大象传媒

My father Sgt George Mulligan served on Malta from 1939 to the end of the siege. I have been fortunate to meet some of the men who served with him, unfortunately he died when I was 14 so we did not have the opportunity to discuss any of his experiences. The level of intensity of the bombing of Malta must have had a lasting impact on all who lived through it. My father was in the 2nd Battalion Royal Irish Fusiliers "The Faughs" from their regimental motto Faugh an ballaght or clear the way! Anyway after the ending of the siege these heroes were reliably informed that they were going back to Britain for some r&r after their arduous experiences on Malta. My father had been in the regiment from 1937 and on Malta since then with sojourns in Palestine before the outbreak of war. Deeply appreciative of Mr Churchill's considerate move in bringing them home the Faughs prepared to bid a fond farewell to Malta. As with many things in times of war, or generally where the forces are concerned, our heroes found the blacked-out "bright" lights of London never materialised. Instead they were shipped off to a mountain warfare training school in Lebannon in Spring 1943. There they tried out fighting uphill in craggy regions and fighting downhill in craggy regions. Once the required level of confusion had been attained they were shipped off to the tiny Island of Leros in the Dodecanese Islands in the Aegean Sea. Leros gets little mention in the annals of wartime coverage. From September through to November a force of around 10,000 men from a variety of regiments and outfits were sent to takeover the Island chain of Kos, Leros and Samos from the Italian Army who by this time had seen sense and said so long to Adolf. Our heroes landed on Leros in October, a dear friend of my father Sgt Andy Lennon who died only a month or so ago who was also from Dublin, landed with his six-pound guns strapped to the outside of a submarine. Mr Churchill apparently felt that while the world may have considered Gallipoli and environs not his finest hour he still felt the soft underbelly of the Balkans was the place to lure the Nazis to their doom and perhaps finally convince Turkey to throw their lot with the allies, or atleast let the RAF use bases along the Aegean. While Mr Churchill pushed for the operation to proceed at fullspeed the Americans decided the ruse was doomed and refused to supply any aircover, the RAF as Reg would readily have testified found resources fairly limited and could not mount any air patrols over the island. Yes you guessed it, those lads who had been bombed on Malta found themseles now trying to dig slit trenches on the craggy slopes of Leros. The German airforce renewed their relationship with a vengeance, even bringing out some slow old bombers to pound the island since there was no opposition from the rival airforces. There then followed a fairly impressive parachute assault and some unpleasantness. In the best traditions of the services the overall command structure on Leros was in total chaos, anyone who seemed have aware of how to mount a proper defence was overruled, forces were deployed with a sense of gay abandon ensuring that when the fighting started communications were appalling, what little reserves they had were in the wrong place and never brought to bear at the required time and finally the surrender was ordered by a commander out of touch with his forces. If it were not for the sad and very moving War Graves Commission cemetery just below Raachi Ridge all this confusion might have had a Carry On quality. Those who survived were rounded up and taken on a long, very long train journey via Athens, Greece in general, Yugoslavia and finally fortress Germany. At one stage our Irish heroes were treated to rare appearance of the Waffen SS Irish Brigade which they were warmly invited to join on the basis that England was their natural enemy. Andy Lennon told me that the whistles and boos, impromptu rendition of God Save the King and Land of Hope and Glory left the Germans in no doubt that the Micks and Paddies knew what side their bread was buttered. Sgt George Mulligan arrived back in Ireland in 1946 where he and his mates from the Faughs all went on rip roaring bender. Andy Lennon's aunt physically took him out of a pub in Dublin and frog marched him to the boat and a job in Barclays Bank for fear that he would turn out an alcoholic if he stayed any longer with his old mates. Cpl Dick "Maggie" Magee, who was mentioned in despatches for his handling of Vickers and Bren machine guns on Leros - including deliberately setting fire to a thatched roof using tracers loaded in after every group of five ordinary rounds, got a job in Guinness and thought all his Christmases had come together. My Da got a job with British Rail down in the Dublin docks, developed TB, drank too much for our own good and finally died in 1972. He had been born in 1910 and had joined the Irish Army in 1926 before continuing his illustrious military career with His Majesty's finest from 1937. These men were initally vilified at home, now thankfully that attitude is changing. I met Dick Magee in the old British Legion hall on the docks in Dublin. An unmarked, steel-plated door, a steep flight of steps and you were there in a room of heroes all of whom played their part in Adolf's downfall. Andy Lennon died just this year 2003 and a great old soldier to the end. I am eternally grateful to them all. GGMulligan

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