Historians who specialise in the First World War traditionally focus (sometimes, almost entirely) on the Western Front. In British (and European) collective memories, greater emphasis is given to the Battles of the Somme, which is where the 16^th (Irish) and 36^th (Ulster) Divisions fought during the entire conflict. Retracing the wartime experiences of a unit deployed in the Balkans, Mesopotamia and the Middle East, Richard Grayson provides a compelling edition of the account of a Dublin-based officer fighting with the 6^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 10^th (Irish) Division. Far from the familiar pictures of soldiers lying in the mud of Picardy, The First World War diary of Noël Drury is, to a certain extent, ‘an antidote to popular myths of the war in which men lived in trenches for four years’ (p. 6).

Research conducted exclusively through accounts written by officers can be problematic because they do not fully encompass the experiences of infantrymen. It must be remembered, however, that at the time, many infantrymen did not know how to read and write. Arguably, any private document penned by an officer is therefore of considerable importance. In addition, commanding officers often jotted down detailed narratives of their experiences, secretly hoping they would be published, one day. Drury seemed to have nurtured an inner desire to achieve this intention.

Grayson begins each chapter with an overview to guide the reader. Chapter 1 opens with a summary of volunteering. Company drills, manoeuvres and training punctuated the daily experiences of rough recruits for months. Drury's men did not differ from other Irish recruits. Boredom plagued battalions and men were ‘grousing at not being sent to the Front’ (p. 24). When they left Basingstoke on 9 July 1915, all ignored where they embarked for (chapter 2). With the other battalions, the unit sailed through the Mediterranean Sea towards their final destination: the Dardanelles. Drury recalls (chapter 3) that his battalion did not suffer many casualties when they landed at Gallipoli on 7 August 1915. In comparison, other British units fell under heavy artillery fire. In his private diary, held at the Imperial War Museum of London, the eighteen-year-old subaltern Sir Ivone Kirkpatrick recalls how the 5^th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers fell under heavy Turkish artillery before even setting foot on the shores. It appears the 6^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers landed in a zone less exposed to enemy artillery.

All British units, however, went through a similar experience once combat started. From elevated rocky hills, the invisible Turks ‘lobbed up [bombs] over the rocks’ (p. 68). Fighting heavily depended on the ability to position oneself in a strategic corner and shell the enemy without losing too many casualties. ‘Sometimes’, deplores Drury, ‘it seems as if they are somewhere in the trees behind us’ (p. 61). His unit succeeded, however, in taking Kiretch Tepe Sirt on 15 August. From then until October, the 6^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers dug in at Gallipoli (chapter 4). Save for a brutal offensive from the Turks on 27 September, not much fighting took place, as the British could not locate enemy positions properly. In such landscape, trench warfare proved significantly different from that which the two other Irish divisions experienced on the Somme.

In October 1915, with Bulgaria joining the war alongside the Central Powers, the strategy of the Allies no longer made sense. The 6^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, along with other French and British regiments, left Gallipoli for Mudros Bay on 2 October before being ordered to deploy to Salonika (chapter 5). The Allies anticipated an attack on the Serbian front. France and Great Britain sought to operate as an ironclad against the Central Powers. As Bulgaria attacked Serbia on 6 December, Drury's men were called to cover a general retreat and support the Allied divisions. Following their withdrawal to Salonika (chapter 6), between December 1915 and September 1917, the 6^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers ‘recovered from their time at Gallipoli’ (p. 144). Drury recalls his visits to the bazaar, sports competitions between units and the different conversations he had with other officers.

Of particular interest is his reaction when he heard that a rebellion had broken out in Dublin. On 29 April 1916, Drury (as did many Catholic and Protestant officers and men in their diaries) lambasted the attention-grabbing uprising: ‘It's a regular stab in the back for our fellows out here’ (p. 158). On 6 May 1916, Drury read the only available wire from London. On the front, men were provided with detailed information about Easter Week. Most importantly, Drury's notes spoke for the general apprehension of all Irish units fighting in the British Army: ‘I don't know how long we will be able to hold our heads up here as we are sure to be looked upon with suspicion’ (p. 158). He did not offer any evidence that would support the contention that the Irish soldiery were looked upon with suspicion in the aftermath of the rebellion. Unfortunately, he did not elaborate on his men's reactions. Other accounts reveal that many Dubliners in service feared for the security of their wives and children back in Dublin and dreaded the sarcasm and criticism of other British battalions (see for instance the correspondence between Thomas Finn and Monica Roberts available at the Dublin City Library and Archives).

In July 1916, Drury contracted malaria. For an entire year, he was away from his battalion, returning to Salonika in July 1917, shortly before his unit was ordered to move to Egypt and Palestine (chapter 7). British strategies sought to capture Jerusalem, split the Ottoman Empire and expand Britain's control over the Middle East. Though they did not participate in the capture of Jerusalem, the 6^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers spent four months in the region and marvelled at the landscape of exceptional beauty. Only in December 1917 did they get involved in the defence the Holy City from a Turkish counter-attack (chapter 8), before being sent to France in September 1918 (chapter 9). Quite surprisingly, the armistice (chapter 10) did not meet with any degree of enthusiasm; Drury and his men would have liked nothing more than to ‘get the dirty hounds with the bayonet’ (p. 289). Here, it is worth wondering if battalions less engaged in combat held on to a strong desire to keep fighting. Did little exposure to violence suffice to explain that enthusiasm? Was revenge powerful enough to breed such feeling? Or were these few lines added several years after the conflict had ended?

Drury's loyalty unconditionally lay with the British Empire, as did that of many serving Irishmen at the time. In pondering the motivations of men for enlisting, Drury opined that ‘shame must have been the deciding factor: how could one stay behind when every letter, every article in the papers, every dispatch, called urgently for help for our men in France, apparently with their backs to the wall’ (p. 27). This interpretation of volunteering is intriguing; it is not something academics have written about and something which deserves fuller attention.

With this additional volume, Grayson not only gives a voice to a Protestant Irishman, but he also tells the academic world, and the public at large, about the sacrifice of all the Irish soldiers and officers who volunteered during the First World War. Grayson's research at large is of vital importance, even so today. Recently, the Republic of Ireland has participated in centenary commemorations and honoured the memory of all the Irish who had fallen during the conflict. But a resurgence of vivid resentment coupled with contemporary politics has tarnished the all-inclusive spirit advocated by President Michael D. Higgins. On 4 November 2022, the headquarters of the Royal British Legion in Dublin was vandalised by a self-proclaimed group of anti-imperialists. Drury would have no doubt have voiced his disgust at such action, seeing in this act some memorial terrorism spurred by hatred and ignorance. The making of any collective national memory will always be compounded by historical distortions and fabricated myths. And even today, it is much easier to assert that a handful of badly organised rebels liberated the country rather than recognising that 210,000 Irishmen risked their lives for the defence of the British Empire and for Ireland.