The Photograph by Kate Kerrigan

Author:Kate Kerrigan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

November 11, 1918

WHEN NEWS OF the Armistice came through, that the war was ended, it was like the Royal Barracks Dublin was set on fire with joy.

Clive’s first thought was of Eileen. In the months that had passed since that day on Westmoreland Street, Clive had thought about her every day. The dream of seeing her again had kept him going through the grueling, repetitive everyday life of a soldier. When he heard about the armistice Clive’s first thought was, Perhaps now we can be together? Immediately he remembered that it was the Great War that had ended, not “their war.” The Irish war, the war they were all engaged in, was only beginning. In the past few months alone there had been ambushes of British soldiers all over the country, outbreaks of violence. He never left the confines of the barracks anymore. The hatred toward the English was escalating, becoming more apparent with each passing day. They had not quashed the rebellion. The Irish were more determined than ever to get their country back.

Nonetheless, the soldiers in Ireland were as happy to hear of the end to the Great War as were their counterparts across the world. So the roar of victory ran rampantly through the corridors and dormitories, mess halls and recreation rooms of the Royal Barracks. The noise was so loud, the shouts of joy so fierce that stable boys were worried the horses would bolt—­although it seemed that even their frightened neighing was celebratory, too.

The ­people of Dublin flooded into the streets. They were ecstatic that the hundreds and thousands of Irishmen who were away fighting in British regiments were to be returned to them. Peace! However, the officers in the Royal Barracks encouraged a more cautious approach. Predicting the effect of thousands of drunk triumphant soldiers on the streets of Dublin, they bought in kegs of beer and prompted the men to stay on site with their celebrations as much as possible. They couldn’t lock them up, not on a night like this, but they could encourage them to stay inside the barracks walls.

Billy was wild with triumphant one-­upmanship, screaming and punching the air while shouting, “We won! We beat the bastards!”

Explaining that the Armistice was more a decision for peace than a body-­for-­body count was pointless. He was displaying the same conquering relish as if he had personally beaten someone at arm-­wrestling.

As the night went on the men got drunker and drunker and the celebratory spirit began to turn.

While Clive had not drunk as much as the others, he had had more than he was used to. He felt that he deserved better. The ending of this war had done little more than remind him that the war that was keeping him apart from Eileen, apart from his family, was still going on.

He had thought he was getting off lightly being sent here, but it turned out they had drawn the short straw. He could never say that to the others. They would not understand.

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