The people of Australia and Ireland have much in common based on genealogy and a shared heritage. The connections forged between Anzacs and the Irish in World War I have been little known until now. Jeff Kildea tells the story of Australian and Irish soldiers who fought alongside each other at Gallipoli, in France and Belgium, and in Palestine. But it was in Ireland itself that Australian soldiers forged their relationships with the Irish people, as tourists, as countrymen returning home, and in some cases becoming involved in the Easter Rising of 1916.
On 4 August 1914 following the outbreak of European hostilities, large sections of Irish Protestants and Catholics rallied to support the British and Allied war efforts. Yet less than two years later, the Easter Rising of 1916 allegedly put a stop to the Catholic commitment in exchange for a re-emphasis on the national question. In Ireland and the Great War Niamh Gallagher draws upon a formidable array of original research to offer a radical new reading of Irish involvement in the world's first total war. Exploring the 'home front' and Irish diasporic communities in Canada, Australia, and Britain, Gallagher reveals that substantial support for the Allied war effort continued largely unabated not only until November 1918, but afterwards as well. Rich in social texture and with fascinating new case studies of Irish participation in the conflict, this book has the makings of a major rethinking of Ireland's twentieth century.
The British-led Mediterranean Expeditionary Force that attacked the Ottoman Empire at Gallipoli in 1915 was a multi-national affair, including Australian, New Zealand, Irish, French, and Indian soldiers. Ultimately a failure, the campaign ended with the withdrawal of the Allied forces after less than nine months and the unexpected victory of the Ottoman armies and their German allies. In Britain, the campaign led to the removal of Churchill from his post as First Lord of the Admiralty and the abandonment of the plan to attack Germany via its 'soft underbelly' in the East. Thereafter, it was largely forgotten on a national level, commemorated only in specific localities linked to the campaign. In post-war Turkey, by contrast, the memory of Gallipoli played an important role in the formation of a Turkish national identity, celebrating both the ordinary soldier and the genius of the republic's first president, Mustafa Kemal. The campaign served a similarly important formative role in both Australia and New Zealand, where it is commemorated annually on Anzac Day. For the southern Irish, meanwhile, the bitter memory of service for the King in a botched campaign was forgotten for decades. Shaped initially by the imperatives of war-time, and the needs of the grief-stricken and the bereft, the memory of Gallipoli has been re-made time and again over the last century. For the Turks an inspirational victory, for many on the Allied side a glorious and romantic defeat, for others still an episode best forgotten, 'Gallipoli' has meant different things to different people, serving by turns as an occasion of sincere and heartfelt sorrow, an opportunity for separatist and feminist protest, and a formative influence in the forging of national identities.
The people of Australia and Ireland have much in common based on genealogy and a shared heritage. The connections forged between Anzacs and the Irish in World War I have been little known until now. Jeff Kildea tells the story of Australian and Irish soldiers who fought alongside each other at Gallipoli, in France and Belgium and in Palestine. But it was in Ireland itself that Australian soldiers forged their relationships with the Irish people, as tourists, as countrymen returning home and in some cases becoming involved in the Easter Rising of 1916.
Just under 200,000 Irishmen took part in the American Civil War, making it one of the most significant conflicts in Irish history. Hundreds of thousands more were affected away from the battlefield, both in the US and in Ireland itself. The Irish contribution, however, is often only viewed through the lens of famous units such as the Irish Brigade, but the real story is much more complex and fascinating. From the Tipperary man who was the first man to die in the war, to the Corkman who was the last General mortally wounded in action; from the flag bearer who saved his regimental colours at the cost of his arms, to the Roscommon man who led the hunt for Abraham Lincoln's assassin, what emerges in this book is a catalogue of gallantry, sacrifice and bravery.
Fighting Anzacs have metamorphosed from flesh and blood into mythic icons. The war they fought in is distant and the resistance to it within Australia has been forgotten. In the Shadow of Gallipoli corrects this historical amnesia by looking at what was happening on the Australian home front during WWI. It shows that the war was a disaster, and many Australians knew it. Discontent and dissent grew into major revolt. Bollard considers the wartime strike wave, including the Great Strike of 1917, alongside the impact of international political events including the Easter Rising in Ireland and the Russian Revolution. The first year of peace was tumultuous as strikes and riots involving returned Anzacs shook Australia throughout 1919. This book uncovers the history that has been obscured by the shadow of Anzac. This is history from below at its best.
The Irish contribution to Australian history goes both deep and wide. Originally published in 1986 the essays in this collection contribute both to the understanding of Ireland’s place in Australian history and to the interpretation of the Irish scene in the nineteenth century. Ranging from law to W. B. Yeats, and from monumental sculpture to violence and crime, the papers reflect the diversity of the Irish-Australian experience and the persistence of a distinctively Irish culture even when transported across the world.
Little has been written on Trinity College's role in Easter Week 1916 as a 'loyal nucleus' dividing the insurgents and providing an effective counterweight to rebel headquarters in the GPO. The College is usually mentioned in the context of the rebels' alleged failure to attempt its capture, and its co-option as a barracks in the later stages of the rebellion. Most commentators march past Trinity as determinedly as did the Irish Citizen Army on its way to St Stephen's Green, with at most a sideways glance at what one rebel referred to as the intellectual centre of West Britonism. Still more neglected are the men who helped to save Trinity from potential disaster at a time when it was virtually defenceless. This book reveals how five New Zealanders, acting as the core of a small squad of colonial troops, provided a vital shield to protect Trinity from capture. Had the College fallen to the surprise attack launched on it by the rebels at midnight on Easter Monday, its 324th year may well have been its last; nothing less than heavy and prolonged artillery fire would have sufficed to defeat the occupiers. Letters written home by the New Zealanders give fresh insight into important aspects of the insurrection and allow us to test some controversial claims against both Trinity's own record and the various rebel accounts. More importantly, they help to answer questions left unasked in previous studies: how close did Trinity come to being a central battleground in the Rising? How and why did it escape this grisly fate? And--not least--what might have happened but for the timely intervention of the colonial troops? Defending Trinity College Dublin, Easter 1916 puts this neglected episode into an imperial context, with Dublin as a theatre of battle in a global war.
