SPECIAL ORDER OF THE DAY BY HIS MAJESTY THE KING.[14]
Reading edition
SPECIAL ORDER OF THE DAY BY HIS MAJESTY THE KING.[14]
Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers and Men—
I am very glad to have been able to see my Army in the Field.
I much wished to do so in order to gain a slight experience of the life you are leading.
I wish I could have spoken to you all, to express my admiration of the splendid manner in which you have fought and are still fighting against a powerful and relentless enemy.
By your discipline, pluck and endurance, inspired by the indomitable regimental spirit, you have not only upheld the tradition of the British Army, but added fresh lustre to its history.
I was particularly impressed by your soldierly, healthy, cheerful appearance.
I cannot share in your trials, dangers and successes; but I can assure you of the proud confidence and gratitude of myself and of your fellow countrymen.
We follow you in our daily thoughts on your certain road to victory.
GEORGE, R.I. December 5th, 1914.
General Headquarters.
R.I.R.'s AT NEUVE CHAPELLE.
[A Poem written by Rifleman J. Dickson.]
Dear Franc,
Just a few lines of verse about the Royal Irish Rifles at Neuve Chapelle.—Yours truly,
No. 9180 Rifleman J. Dickson, "A" Coy., 3rd Battalion Royal Irish Rifles, Dublin.
Come, please just pay attention, and a story I will tell Of how the gallant R.I.R.'s were the first in Neuve Chapelle; Colonel Laurie gave the order for the regiment to advance, And when they met the Germans our boys did make them dance. With bayonets fixed we rushed them, though outnumbered five to one; Each one did prove a hero, and many a gallant deed was done; Our noble Colonel, he was killed, our Major fell as well, And a score of our brave officers lost their lives at Neuve Chapelle. Our men were lost in hundreds, no regiment could do more, And when the fight was over our officers numbered four; Yet manfully they struggled amidst that living hell, And out of all the British Army were the first in Neuve Chapelle. Then here's to the gallant R.I.R., those riflemen so brave, Who nobly did their duty and found a soldier's grave; So may their glory ever shine, for they have proved their worth, And laurels brought to Ireland for the honour of the North.
"THE MAN OF SORROWS."
God hath sent thee many trials, But strength is as thy day; Do not despair or say, my child, "I have no heart to pray." For God's ways are not your ways, And tho' thou art bereft Of all that's most endearing, There is one comfort left. When a dear one has departed To enter into rest, And you feel so broken-hearted That you cannot say "'Tis best"; There is One Who will always help you And bring you great relief: For He was a Man of Sorrows And acquainted sore with grief. When your dearest idol's taken And you are dumb with pain; When your faith in man is shaken And everything seems vain, There is One you can rely on, Tho' of sinners you are chief: For He was a Man of Sorrows And acquainted sore with grief. Oh! weary, wandering, wilful child, Think of that dying thief, Who sought his Saviour, e'en tho' late, In the bitterness of grief; And say no more you are alone, Bereft of every friend: The Man of Sorrows is your stay And comfort to the end. —Dorcas Skeffington.
FOOTNOTES:
Typographical errors corrected in text:
Page 19: undergound replaced with underground
Page 37: pourtray replaced with portray
Page 70: February 3rd, 1921 replaced with February 3rd, 1915
Page 111: expecially replaced with especially