ISBN 0 7165 2811 8
xii + 292 pages

Acknowledgements; Preface; The Interviewees; Bibliography; Index

   Despite existing slightly outside the mainstream of what we ordinarily review, Benjamin Grob-Fitzgibbon's collection of Irish oral histories proves delightful enough to warrant a brief detour from our usual obsession with campaigns and strategy and forces and weapons.
   In some ways, it turns out, this volume isn't really all that far beyond our usual scope. Of fifteen Irish men and two women interviewed in the book, the majority served in the armed forces with many commissioned as officers. Although most of the interviews include more than merely the years of the "Emergency"—for example, almost everyone talks about where they were born, where they grew up, and what life was like prior to 1939—the heart of each story involves the war. In addition, while the interviews comprise roughly two hundred pages and provide the real meat of the volume, Grob-Fitzgibbon also contributes about ninety pages of introductory material concerning Ireland's role in World War II.
   Ireland, it is true, was not a belligerent during the Second World War. Nevertheless, the war touched the Emerald Isle constantly and in a variety of ways, as all those interviewed make clear. When bombs weren't falling on Irish territory, when Irish men weren't volunteering to serve in the British armed forces, when the scant Irish Army wasn't desperately preparing to repel all comers, still the psychological burden of living in an environment surrounded by war hung heavily on everyone every day. That appears to have been especially true of people involved with the military—a big chunk of those in the book—but it was also a fact of life for those with a more peaceful and artistic frame of mind, such as Patrick Scott whose paintings and work with the White Stag Group seem to have resulted from the unique atmosphere in wartime Dublin.
   Each chapter takes the same form, with the interviewer asking questions—some designed for short, factual responses and others clearly intended to elicit longer and more ruminative answers—while the individuals often grow gradually more comfortable as they dredge up memories from sixty years ago and more about Irish life during the war. Some responses are very brief and not highly illuminating, but sometimes the answer to a single question can go on for pages and pages. In one of the longest chapters, the interview is conducted with five former officers together (and they provide the most knowledgeable comments regarding the Irish Army and its activities during the war), but otherwise all the interviews are conducted one-on-one.
   Here's an example of a typical exchange:

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Now, that weekend when the war broke out, in September 1939, what do you remember of those first few days?

LYNCH: Well, I remember listening to Mr Chamberlain's speech on the wireless. That was Sunday morning, 3 September. We were prepared in Ireland for neutrality. It had been foreseen that war was inevitable. Mr de Valera made it quite clear that we would be neutral. The attitude of most people was in favour of neutrality, and it must be made very clear here that one accepted neutrality as a purely political expedient. It had no moral implications of any kind. I would have thought that by and large opinion was pro-British in Ireland. There was a minority who was friendly towards Germany, and another minority who were associated with the IRA at that time who would have been mildly pro-Nazi, but that was a very small minority.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: During those first six months or so after the outbreak of war, the 'phoney war', did things change in Ireland?

LYNCH: Not really much at all. Conditions remained fairly stable in Ireland over the first two years of the war. It was only in 1941 that we became very conscious of the likelihood of invasion, whether British or German. And gradually, as well, we had to pay the price of neutrality: shortages of various kinds, although those shortages did not begin to bite until 1943.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Shortages of what?

LYNCH: Well, obvious things such as tobacco and tea. We are very much a tea-drinking people, as you probably know, and tea rationing was introduced in I think 1942 or '43, and became extremely effective. It was very fairly operated, and it meant that a great many people who previously could not afford to buy tea were now able to buy their ration of tea. But we had plenty of food, plenty of sugar, plenty of bread until 1943 when the imports of wheat were curtailed. Until that point, we got our wheat mainly from Canada, but then we began to grow wheat ourselves so that we had adequate for bread. Certainly we had plenty of meat, plenty of beef, plenty of fish. So, by and large, I have never come across any reasonable basis for complaint about food shortages. Fuel, yes. Coal became increasingly scarce and eventually we concentrated purely on what you call peat, and we call turf. Then in 1943 and 1944 there was a severe rationing of gas and electricity. The weather in these winters was extremely bad and I remember a good deal of people used to go bed early because of lack of available heating in their houses. So, now?

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Well, talk to me a little bit about transport in Ireland during the Emergency.

LYNCH: Well, in 1943 to '44, it was quite a different world. If you can imagine a world in which there were no private motor cars. Petrol rationing was introduced fairly early, and eventually private motoring was condemned and prohibited. I can remember O'Connell Street with very, very few motor cars, which were all taxis or hackney cars. And, of course, in rural Ireland horse transport was still very, very prevalent. That's one point that is very difficult for someone of your age to understand, but as late as 1943-45, horse transport was widespread in rural Ireland, and rural Ireland began ten miles outside Dublin.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Were there any horses used actually in Dublin itself?

LYNCH: Horses in Dublin? Oh yes, indeed. Horse transport was, wouldn't say widespread, but was quite common in 1943-44.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Would that be a taxi system, or privately owned horses?

LYNCH: Cabs. Privately owned cabs.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: What do you remember of the bombs in Dublin, in 1941?

LYNCH: Well, I have a very unclear memory of the bombing in Dublin. I began work on 1 April 1941. At that time we had moved to Templeogue, and I do remember the German bomber coming over the house on what must have been 3 or 4 April 1941. And one bomb was dropped about fifty yards behind the house. Another was dropped about a quarter of a mile further on in Terenure. Severe damage was done, and two or three people were killed. That's my first memory of the bombing in Dublin. Then I think it was a few weeks later that there was very extensive German bombing in the North Strand. I didn't see it, but I remember it very vividly. I remember as well the reports of the heavy bombing in Belfast and of the Dublin Fire Brigade, at Mr de Valera's request, being sent to Belfast to assist in quelling the flames. By and large, we had little experience of bombing in Ireland.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: When those bombs fell on the North Strand, did that have any drastic effect on public opinion in Ireland?

LYNCH: Not really. It's a good question, but I can't think of a good answer. I don't believe it had any effect. The general impression was that the North Strand bombing was a mistake. It was not calculated, it was not deliberate.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Did you have any desire to join either the Irish armed forces or the British armed forces?

LYNCH: None whatsoever. I joined the Local Defence Force.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Could you tell me a little bit about your experiences in the L.D.F.?

LYNCH: Well, to tell you the truth, it was not very draconian. There were occasional weekend training services, but these were not taken all that seriously. The whole thing was, not quite a lark, but a bit of a light-hearted affair.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: Was there a real sense that Ireland might be invaded?

LYNCH: Oh, there was that feeling all right. Right until 1944. From time to time there was a conviction that Ireland was going to be invaded, either by the British or by the Germans, more likely by the Germans.

GROB-FITZGIBBON: How do you think the L.D.F. would have fared if there had been an invasion?

LYNCH: I don't believe that their efforts would have been very effective. There were a vast number of people in the L.D.F., but they were badly equipped, poorly trained, and I don't think they could have put up any opposition worth speaking about in the event of an invasion.

   Of the military men in the book, one of the most unusual stories belongs to Major James Hickie who served in the Royal Fusiliers of the British Army and whose wartime career consequently took place entirely outside Ireland. During the Allied invasion of Syria and Lebanon (controlled by Vichy at the time), remnants of his battalion were captured at Kuneitra and the POW officers flown to Scarpantos where they were handed over to Italian custody. From there the officers were moved to Rhodes and then by sea via the Corinth canal to Brindisi and finally to a camp in northern Italy. However, as part of the terms of French surrender in the Levant, it was required that all British prisoners captured in the campaign must be repatriated—with Vichy General Dentz and his staff being held hostage in the meantime—so Hickie and his comrades eventually returned by sea transport to Beirut. As one of the Fusilier officers on that unusual odyssey, Hickie has already told part of his story in Parkinson's Always a Fusilier (back in 1949), but here he adds some telling details before he continues to talk about other aspects of his service.
   All the contributors bring much the same sort of casual matter-of-factness to their interviews no matter what their personal backgrounds, from soldiers to artist. With the exceptions of a few officers, none held particularly important positions or saw the war from any unusual perspectives. (At least one, John P. Duggan, has however written books about Ireland during the war.) None of them reveal any great secrets (although there's talk of Irish wives dancing naked at parties), but in sum they sketch a memorable portrait of wartime life in Ireland. As always in this sort of endeavor, nonetheless, while the memories of personal events seem quite clear and convincing, readers should remember that some dates and times and details—such as exactly when German bombers appeared over Ireland and in what numbers—might not always be right on the nose. In any event, even reduced to ink on paper the voices of these aging men and women still carry a distinctly Irish lilt as they answer Grob-Fitzgibbon's questions and talk about the past.
   This is not the most dramatic book ever to arrive here, and it's not quite in the same ballpark as what we normally read, but nonetheless The Irish Experience during the Second World War evokes a delicate fragment of a time long past as described by those who were there and remember it well, but won't be with us much longer.
   Available from online booksellers, local bookshops, or directly from Irish Academic Press or its US distributor, International Specialized Book Services.
   Thanks to ISBS for providing this review copy.