Ray Butler (Fine Gael) | Oireachtas source

I am delighted the Minister for Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, Deputy Heather Humphreys, is in France this morning to mark the ceremonies to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of the Battle of the Somme. It was a major offensive by British and French armies on the German lines, beginning on 1 July 1916. The action continued until November 1916. Six Meath men were killed on the opening day of the major offensive. Edward Chambers of Trim was serving as a second lieutenant with the Lancashire Fusiliers when he was killed at 9.40 a.m. on the morning of 1 July. His regiment advanced and met German machine gun fire. Leading the first wave of men, Chambers was hit by a bullet in the forehead and killed instantaneously. Serving alongside Chambers was the Ulster Division, which also made its advance through the woods. The Battle of the Somme was one of the largest battles of the First World War, which resulted in more than 1.5 million casualties. In all, nearly 60,000 men died on the first day on the British side.

I wish to remember my great uncle also. He was born in Ballinrobe, County Mayo and emigrated to the USA in 1908. He served as a first class private with the US Army, 165th Infantry Regiment. He entered the service in New York and he was killed on 7 March 1918 in northern France. He was 25 years old when he was killed. I have a little poem I would like to read for Members this morning given that tomorrow is 1 July.

In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet

There is a new-made grave today,

Built by never a spade nor pick

Yet covered with earth ten metres thick.

There lie many fighting men,

Dead in their youthful prime,

Never to laugh nor love again

Nor taste the Summertime.

For Death came flying through the air

And stopped his flight at the dugout stair,

Touched his prey and left them there,

Clay to clay.

He hid their bodies stealthily

In the soil of the land they fought to free

And fled away.

Now over the grave abrupt and clear

Three volleys ring;

And perhaps their brave young spirits hear

The bugle sing:

“Go to sleep!

Go to sleep!

Slumber well where the shell screamed and fell.

Let your rifles rest on the muddy floor,

You will not need them any more.

Danger’s past;

Now at last,

Go to sleep!”