Soldiers of the Short Grass. Dan Harvey
of engineers, medics and members of the army service corps. The ‘disturbed districts’ were reached by means of the railways, which proved to be an effective method of moving troops directly to where they were needed. In this regard, the Curragh was an ideal internal point of embarkation. From the Curragh railway siding, troops from regiments stationed there or from regiments which had arrived overnight from England could be speedily and secretly conveyed to wherever they were needed. Similarly, troops travelling from and to Dublin were conveniently conveyed via the nearby station at Newbridge. The Curragh thus acted as an effective hub for receiving, dispatching and relaying troops to neighbouring counties and beyond. Throughout this period of unrest the Curragh garrison was required to assist in ‘putting down’ any challenge to the British occupation of Ireland. For the loyal citizens of the surrounding countryside, the Curragh Camp itself came to symbolize continuity and security, its presence signalling the British intent to continue ruling Ireland. The camp quickly came to stand as a symbol of British imperialism.
The Cardwell Reforms
The army of the British Empire, which was such an integral part of Victorian culture, witnessed, in the wake of the Crimean War, a changed, more publicly prominent perspective and a greater appreciation of the role and involvement of the ordinary soldier in war. This was unprecedented. The new focus highlighted a more sensitive understanding of the soldier’s plight in the often pitiful circumstances in which he found himself, and it caught the popular mood in a manner never before seen. The courage and endurance of the ordinary British rank and file were championed in print, poetry and painting.
Among the dispatches from the front in Crimea, those of Irishman William Howard Russell (1820–1907) in The Times had a major impact on the public imagination, bearing witness as they did to the appalling conditions, including cold, hunger and disease (mostly cholera) faced by British soldiers in the field. These and other privations, particularly during the harsh winter of 1854–55, amidst the other chaotic conditions of war, made the authorities, politicians and the public aware of the need for change. And not only newspapers, but popular poetry such as Tennyson’s famous lines, conveyed the fixed determination and matter-of-fact stoicism of the soldiers’ previously unsung heroism. Paintings as well, notably those by Lady Butler (Elizabeth Thompson, 1846–1933) were hugely popular, particularly ‘The Roll Call’ (1874), a sombre picture of Grenadier Guards mustering in the cold grey light after an engagement, which depicted the condition of the surviving soldiers in the aftermath of battle and illustrated what it was like to be an infantryman bearing the physical and emotional marks of conflict. This theme is repeated in her later paintings, and she is quoted in Paul Usherwood and Jenny Spencer-Smith’s biography of her as saying, ‘Thank God, I never painted for the glory of war, but to portray its pathos and heroism.’ (She died at Gormanston Castle, Co Meath, on 2 October 1933 and is buried at Stamullen graveyard nearby.)
While the combined efforts of people such as William Russell in print, Lord Tennyson and Rudyard Kipling in poetry and Lady Butler in paint brought an awareness and understanding of war as witnessed from the viewpoint of the ordinary soldier into the public consciousness in an unprecedented manner, what was also revealed was that forty years of peace (since Waterloo in 1815) had done little to prepare the British army for the experiences of the Crimean War with its formal pitched battles, both minor and major, at Alma, Balaclava, Inkerman and Sevastopol. There had been neither progress nor modernization, senior officers having grown old, complacent and uncritical. Without wishing to present the conduct of the Crimean War as the totally calamitous disaster of popular repute, it is impossible to ignore the ample evidence of critical shortcomings. A run-down and scandalously neglected army had taken to the field. The British war machine that had won brilliant victories over Napoleon and his generals had long since disappeared. Certainly, the army had managed to win a series of campaigns – Ceylon, Burma, northern India, China, Afghanistan, South Africa, New Zealand (1845) and the First Sikh War (1849) – as well as the individual battles of the Crimean War, but the manner and cost of their waging were unacceptable. The old ways needed progressive metamorphosis and much modernization, and now there was public demand for such changes.
Most likely the maladministration and incompetence engendered by decades of neglect would have continued if not for Germany’s stunning victory over France in the Franco-Prussian War (1870–71), however. Prussia’s clinically professional soldiers, with modern weaponry, had swept aside the more ‘traditional’ army of France, and now Britain and Ireland faced, at least in theory, the possibility of a German invasion. The conservative philosophy of reliance on ‘drill and discipline’ in the ranks, led by officers who were regarded as ‘gentlemen soldiers’, was finally recognized as something that belonged to the past, ill-fitted for changing military circumstances.
The British army in the Crimea, at least 40 per cent of which was made up of Irishmen, consisted of one cavalry and five infantry divisions, all of which were under strength. It was led by men far too old for active service, who were inexperienced at command in war. The fossilization of military thought, the economies which were put in place and the remarkably inefficient system of decentralized higher command had all contributed to the muddle and the madness which characterized the campaign.
Divided command (which is no command), with centres of control separated from one another, saw a structural and organizational disconnect resulting in administrative chaos in medical provision, feeding, supply and transport. Crucial logistical supplies were left aboard ships, those in authority either unaware that they existed or not bothering to enquire about them. Two tried and trusted units critical to battle support, the wagon train, responsible for conveying supplies wherever they were needed, and the staff corps, made up of officers who analysed courses of action and options, giving considered advice to those in command, had both been abolished with the disappearance of the Napoleonic threat. At the very top of the chain of command the arrangements were no less satisfactory. The army was the responsibility of the Secretary of State for War and the Colonies, assisted by the Secretary at War, who conveyed the government’s wishes to the commander-in-chief whose headquarters were known as the Horse Guards. Completely separate was the Master General of the Ordnance who was not military but a member of parliament who controlled all forms of military equipment, including weapons and artillery and the supply of food to the army at home. Unconnected to this, adding to the disjointedness and disorganization, was the Commissariat, under the Treasury, with responsibility for feeding troops abroad. There was no uniformity of effort and control of the army, but instead a rambling, confused command that resulted in gross inefficiency and the loss of lives.
The Royal Commission of 1858, established in the aftermath of the Crimean War, reported in 1862, but few of its recommendations were implemented due to the opposition of ‘die-hard’, reform-resistant senior military officers, prominent among them the newly appointed commander-in-chief, Field Marshal Prince George, the Duke of Cambridge, a cousin of Queen Victoria. Earlier, in January 1856, Victoria herself had been quite innovative when she instituted a military decoration for bravery to honour acts of valour during the Crimean War. Since then, the Victoria Cross (VC) medal has been awarded to 1,355 individual recipients, more than 180 of whom were Irish. The first ever award of the medal was to Irishman Mate Charles Lucas of HMS Hecla, who came from Co Monaghan. During an engagement when Hecla was part of an Anglo-French fleet bombarding the Russian fortress of Bomarsund, a live shell from the fortress landed on the ship’s deck and remained there ready to explode. Lucas, however, picked up the smoking shell, carried it to the ship’s side and dropped it into the sea where it blew up. He was one of 4,000 Irishmen in the British Navy. Sergeant (later General Sir) Luke O’ Connor from Elphin, Co Roscommon was the first (army) soldier to receive the Victoria Cross on 20 September 1854 during the battle of Alma when, though wounded, he seized the Colour of the 23rd Regiment of Foot and continued to carry it in the advance until the end of the action. A fifteen-year-old drummer of the 64th Regiment of Foot during the Indian Mutiny at Cawnpore in November 1857 became one of the youngest ever to receive the Victoria Cross. Thomas Flynn from Athlone, Co Westmeath, earned the award when, despite being wounded, he continued to engage in a hand-to-hand encounter with two rebels. On 21 August 1860, at the capture of the Northern of the Taku Forts during the Third China War, fifteen-year-old Andrew Fitzgibbon, a hospital apprentice attached to the 67th Regiment, became the second of the two youngest recipients of the medal. Accompanying a party that took up a position within 500 yards