continue to play their part. Douglas went back to the Western Front and I applied to rejoin the army. I was waiting for the call-up when my mother got that awful telegram saying Douglas had been killed at The Somme.
‘They made me a Sergeant-Major and we sailed for Europe on a big steam ship – it took us three months to get here, would you believe? – and eventually we were sent to the front line in Belgium. I think it was spelled “Ypres”, but everyone called it “Wipers”.
‘We were fighting over a town called Passchendaele, but to be honest there wasn’t much to fight for. Every single building had been levelled and the whole area wasjust one big bomb site of churned-up mud and slime. I think I heard that more than half a million men died in that small area and, of course, I was one of them …’
Dave sat down on the rock beside Eoin, and the schoolboy could feel a chill in the air.
‘It’s hard to talk about it even now, but you’re a bright kid, and I suppose it could do some good if it helps people understand how horrible war can be.
‘The terrible thing was how young they all were. I was a grown man, nearly forty-four, but everyone in my company was half my age or younger. Some of them were younger than the senior boys in your school I saw playing rugby yesterday. I even met a few lads from rugby clubs who had joined up together as if it was some exciting away game they were going to.
‘I didn’t see much action, as I was mortally wounded on the second day of fighting, but I still saw some terrible sights.’
Dave went on to tell Eoin the grim story of his last day on the battlefield, and about all the friends he saw die in the misery of the trenches.
‘And all those young lads, every one of them cried out for their mother as they died,’ he sighed.
By the time he had finished, his ghostly eyes were wet and rimmed with red. Eoin, too, fought with hisemotions.
‘Have you enough there, son?’ asked the Anzac hero.
‘I think so, thank you very much for telling me all about it. It’s a very sad story,’ replied Eoin.
‘It is indeed, and I don’t think anyone learned from our sacrifice either,’ he added, with a grimace. ‘Since then, the world seems to have been full of war and misery …’
CHAPTER 22
C astlerock won their first four games of the season quite easily, and Mr McRae’s hunch about switching Eoin and Richie proved to be a stroke of genius. Both players upped their game and already Mr McCaffrey was licking his lips about some more silverware heading for his trophy cabinet.
‘I’ve been very impressed with your tactical kicking, Eoin,’ the headmaster told him one day in the playground . ‘You are blessed with a fine right foot, but even more importantly you seem to know just when a kick is what is needed. Keep working at it and you will become a very good rugby player indeed,’ he beamed.
Eoin, who never knew how to accept praise, felt himself turning pink, especially when Rory and Alan came up alongside.
‘I was just telling Madden here that he has a splendid knack as a kicking out-half, as well as off the ground,’ said Mr McCaffrey. ‘But that’s enough about rugby; how are your projects coming along gentlemen?’
The boys all muttered ‘fine’, but the headmaster pressed Eoin further.
‘I’m fascinated by your choice of subject – something like that could well appeal to the judges in the competition . I do hope you all work at your projects as it could bring enormous glory on yourselves, as well as the school. And of course that marvellous prize …’
Mr McCaffrey was called away and the boys sighed in relief.
‘You don’t seem to be able to do anything wrong at the moment, Eoin,’ grinned Rory. ‘
A foss-inating choice of sob-ject
,’ he chuckled, impersonating the headmaster.
‘Leave it out, Rory, it’s not my fault he finds my project so excellent,’ sniggered Eoin. ‘It’s certainly better than “Road signs of South Dublin,
‘They made me a Sergeant-Major and we sailed for Europe on a big steam ship – it took us three months to get here, would you believe? – and eventually we were sent to the front line in Belgium. I think it was spelled “Ypres”, but everyone called it “Wipers”.
‘We were fighting over a town called Passchendaele, but to be honest there wasn’t much to fight for. Every single building had been levelled and the whole area wasjust one big bomb site of churned-up mud and slime. I think I heard that more than half a million men died in that small area and, of course, I was one of them …’
Dave sat down on the rock beside Eoin, and the schoolboy could feel a chill in the air.
‘It’s hard to talk about it even now, but you’re a bright kid, and I suppose it could do some good if it helps people understand how horrible war can be.
‘The terrible thing was how young they all were. I was a grown man, nearly forty-four, but everyone in my company was half my age or younger. Some of them were younger than the senior boys in your school I saw playing rugby yesterday. I even met a few lads from rugby clubs who had joined up together as if it was some exciting away game they were going to.
‘I didn’t see much action, as I was mortally wounded on the second day of fighting, but I still saw some terrible sights.’
Dave went on to tell Eoin the grim story of his last day on the battlefield, and about all the friends he saw die in the misery of the trenches.
‘And all those young lads, every one of them cried out for their mother as they died,’ he sighed.
By the time he had finished, his ghostly eyes were wet and rimmed with red. Eoin, too, fought with hisemotions.
‘Have you enough there, son?’ asked the Anzac hero.
‘I think so, thank you very much for telling me all about it. It’s a very sad story,’ replied Eoin.
‘It is indeed, and I don’t think anyone learned from our sacrifice either,’ he added, with a grimace. ‘Since then, the world seems to have been full of war and misery …’
CHAPTER 22
C astlerock won their first four games of the season quite easily, and Mr McRae’s hunch about switching Eoin and Richie proved to be a stroke of genius. Both players upped their game and already Mr McCaffrey was licking his lips about some more silverware heading for his trophy cabinet.
‘I’ve been very impressed with your tactical kicking, Eoin,’ the headmaster told him one day in the playground . ‘You are blessed with a fine right foot, but even more importantly you seem to know just when a kick is what is needed. Keep working at it and you will become a very good rugby player indeed,’ he beamed.
Eoin, who never knew how to accept praise, felt himself turning pink, especially when Rory and Alan came up alongside.
‘I was just telling Madden here that he has a splendid knack as a kicking out-half, as well as off the ground,’ said Mr McCaffrey. ‘But that’s enough about rugby; how are your projects coming along gentlemen?’
The boys all muttered ‘fine’, but the headmaster pressed Eoin further.
‘I’m fascinated by your choice of subject – something like that could well appeal to the judges in the competition . I do hope you all work at your projects as it could bring enormous glory on yourselves, as well as the school. And of course that marvellous prize …’
Mr McCaffrey was called away and the boys sighed in relief.
‘You don’t seem to be able to do anything wrong at the moment, Eoin,’ grinned Rory. ‘
A foss-inating choice of sob-ject
,’ he chuckled, impersonating the headmaster.
‘Leave it out, Rory, it’s not my fault he finds my project so excellent,’ sniggered Eoin. ‘It’s certainly better than “Road signs of South Dublin,
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