Local soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice in battles

Local soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice in battles

5 July 2017

IT’S possible to take a wander around the cemetery at Down Cathedral and find some of the dozen or so graves or headstones from World 

War One.

I have selected two because the experiences of these particular combatants after being wounded have enabled me to gain some insight into how thousands more must have been treated or rehabilitated, or, in many cases, must have ended their days

William John Lyttle, RAMC, was born on January 23, 1899, and died on July 13, 1917, at Naunton Park Hospital, Cheltenham.

William was the only son of William and Grace Lyttle, of Scotch Street, Downpatrick, and had enlisted in Belfast on October 27, 1915, at the age of 16. He was attached to the Royal Army Medical Corps.

He was an ironmonger by trade. On the last day of 1915 he sailed from Southampton for Rouen, and entered the war in France on January 1, 1916, as part of a team of reinforcements. On January  5 he was posted to serve with the 49th Field Ambulance at the front. 

Over a year went by and then we are told that William had received a gunshot wound to his chest on March 23, 1917, following which he was admitted into 48th Field Ambulance before being transferred to No 3 Casualty Clearing Station, where he stayed until March 27 when he was again transferred to No 3 Canadian General Hospital.

Some months later, on July 6, he was transferred on the hospital ship St Dennis from Boulogne to Naunton Park Auxiliary Hospital, Cheltenham, where he died a week later, still in his teens.

His body was transported home for interment at Down Cathedral. What a peaceful setting for William’s last resting place, far from the sound and fury of the ‘war to end all wars.’

Naunton Park Hospital had been a school, which was seconded for the duration of the war for the treatment of casualties. In fact, the school is still functioning today.

This hospital treated a total of 2,751 casualties, and William seems to have been particularly unfortunate. Of the 15,852 military casualties treated there and at other hospitals in the area, there were only 99 deaths altogether. The nursing care, particularly by the standards of a century ago, must have been outstanding.

Interestingly, these hospitals were run and staffed by Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD) nurses. They must have been an extremely dedicated and inspiring group of people, and I hope it was of some comfort to William’s parents that he had the best possible care for the final week of his life.

Henry Keith Crichton Weir, 2nd Lieutenant 10th Battalion South Staffordshire Regiment, was born on June 22, 1892, 

and died at Netley Military Hospital near Southampton on May 3, 1916.

Lieut Weir was the eldest son of Henry Crichton Weir, solicitor, and Elizabeth Singer O’Neill Weir, of Iniscora, Downpatrick. He was educated at Portora Royal School, Enniskillen, and before the outbreak of war he held a position in the Convoy woollen mills.

Having enlisted in the army, Henry was wounded in the Dardanelles on October 15, 1915. He must therefore have been involved in the ill-fated Gallipoli invasion. This was a disaster for allied troops, and it seems that Henry was one of the many casualties of that engagement.

He was invalided all the way back to Netley Military Hospital and what a long and painful journey that must have been for him. This is bound to have been detrimental to his condition. Eventually it was found necessary to amputate his right leg in February, but all to no avail. Captain Weir died on May 3 at the age of 23.

Henry Weir was only one of the 50,000 men who were treated at Netley during WW1, another of being the poet Wilfred Owen. The Royal Victoria Hospital, Netley, was commissioned by Queen Victoria, and it was a massive red-brick building, a quarter of a mile in length. (Although originally very enthusiastic, Florence Nightingale became disillusioned with the architects’ plans for the building, saying its layout was unhealthy and detrimental to the wellbeing of patients and staff — she proved to be right.)

Because of its proximity to Southampton, it was ideally situated to receive and treat the trainloads of wounded combatants coming back from France, sometimes as many as three trainloads a day. During the war years it became known as the ‘Palace of Pain’ and was said to be a microcosm of what was happening across the Channel.

It is a poignant irony that this monstrous edifice was demolished 50 years ago, but the adjoining cemetery, containing graves of the many men who died there, survives in a beautiful park, a lasting memorial to their sacrifice and suffering.