Many of those whose stories appear here were decorated with medals for bravery, and a large number showed enormous courage and disregard for their own safety in the most appalling conditions. They showed the same leadership on the battlefield that they had first exhibited on the playing fields of Belfast, Dublin and Cork. They were family members, sportsmen and soldiers, and like the thousands of other Irishmen killed in the Great War they were denied the lives that once promised so much.
A century ago, Ireland lost a generation of sporting heroes.
This is their story.
Prologue
30 APRIL 1915
In the Dublin sunlight the men marched out of their barracks accompanied by the band of 12th Lancers and pipers from the Officers’ Training Corps of Trinity College. With their straight shoulders and swinging arms they moved in perfect step, weighed down by their kitbags and heavy packs.
Family members and well-wishers lined the route, shouting encouragement and applauding as they all marched by.
At the Four Courts, where the day’s proceedings had ended, barristers, some still dressed in their gowns, spotted familiar faces and roared approval. A large crowd gathered at O’Connell Bridge, and as the procession went by, hats, handkerchiefs and scarves were thrown into the air. Occasionally, women stepped away from the pavements and thrust sweets, cigarettes and rosaries into the hands of the soldiers. There was an air of celebration, but it was tinged with a feeling of finality.
For many men of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, this was their last glimpse of the city of their birth. It was emotional as they passed the offices where they had once worked, and as they marched they acknowledged the cheers. A number of soldiers tied Union Flags and the Irish Harp Flags on their bayonets, and as they raised their standards the crowd responded.
For the ‘Pals Battalion’, this was the final goodbye. It was a last chance for Dubliners to acknowledge their own. A year later it would all be very different, the streets echoing the sounds of armed rebellion.
The march ended at North Wall, where a passenger steamer was docked, ready to take the men to Holyhead in Wales. After they boarded and prepared for the journey, there was one last important act before they set sail.
Frank Browning, the President of the Irish Rugby Football Union, who had been the inspiration behind their formation, was on the quayside to meet the men. They had played rugby and socialised with him, and as their friend and mentor he had recruited many into the ranks. Before they left Ireland he wanted to wish them well. It would be the last time they would ever see him. Within a year, Browning would be dead, shot during the Easter Rising of April 1916.
As the light began to disappear, Frank Browning boarded the ship, and after dozens of handshakes he said his goodbyes and wished his friends good luck. He was the last to leave the vessel, and watched as the Dubliners set sail. Within weeks they would be the target of Turkish snipers on the beaches of Gallipoli. The 7th Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers contained doctors, architects, lawyers and other men, from across the city and beyond.
In peacetime many played rugby matches together, and through the camaraderie of sport became friends. When war was declared, they enlisted together and regularly practised their drills on the turf of Lansdowne Road.
Once they were teammates, but now they were comrades, heading off to war.
1An Officer and a Gentleman
‘THE GREATEST DISCOVERY IN MODERN TIMES.’
– The Yorkshire Post on Basil Maclear, Irish Rugby International, 1905.
As the light faded on a fine November day in Belfast in 1906, Basil Maclear was about to secure his place in Irish rugby history.
From a distance, the 25-year-old was easy to spot. He was muscular, nearly six feet tall, with a handlebar moustache, and as usual was wearing distinctive white gloves. Over the last year he had become a crowd favourite, which had begun when he scored on his debut against England and helped Ireland to secure a famous victory in Cork. That night, after the 17–3 victory, he had been the toast of Munster. Now it was Ulster’s turn to see if the Maclear magic could be repeated.
As kick-off approached, around 15,000 spectators were crammed into the Balmoral Showgrounds to watch Ireland play host to South Africa. The bumper crowd had generated takings of £800, which was a record for a rugby match in Belfast. With spectators packed behind the touchlines and squeezed together under the covered stand, every vantage point was taken. Naturally they had come to cheer on the home side, but many had travelled out of curiosity to see what these giants from the Southern Hemisphere had to offer. It was the first time anyone in Ireland had seen the visitors in action, and their inaugural trip to the British Isles and France had captured the public’s imagination. The Irish match was the eighteenth game of the South Africans’ tour, and they had only been beaten once. A week earlier, on a rain-sodden pitch, Scotland triumphed by 6 points to nil in Glasgow.
Such results would prove to be rare, and by the time they returned home to Cape Town they would have amassed a staggering total of 600 points in twenty-nine games, statistics that would establish them as one of the world’s leading rugby nations. The historic tour would also introduce the term ‘Springbok’ into the language of international rugby.
In Belfast, Basil Maclear was selected to play on the wing, although he was a versatile back, and could also play as an out-half and a centre. He was known for his turn of pace, his kicking and his handling, but also for the fact that he wore white gloves, which helped him to grip the ball. He always brought two pairs to each game, and religiously changed them at half-time. The young soldier was also renowned for the way in which he ‘handed off ’ opponents, and his technique was greatly admired.
If much was expected from Maclear, there was also a lot resting on the shoulders of another talented Irish back who had a reputation for winning games. James Cecil Parke, or JC as he was often known, was a centre from County Monaghan who had won his first Irish cap in 1903 while he was still a student at Trinity College. He was an excellent place kicker and a natural sportsman who excelled at athletics and golf. Parke had recently won a series of Irish tennis titles, and in later years would take part in the Olympics and at Wimbledon. Parke, Maclear and the rest of the Irish team received a great reception when they ran out onto the pitch, which, despite the time of year, was in perfect condition. There were also sporting cheers for the South Africans, who had forsaken their traditional green shirts and wore their change strip of white. It was the visitors who got the game underway, and after a signal from the Scottish referee, J. D. Tulloch, the Springbok half back, Paddy Carolin, kicked off.
The opening minutes did not go well for Ireland, and the team appeared disjointed and slightly overawed. At half-time the South Africans were in control, and had established a 12–3 lead.
In the second half, Parke successfully kicked a penalty and brought the score back to 12–6, but there was little to inspire the home crowd.
Halfway through the second half the game changed when Ireland won a scrum in the shadow of their own posts. The ball was passed to the right, and as it came loose Maclear gathered it up. He could have kicked it to safety, but instead decided to run with the ball. Still in his own 25-yard line, he evaded a tackle from the South African centre, Jack Hirsh, and palmed off winger Bob Loubser. Maclear appeared to stumble, but then managed to fend off the attentions of the half back, Jackson. By now Maclear was picking up speed, and as the crowd sensed a try was possible he approached the Springbok full back, Steve Joubert, on the halfway line.
Joubert, who was making his test debut, was the tourists’ last line of defence, and knew that he must halt Maclear at all costs. However, the Cork soldier was out of his reach. Maclear outpaced him, but the Springbok, who was also speedy, was determined to bring Maclear down, so he tried again, but with no luck. He