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Chapter 3

By the Turn of the Century

The Camp Rebuilt

Progress comes with practice, and an army’s primary role is to train. Wars and conflicts interrupt training and exercising: the teaching and tutoring of tactics, the practising of square and ground drills. However, the post-Cardwell reformed British army was a more efficient one, better structured and organized. Now enlarged with a new regimental system, more professionally commanded and with soldiers who were younger and of a better character, the army was able, despite the heavy demands of conflicts in the colonies and occasions of police duty in Ireland, to continue large-scale formation training. The approach to training was now cognizant of the lessons learned from the Crimea and from the American Civil and Franco-Prussian wars. Each, both separately and combined, illustrated the effects of improvements in firearms in the field. More powerful, accurate, longer-range rifles in the hands of a well-trained infantry had created a firepower that was becoming increasingly lethal, particularly against the traditional cavalry charge.

The point is well illustrated by war correspondent William Russell as he observed the actions of the 93rd Highlanders, the ‘thin red line’ positioned on the crest of Kadihoi Hill at Balaclava during the Crimean War:

The silence is oppressive; between the cannon bursts one can hear the champing of bits and clink of sabres in the valley below. The Russians on their left drew breath for a moment, and then in one grand line dashed at the Highlanders. The ground flies beneath their horses’ feet, gathering speed at every stride, they dash on towards that thin red streak topped with a line of steel.

The frontal volley fire from the Highlanders’ new Minié rifles, which were more precise and had a heavier ball (bullet), hindered the Russian cavalry’s momentum; they then veered towards the Highlanders’ left, hoping to attack on the flank where infantry were fatally vulnerable to cavalry assault. A quick manoeuvre by Captain Ross’s Grenadier Company saw them wheel round towards them and pour volley after volley into their flank instead. Broken, the Russian cavalry withdrew and, as they retreated, artillery fire put the issue beyond doubt. The days of the classic cavalry charge were becoming numbered. Light cavalry was to maintain a role for raiding, reconnoitring and providing escort duties as well, of course, as engaging in dismounted action. The introduction of the cavalry carbine, which was shorter and faster-loading, was a definite improvement, and a new emphasis on flexibility of manoeuvre combined with dismounted action were underlined by the Cavalry Regulations of 1876 which saw a broadening of cavalry drill and training. Indeed, the requirement for a more all-purpose cavalry which evolved during the colonial wars in Egypt and Sudan, those ‘little wars’ of empire, saw an eventual abolition in 1899 of cavalry equipped and organized as light and heavy, although lancers were to linger a little longer. Re-armed and re-organized, the real role of cavalry was moulded into a mounted infantry, reflecting the new battlefield realities learned from the Crimean War and colonial conflicts.

Tents of the 1st Royals, Curragh Camp, 1859, with the 10th Regiment marching in, viewed from Athgarven Lodge (courtesy of the National Library of Ireland).

Cavalry training on the Curragh plain had to be greatly modified to take account of modern tactics developed in response to modern weaponry. The cavalry was supported by the artillery, which also provided covering fire to manoeuvring infantry. By its nature, a cavalry was mobile, a characteristic also required of the artillery, and hence the role of horse artillery which had to keep pace and apply fire-power where and when needed. The artillery which, up to now, had been assembled on an ad hoc basis was to have its own permanent establishment from this point on with individual units allotted their own provision of personnel, guns, equipment and horses. Their guns were to develop but, consequently, they became heavier and less mobile; the situation was only solved later by further modification to make them lighter and more mobile. Whatever the weight, their steady improvement in range and fire-power was constant, to such an extent that the Curragh became unsuitable for artillery training and alternative locations had to be sought; the Glen of Imaal in Co Wicklow was finally deemed the most suitable.

It was important that a military establishment such as the Curragh, which played a central role in enacting British military policy, should be modernized to keep up with the changing times. The camp had a central role within the empire, firstly as a reminder to the host nation that it was the camp of an occupying army, one of whose tasks was to ensure that Ireland remained firmly in the imperial realm and, secondly, as a training depot for troops that were required for duty in what had become the largest and most widespread empire the world had ever seen, stretching over a quarter of the globe and containing 370 million people. In 1897 the British army had 200,000 soldiers, 718 field guns and 26,000 horses; 100,000 soldiers were at home, 70,000 in India and 30,000 in the colonies (including Malta, Gibraltar, Egypt, Ceylon, Hong Kong, Singapore, South Africa, the West Indies, Bermuda and Canada). Of the army’s fifty battalions overseas, twenty-three were in Ireland, the remainder – twenty-seven – in the rest of the colonies. In essence, the British army in Ireland was an army of occupation, busy training for its ‘wars of peace’ elsewhere in the world.

A massive construction programme was begun to radically upgrade the camp’s infrastructure and facilities. It began to be substantially rebuilt over the last three decades of the nineteenth century, with seven barracks replacing the previous ten, and red-brick buildings replacing the old wooden and concrete structures. Although its appearance was to change, its layout, remained true to that originally laid down in Lieutenant Colonel Lugard’s plan with a general east-west layout fronting to the north and two divisions running east and west of the flagstaff respectively. Just as when the camp was first constructed, its rebuilding brought a bonanza for those contractors able to capitalize on it and provided many economic benefits to the surrounding area through the presence of a large workforce. Among the many projects that made up this major building programme were construction of barrack accommodation blocks, stabling, married quarters, stores, cook houses, guard rooms, a prison, gymnasium, messes, a women’s wash-house, mobilization stores, a water tower and fire station and a large hospital. The many red bricks required caused the brickyards at Ballysax, Athy and Newbridge to work at full output for a considerable period. Brick buildings meant permanency and permanency meant community with a self-contained town boasting its own unique atmosphere and character with churches, libraries, sports facilities (including a swimming pool), shops, post office and schools all catering for a permanent population of 4,000. The Curragh Camp had always had plenty of activity associated with it, but now it had a ‘life’ as well. With the rebuilding, a community was born, and a special spirit was awakened.

Life and Death in the Curragh

While the Curragh Camp became more established with the construction programme and the sense of community grew, life was not easy for all those whose lives were inextricably linked with its military pulse. On 16 September 1884 an officer based in the Curragh, writing in The Irish Times, drew attention to the pitiful circumstances of a local ‘Waterloo woman’, Ann Griffin. Her husband had fought with the 51st Light Infantry in the Peninsular War and at Waterloo, where he was twice wounded; four of her sons had also enlisted in the same regiment. Aged 86, she had never benefited from any kind of state support; increasingly infirm, she was totally dependent on charity.

The social problems of the Curragh were not confined to elderly women like Ann Griffin. There were, at times, many unsavoury aspects to life at the camp, including an increase in crime, difficult family situations and an influx of undesirable camp followers. The plight of some younger women was also so extreme that they fell into prostitution. In September 1867 James Greenwood wrote in London’s Pall Mall Gazette about the ‘Curragh Wrens’, prostitutes who lived in makeshift ‘nests’ among the furze bushes on the outskirts of the camp on the Curragh plain. He found ten ‘nests’ in all which accommodated about sixty women aged between seventeen and thirty-five, some of whom had been there for nine years. Each ‘nest’ consisted of a cramped shelter made of sods and gorse. With a low door, no window or chimney and an earthen floor, its furniture comprised a shelf to hold crockery, a candle and other meagre possessions. In summer, the ‘nests’ gave barely adequate shelter to up to 100 women and in winter the wind whistled through them freely. The women were all Irish and came from all parts of the country, some seeking out the camp and others ending up there by chance. They lived, gave birth and in some cases died in the ‘nests’. In the evenings when the younger women went to meet the soldiers, the older women remained behind to mind the children and prepare food. All the takings of the ‘nests’ were pooled. The camp was out of bounds but the ‘wrens’ sometimes ignored this. Venereal disease was a serious problem for the army and many troops were treated for it annually. The camp hospital catered for the soldiers but it wasn’t until 1869 that a ‘lock hospital’ (an institution for treating venereal disease) was opened in Kildare town and the ‘wrens’ could receive proper medical treatment over the twenty years which followed. The presence of these ‘unfortunates’ sometimes caused public outrage, their existence in a rural setting being more obvious than in a town or urban area. Over the years, the enforcement of the Curragh bye-laws for trespass, along with the passing of the Contagious Diseases Act in 1886, caused the problem to become less visible and extensive and, on some occasions, efforts went beyond expressions of strong disapproval and attempts at reforming some of the ‘fallen women’ met with success. The ‘wrens’, however, remained and the presence of prostitutes on the plain did not cease.

The Commander-in-Chief’s Headquarter Block circa turn of the twentieth century (courtesy of the National Library of Ireland).

A soldier’s lot at the Curragh was not always a wholeheartedly happy one. There was much to complain of: the dreariness and isolation of the camp, leaks in the wooden accommodation, dampness in the concrete huts, strenuous duties and training, little money, strict discipline – all underlined by periods of unending routine punctuated by boredom; it was little wonder that drunkenness and the company of prostitutes were so attractive, especially among some rank and file who did not have the highest moral standards to begin with.