums we have in the collection are of souvenir postcard photographs showing the destruction of the city centre after the Rising, which were on sale quite soon after the event. The album is described simply as photographs taken after the Sinn Fein Rebellion May 1916, with handwritten notes describing the location of each photograph, and was acquired by the museum from a Mr Smith in 1975.
As I went through it a particular image caught my eye. It was a little different to the others, which were shots focusing on the damaged buildings and streets. This photograph had no apparent focus, until I looked very closely. The text underneath reads 'The first British airship to visit Dublin coming up Sackville Street'. And there, only vaguely visible over the street, is an airship! Also noticeable in the photograph are groups of people looking upwards in its direction; a group of people have gathered around the statue of Sir John Grey in the centre of the street, and to the right of the image the drivers of a horse drawn cart appear to be turning around to get a view of it.
This unusual event was reported in The Irish Times on 27 May. 'A British airship, flying the naval ensign and bearing the Allied distinguishing mark – coloured circles – on its rudders, appeared over Dublin yesterday (Friday 26 May), and attracted very keen attention. It was first noticed east of the Custom House, and, after flying over the neighbourhood of Amiens Street Station, passed over the ruins of the Imperial Hotel, crossed Sackville Street, then turned south nearly as far as the offices of the Port and Docks Board. It then proceeded eastwards over the Liffey, and performed some evolutions over the buildings on the South Wall. As it came low an excellent view of its design was obtained by the hundreds of persons observing its movement. Three figures could be seen in the airship. The navigating officers acknowledged the cheers of the crowd by waving their hands'.
Another airship was sighted a month later on Thursday 20 July, and the Irish Times described it as an airship 'of a type not previously seen by the citizens', which manoeuvred slowly over the city for about half an hour.
This begs the question as to why this airship flew over Dublin on these days.
A second photograph shows it passing over D'Olier Street, which is clear enough to identify what type of airship it was.
The shape of the balloon envelope and the car underneath matches the SS Class blimp (Sea Scout or Submarine Scout) which the Royal Naval Air Service put into production in February 1915 after the Imperial German Admiralty declared that all enemy merchant vessels found in the waters around Great Britain and Ireland would be destroyed. These airships were equipped with bombs and a Lewis machine gun, as well as a camera, and would act as escorts for ships to protect them from the threat of the German U-boat.
As the SS Class blimp carried a camera, I suspect the purpose of this ship's flight over Dublin was to take aerial photographs of the city centre. Aerial reconnaissance was well established by 1916, and there had been major developments in the quality of cameras. It is estimated that over a million photographs were taken by British forces during the course of World War I. If the Dublin airship did take aerial shots of the post-Rising city I have not yet found them in a public collection, but I will keep looking.
So was this the first visit of an airship to Dublin? The first airship stations in Ireland, such as Malahide and Johnstown Castle in Wexford, weren't built until 1918, so this airship must have travelled from a station somewhere around the west coast of Britain, the closest being Anglesey and Pembroke, or was possibly on anti-submarine patrol in the Irish Sea. Ces Mowthorpe, in his book Battlebags, records that the SS-17 broke free of its moorings in Luce Bay in Scotland, probably sometime in 1915, and drifted across the Irish Sea, complete with crew, until they were able to land in Ireland. However, that ship most likely landed in the northern Irish counties, so this rare photograph in the Smith album may well be an image of the first airship in Dublin.
Tags 1916 Rising, Airships, Dublin, Sackville Street, World War I