A Bloody Victory - Dan Harvey

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men and women deserve our grateful appreciation and to be rightfully honoured – not written out of Irish history, taken off the beaches at D-Day, the bridge at Arnhem, the skies above in the Battle of Britain, or the many other battles during the war. Instead, they ought to be put centre stage; they ought to be in our school textbooks as examples of courage, character and commitment to steadfast values of resilience, fighting to maintain our freedoms, values and our democratic way of life. Indifference, indecision and uncertainty in the face of challenges to these freedoms are a threat – one which could unravel the very fabric and fortitude at the core of our being. Peace and freedom cannot be taken for granted and must be valued and defended.

      I am grateful, therefore, to all those who gave me new information about those who contributed to the war effort. Specifically, I would like to thank Peter Byrne, Commandant (retd), who supplied an account of his cousin, US Ranger Sergeant Pearse Edmund ‘Ed’ Ryan, at Pointe du Hoc on D-Day. Thanks also to Tom Burns, who made me aware of his father James Gerald ‘Jimmy’ Burns and his participation with Bomber Command, and to Brian Wallace, who showed me the (flying) log book of his father, William Andrew ‘Bill’ Wallace, who was shot down over the beaches on D-Day. To Sarah Bermingham, who contributed detail about her uncle John O’Neill and his involvement at Arnhem, I am indebted. To Turtle Bunbury, who informed me of his grandfather William Robert McClintoch Bunbury, I am similarly thankful. Sincere thanks also to Conor Graham, Maeve Convery and Patrick O’Donoghue at Merrion Press for handling the book’s publication, Deirdre Maxwell for typing out the hand-written manuscript, Myles McCionnaith for editing the manuscript, and Paul O’Flynn for his technical assistance.

      The Führer was dead. Hitler had ended his own life in his command bunker under the Reichstag Chancellery building in Berlin. German wireless transmitted an announcement on 1 May 1945 that Admiral Doenitz had been appointed to succeed him as Führer, and the Allies had picked up the news. Already long certain of the pointlessness of continuing hostilities, the Wehrmacht (German army) sent communications to the Allies to open negotiations for surrender. In response, the Allies had insisted on any terms being unconditional. A surrendering document was drawn up by the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force; the German delegation arrived in Reims to sign it, and when the German generals signed the unconditional surrender on 7 May, the Supreme Allied Commander in Europe, US General Dwight D. Eisenhower, asked Kay Summersby (formerly MacCarthy-Morrogh) from Inish Beg House, Baltimore, County Cork, to stand in the historic photographs and film. The war was over and at its official ending the Irish were there.

      This was as appropriate as it was ironic, because at the very start of the war, on 4 September 1939, the day after hostilities began, 23-year-old pilot officer William Murphy, the son of William and Katherine Murphy of Mitchelstown, County Cork, was shot down and killed as he led a wave of Royal Air Force (RAF) bombers in an attack on the German naval port of Wilhelmshaven. All four bombers were lost. The sole survivor was Irishman Laurence Slattery of Thurles, County Tipperary. Willie Murphy’s death was thus both the first Irish and British death of the Second World War and Laurence Slattery became the first and longest serving western Allied prisoner of war. From its very beginning to its end, and at all places, times and events in between, the Irish were there, fighting with the Allies, for freedom and democracy, against the terrible tyranny of Nazi fascism. This book is dedicated to those same selfless Irish men and women, both native-born and of Irish descent, whose involvement must be acknowledged and not forgotten; the values for which they fought and died must never be lost.

      Victory in Europe was declared. The war was over. The Germans had finally capitulated. In early May 1945, three different German delegations signed three separate surrender documents: for the British on 4 May in Lüneburg Heath; for the Americans on 7 May in Rheims; and for the Russians on 9 May in Berlin. Hitler had ended his own life at his command post in the Führerbunker near the Reich Chancellery building in Berlin. Within days, the heavily defeated German army surrendered, and the fighting had finally finished. Militarily overcome, the Nazi regime capitulated only because it was overwhelmingly overpowered and overrun. Germany had been made to yield.

      Despite Allied and Russian victories at the Battle of Britain, Stalingrad and D-Day, each a turning point in the war, the fervour of the vehemently fanatical fascist regime had remained intact and so needed to be vanquished. It would have been entirely logical and proper for Germany to cease military operations; the Allies on the newly created Second Front had successfully achieved a lodgement, broken out at Normandy, liberated Paris, and driven fast eastwards, and the Russians on the Eastern Front were pressing westwards. It was irrational to believe that Germany could now succeed, but for the Third Reich it was intolerable to believe that they must now concede. An assassination attempt on Hitler having failed – Operation Valkyrie, on 20 July 1944 – the conflict continued. Instead of ending the war and suing for peace, the levels of hostility and horror increased. The resistance to the Allied advances across Europe intensified. There was no backward step; the Germans fought where they stood. Every city, town, river crossing and area of high ground on the Allied forces’ advance was desperately defended. The Germans, severely stricken, took heavy losses in personnel and territory, yet remained dangerously determined; every inch of the fatherland was bitterly contested.

      With the Allies were the Irish – many Irish; thousands of Irish. At least 120,000 Irish in British uniform: 70,000 from the ‘neutral’ south, and 50,000 from the ‘loyal’ north. The story of the Second World War is enormous, and because the Irish populated its many events, they have a rightful place among its many chapters, something not readily acknowledged at home in Ireland, even today. This book, along with others in a series I have written on the Irish in the Second World War, attempts to excavate them from the corners of Irish history and place them back on the D-Day beaches, the bridge at Arnhem, the frozen landscapes at the Battle of the Bulge in the Ardennes, the banks of the Rhine River, into the unimaginable horrors of the Bergen-Belsen and Luckenwalde concentration camps, and at the Battle of Berlin itself. There was no one individual ‘Irish Narrative’, but there was a narrative of single individual Irish. Whichever way you look at it, the Irish were there. There was an Irish contribution, and it was a significant one. This book highlights the Irish involvement at the end of war, focusing on Irish participation from late 1944 until mid-1945. However, it does not presuppose knowledge on behalf of the reader, so included in the opening chapter of this book is a summarisation of the opening of the Second Front – the contribution of the Irish at D-Day and Arnhem. Both contributions were the subject of prior titles in the series; for those who have read these books, the summary here includes newly researched Irish involvement – that of native-born Irish and of the wider Irish diaspora – that have come to light since the prior books were published.

      It is, I believe, important to be aware that the Irish were, in fact, there, and also to have an understanding of why. As ever, it was for a number of reasons: to seek adventure, for money, for family tradition. But it was also for altruistic reasons: many selflessly believed that Hitler had to be stopped, that he was a world problem, and that it was the best way to defend Ireland. Many of them agreed with the Irish State’s neutral stance, but for them it was not enough; they had to do more and so became involved in actually fighting in the war. So who were they, and what did they do? I am privileged in granting them worthy mention.

      THE SECOND FRONT

      Confusion, mayhem and sheer terror greeted the US Rangers as the ramps of the first landing crafts hit the shore below the cliffs at the Pointe du Hoc promontory near Omaha Beach, situated in Normandy on the northern French coastline. Irishman Sergeant Pearse Edmund ‘Ed’ Ryan was born at 29 Cork Street, Dublin, in 1924; he and his parents immigrated to the USA the same year. The following is an account of his experience at dawn on D-Day, 6 June 1944, as recounted to the author by Ryan’s cousin, Commandant Peter Byrne (retd):

      We were in the second wave, we had been delayed on the way from the troopship to the beach due to an adverse current or navigation or whatever. That delay might actually have saved some of us. As soon as we hit the water, the guy beside me had his head blown off. I mean it! It was surreal. There was no time to be shocked, sad or even to think! If you did so, you would surely panic. You just ignored the

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