NEWS THE V.C. DREADS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 16050, 16 October 1915, Page 2 (Supplement)

NEWS THE V.C. DREADS.

HERO WORSHIP AT HOME. SOME TRYING ORDEALS. "If I got the Cross for my bit- out there, 5 what should I get for this? " And Mike B O'Leary, that fabulous fighter, shrank i away from a sea of upturned faces. Ho f vas pale and scared. His right arm was t mmib and aching, his hand bruised- and s sore with endless shaking in that stow { procession to the park. t .Mike did his best in that summer day <; ovation, but the whole atmosphere of roaring applause — orgy of homage and g presentation— utterly repugnant to r the mail. " It's put out I am," he told s the Count-ess of Limerick. " Shure I'm t no more than any wan of the boys. Oh, « me lady, I'm heart-weary o* the hue an' ] cry! Not another minit would I sthand j it if I didn't b'lave 't'ud bring a few boys to the colours." Beyond all doubt the V.C. is a grand * recruiting asset, whether he be a commis- s Moiied orticer, like Captain Philip Xeame, }- K.E., or a Poor Law protege like Private c Buckingham, of the Lei centers, who re- j ceived at the Mayor's hands a parse of u'olil and £100 worth of war loan stock into the bargain. ( An Exhausting " Rest." a After the deed that won the Cross 1 comes the recommendation. Then follow I the gazetting the award, with its official c i svord in the London Gazette, and short a leave at home—for the intrepid soldier's ( nerves are often sadly in need of rest. Take Corporal Keyworth, for instance. 1 Temperamentally an excitable lad, he berime cool as ice crouching on the parapet • f a German trench for two long hours and pelting the occupants with 150 high- < explosive bombs till they were utterly de- i moralised. A charmed life is this of the < ex-insurance clerk, so' strangely thrust < into the shrieking pit of war. Out of 75 i mm in his unit, 58 were struck dead or ' wounded. Yet Keyworth escaped without - a scratch from that hell of flame and i lead. Just what mastery the mail had j over his feelings was shown when he came i down the hill and collapsed through ner- i vous exhaustion. j So it's no wonder the V.C. is sent home : for a rest. Alas! his joke about returning , to the trench for " a rest" is only too tragically true. For the conquering hero's • home is now in a street beflagged and festooned with flowers and patriotic senti- i nient. His father and mother are proud, of course, though also greatly worried. Neighbours will call at all hours. The , letter-box won't hold all the invitations, ] leas, congratulations, and gifts— ii-oro tradespeople are especially trouble- , some—patent medicines and sweets, hate and cigars, neckties and boots and pipes, , all to be named after the hero, if he'll only give consent. He Doesn't Like Fuss. Ask any V.C. what he thinks of the banquets and speeches, and see how weariness and tedium darken the strong young face at the mere mention of these things. Lieutenant G. H. Woolley, the first Territorial V.C., that marvellous bomber of Hill 60, wrote home to say he'd heard he was recommended for the greatest of all decorations. " I hope they won't do this," the young officer said, "for it's an honour out of all proportion to what I've 1 done." " I'm just on© of the lucky ones," was O'Leary's own explanation of valour so prodigious that Sir Arthur Con an Doyle declared no romancer would ever dream of attributing it to a character of fiction. " I don't like a fuss," the famous sergeant protested. "Thousands of lads have done as much, or mow." Yet O'Leary was taken off to the House of Commons, where he held court in the lobby with the Duke of Devonshire, Mr. Bonar Law, Mr. BirreE, Sir Edward Carson, and Lord Robert Cecil. His fellowGuardsmen gave bin? a cheque; Ireland and England fairly rained purses, testimonials, pieces of plate, and speeches of praise. " It's O'Leary ! " ran through ex- - ited streets, and men and women pursued him till the ex-prairie policeman took the Cross from his tunic and wore in place of it the narrow strip of dark red ribbon that goes with the rarest of decorations. O'Leary in the Limelight. He was at the theatre one night, having incautiously accepted a box, anticipating an evening's relaxation. Suddenly •i beam of limelight dazzled him, ' and from the gallery came an uproarious " Three cheers fo? Mike O'Leary ! ** These were taken up with frantic zeal as word was flashed on the screen " Sergeant O'Leary, V.C., is in the house to-night, and the management hope he will get a hearty welcome." Mike will never forget it. " Terra, what was I to say? " waked the distracted man. " I bowed an' bowed an' bowed, like I read in books they do, an' I prayed for wings before the maMn's nv a speech! " Men wanted to shake his hand. Girls and women wanted to kiss the hero of that Cuinchy trench, who hurled himself upon ten Germans, killing eight, capturing two, and taking, as the official record said, " the enemy's position by ,'himself." The greengrocer's lad who rained hand grenades on the foe till they melted away before him was Corporal Edward Dwyer, of- the East Surreys, our youngest V.C,, a mere boy of nineteen. Martyred to get Recruits. In his case, too, it was only the hope of getting recruits that sustained him through orgies of worship wots© than any war. At one meeting Edward Dwyer, V.C., got 45 men to join the army. " Don't stand there," he begged the crowd from his perch beside a Landseer lion in Trafalgar Square. " Come on in with us, and IH gq back to my mates over there with a good heart." At. last even Dwyer's youth and fortitude gave way, and he went into hiding. "What Ted needs," his worried (thoughalways proud) father explained, "is a week's rest." And this was effectually ■arranged. Even the War Office, wishing to sco Corporal Dwyer, "V.C., about an extension of —well knowing the need for —sought him in vain through an officer who went up to Fulham from Whitehall in a fast service car.

What Could They Do? Dwyer met O'Learv and Sergeant Belcher, V.C., one morning at a Piccadilly luncheon, and be sure all three sympa<hbed_ -with one another over the trials to which they'd been subjected. Memories of cheers and sighs and silly questions passed between these remarkable men. Belcher had juut faced 4000 of bis old firm's workgirk, all in gala hats and col- ' ''"red scarves specially devised for wav- ; ng. There was an inscribed rose bowl 10 accept from the director's wife: a purse ..f gold, too, and an illuminated address Mibscribed for by men and women of the 1 "'!■ and employees and managers of all ir a-!.'= anxious to honour one who'd '•"'M among them till the great call '.w-, and th- great deed that won the '■ i'ns=. "It Wild,an art," the sympathetic asfo,nbiv were assured, "that probably *.v.H a thousand lives." "Where can T.r look, t.ie VC. asks. "When things like this are bred off at- us in public 9 W car,'t say anything Are we to smile? Or 1"'»k glum? 1 ' This ri niorr- than T expected." Mike said with readv Trish wit. when a tiny Belgian girl in Red Cross uniform presented him with a huge bouquet. And . ' V 11 1- this wonderful man deflowered if for the benefit, of „ pr hands in' the rowd (chiefly feminine hands) that sought a keepsake from Mike O'Learv. "His r •cnV'i' .' the Count-ess of Limerick thinks. '• is the finest thing in the whole- war.'' " An achievement," said an official a the recru ; ting headquarters in Whitehall, "vliu-h should l>e liven the widest possible publicity." For- which reason the famous sergeant made a martyr of himself. until hicrhlv placed friends got his leave extended for something like a real Test, in a place of green meads and woods and flowers. • As a recruiter your .C. is in fierce demand. Corporal Key worth's address to -k the Tally closed in a reville of regimental ; 4-y bugles,.and there was a rush to the plat-■v-S - sf. wtm ironfall p.wta pi the crowded house..