nursing in military hospitals by virtue of their vows, class and morality and it is interesting that, while the Curragh Camp, which was to become such a military landmark in Ireland, was under construction, the Irish Sisters of Mercy were making such an impact on this most human aspect of war.
The Crimean campaign is perhaps best remembered for an event that became immortalized in a famous poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. During the Battle of Balaclava on 25 October 1854 the infamous ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ saw the 17th Lancers, the 4th and 13th Light Dragoons and the 8th and 11th Hussars mistakenly and ill-advisedly charge the wrong hill-top Russian gun positions. It was an example, as good as any in military history, of men’s blind obedience to orders – orders, as it turned out, that were likely to have been misinterpreted – and the tragic consequences that ensued graphically illustrate the horror and futility of war. Although the Light Brigade was decimated, during the twenty-five minute, half a mile charge, the gallantry and courage of the British cavalry as poetically conveyed in Tennyson’s poem caught the public’s imagination. Of its 673 horsemen, 114 were Irish. The 17th Lancers, who were in the front rank during the charge, were known for their lavish uniforms, skull and crossbones badge and distinctive square-topped ‘schapka’ hats of Polish origin. Their regimental mascot, a terrier dog named ‘Jemmy’, had followed the charge and survived. After the battle the Lancers voyaged to Ireland where a warm welcome awaited them in Cobh, Cork and Clonmel. In time they came to the Curragh where ‘Jemmy’ was to be seen roaming about the camp in their company. Of 111,000 men who fought in the British Crimean army over 37,000, or an estimated 40 per cent, were Irish. Of these, 7,000 were killed.
After the initial landing of the allied armies on the Crimean Peninsula, the Russian forces in the area withdrew into the city of Sevastopol, which was then placed under what would prove to be a long, drawn-out siege. Not supplied with clothing to withstand harsh weather, since those planning the campaign had not expected it to last long, the allied soldiers endured much hardship during the winter of 1854. Following a number of unsuccessful attempts by the Russians to lift the siege, the allies managed, on 8 September 1855, to capture the Malakoff fortress, and three days later the Russians evacuated the city. The fall of Sevastopol was celebrated as a major victory for the allied forces, and on 30 March 1856 the war ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris. When the British departed from the Crimea they brought with them, as campaign trophies, a number of Russian military pieces; one of these, a twenty-four-pounder naval gun from Sevastopol, is to be seen in the Curragh today, having formerly been on display in Naas Barracks.
With the cessation of the Crimean conflict, the majority of the militia was dispensed with, and as the very purpose that the camp had been created for no longer existed, its future lay for a while in the balance. In any event, Lieutenant Colonel Lugard did not see his project through to the end as he was sent to the Far East, where he was attached to the Chinese Expedition. Before leaving, he requested that Captain G. W. Leach, Royal Engineers, oversee its completion. Colonel Lugard was to die in Hong Kong in 1857 but beforehand he wrote a record of the building of the camp along with his recommendations, thus providing a blueprint should there ever be such a requirement again. He entitled it, ‘Narrative of operations in the arrangement and formation of a camp for 10,000 infantry in the Curragh of Kildare’.
The camp was completed under the direction of Leach as per Lugard’s directions and its construction was the cause of immense change in the Curragh and its surroundings. It affected the physical environment of the historic plain hugely, and locally there were positive trade and recreational implications.
After forty years of relative peace, war in the Crimea had made demands of the British army to a degree far and above the martial requirements involved in the many ‘little wars’ around its colonies, mostly characterized by the quelling of unrest amongst primitive native peoples. In the wake of Wellington’s victory at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, Europe enjoyed a prolonged period of peace. With much of the British army stationed abroad, collective tactical training witnessed little change or innovation. Indeed, there existed little need for European armies to modernize; success had set the standard, and training for conventional battle on a large scale was measured against an out-dated benchmark belonging to the Napoleonic era. Consequently, the campaign in the Crimean War had been misjudged and utterly mismanaged; incompetent leadership, inferior equipment, inadequate administration and overall organizational disarray were ill-matched when taking on a foe like the Russians. The consequences were 18,000 British dead, mostly from disease, unnecessary hardship and want, and much money wasted, with the Exchequer £41 million worse off.
In some respects the Crimean War, which ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris on 30 March 1856, and the Indian Mutiny shortly afterwards, confirmed the utility of existing drills – basic as they were – disciplines and tactics, but overall there were significant and sharp lessons learned. Reforms were needed even in the area of training and such changes required an associated infrastructure. The future of the Curragh Camp, as a camp of instruction for all-arms training (cavalry, infantry and artillery combined), similar to Aldershot in particular but also Shorncliffe and Colchester, was copper-fastened and changes proceeded accordingly. A bill dated 13 March 1861 details spending of £192, 821 14s 2d on huts, roads and ranges.
Training in the ‘Art of War’
‘Range, one hundred paces, at your targets in front, in your own time, fire.’ The recruit class firing detail in the lying position, on receiving the order, immediately cocked their weapons, pulled the safety catch to ‘off’ and took careful aim. With the butts of their rifles nestled firmly into their shoulders, their open eye aligned the rear sight with the tip of the foresight and onto the four-inch patch in the centre of the target. They concentrated hard on getting their breathing right, keeping a firm grip on the weapon but without being too tense. The many hours of instruction over, the necessary elementary training successfully passed, this was it – the time for live fire to be put into effect. Live rounds were about to leave the barrels of their weapons. The sensation of actually firing a rifle for real, which many of the recruits would have wondered about, was about to be realized – the synchronized union between weapon and handler, making the rifle operate as it was designed to, attempting to ensure that the shot met its intended target, had but one purpose: to kill or to wound.
The need to train necessarily involved instruction in the use of military equipment. As the principal tool of the soldier’s trade, the rifle had seen significant innovation over the decades and centuries, from the likes of the muzzle-loaded ‘Brown Bess’ and Minié, the breech-loaded Martini-Henry to the magazine-fed .303 Lee Enfield and on to the automatic FN and Steyr rifles. All had been or were to be fired and tested on the Curragh’s rifle ranges on the south-eastern exterior of the camp. The existence of the ranges had long caused a certain strain in relations with the local residents who were worried that the shooting put their lives in danger. Eventually, in the late nineteenth century, the introduction of rifles with increased power required the necessary temporary closure, during firing practices, of the road from Ballysax to Donnelly’s Hollow.
For the first-time firer, whatever the type of weapon held in his or her grip, the priority was to master the situation, to hold one’s nerve, to rely on the training received and one’s self-belief as one squeezed the rifle’s trigger. Once fired, a milestone on the journey from civilian to soldier was reached. There were many other milestones to be passed on that journey, of course, but the overarching requirement was the subordinating of one’s individuality and freedom of choice to obeying orders, to becoming part of a team, a unit in a chain of command, where unerring conformity was demanded. It is the creation of this cohesiveness through training that is at the essence of the story of the Curragh Camp.
The nature of military training has evolved over the centuries, led in most cases by the need to understand how new technology can be best employed to win battles. The advent of gunpowder was probably the most significant development, demanding a complete rethinking of tactics and strategy. Fire-power was the most decisive factor on the battlefield, and whoever brought the most of it to bear invariably won. More precisely, it was the effect that massed,
