The First Snow of Winter

by Fred Allen

  As could be quite easily predicted, the military justice system, demonstrating their usual prejudice against the Irish, refused to listen to Patrick’s explanation and sentenced him to ninety days in the dreaded Glass House.

  The RC Padre at the Glass House wrote to Father O’Brien and told him that he had received a copy of the letter Father O’Brien had sent to the War Office asking that special consideration be given to the military employment of Bridget’s sole surviving son when he was released from the Glass House. He felt quite certain that the request would be granted but the final decision would depend on what Patrick Shawkey requested. The Glass House Padre told Father O’Brien that Patrick had not had an auspicious beginning to serving his sentence and it appeared that he would be recommended for immediate discharge on release. That would solve the problem. However, something had transformed Patrick into a model prisoner and now it was quite possible that he would be recommended for a return to duty.

  About two weeks before Patrick was due to complete his sentence, the Glass House Padre interviewed him and advised Father O’Brien that Patrick wanted absolutely nothing but a return to duty and to get back to his battalion as quickly as possible.

  Sure enough, Rafferty and his colleagues made their recommendation that Private Patrick O’Brien Shawkey be returned to full duty on his release without prejudice. This recommendation was based upon a unanimous assessment that Sharkey was a changed man who, with the exception of the first week of his sentence, had been a model prisoner. In support of this recommendation, they pointed to the fact that when Rafferty had his “one-on-one” counseling with Sharkey the latter had used up all but three and a half days of the twenty-two and a half days “good behavior remission time” he had been eligible for at the commencement of his sentence. He still, with less than ten days to go, remained eligible for those three and a half days. After a brief discussion with Rafferty, the staff member who Sharkey had attacked in the dining hall agreed to withdraw any charges.

  The prison Commanding Officer always stood by the gate when each prisoner left the prison. The ritual was always the same. The CO would shake hands with the now released prisoner and wish them good luck. The soldier would always salute smartly as he turned towards the open gate. As Private Patrick O’Brien Shawkey approached the gate his turn out was immaculate and his movements were as precise as could ever be expected by even the most demanding Regimental Sergeant Major in the Brigade of Guards. Staff-Sergeant Rafferty was standing on a raised platform behind the CO and he could have sworn that when Sharkey made his very precise salute he was looking directly at him. Often, over the years, in thinking about Sharkey, Rafferty wondered whether it was only his imagination or had he actually witnessed Sharkey punctuating his salute with an almost imperceptible lowering of his right eyelid.

  Sharkey was back at the Guards Depot later the same day and, at his request, subject to a complete medical examination, he was added to a draft of reinforcements scheduled to depart for France within forty-eight hours. His battalion was currently in reserve but would be back in their front line position within a week. All of this suited Sharkey just fine. He had some scores to settle as he recalled Rafferty’s advice-”Don’t get mad, get even!!!”

  Sharkey arrived at his battalion just in time to participate in an introductory course on the new 50 caliber machine guns with which the battalions were to be equipped as they became available. Sharkey’s Individual Training Record showed that he had experience with the medium machine gun that was being replaced and he quickly mastered the characteristics and deployment techniques for the new weapons.

  The new weapons had not arrived when the battalion moved back its front line position and Sharkey was assigned temporarily-at his request-to the sniper section. Sharkey found that in an extended period of trench warfare, sniping activity on both sides was practically non-existent. It was almost as if the German and Allied snipers had entered into an unspoken truce to “live and let live”. This resulted in people becoming very careless and Sharkey lost absolutely no time in taking advantage of the situation. In three nights Sharkey picked off nearly a dozen unwary Germans including one artillery spotter and two other officers working in a forward command post. On the third night he brought back three prisoners who had got themselves lost and wandered close to his sniper post.

  When his three prisoners were questioned by the Battalion Intelligence Officer they told of how their officers were thoroughly pissed off by the reappearance of British snipers. It was almost as if the Germans regarded the resumption of sniping as an act of disloyalty in breaching the tacit gentleman’s agreement and making life very dangerous once again. Sharkey’s battalion commander endorsed his activities and he was recommended twice for a Military Medal and a few weeks later was actually decorated with a Military Medal and a clasp denoting that he had been mentioned in dispatches.

  Sharkey’s initial success in sniping during those first three nights had the predictable result that the Germans were keeping their heads down and restricting their movements. The Battalion Commander desperately needed information-any information-about the German unit now occupying the sector across “no man’s land” from his battalion. He decided to send out a patrol to probe the enemy lines and try to take a prisoner or two. Because the sector to be probed by the patrol was in the area where Sharkey had been operating in his sniping activities, Sharkey was detailed to serve as a guide for the patrol.

  The patrol commander, a very junior platoon commander, was reluctant to accept Sharkey’s advice and only averted a disastrous ambush when he finally acted on Sharkey’s advice and took a defensive stance just short of the ambush site. A brief, fierce firefight ensued and the patrol took casualties but was able to disengage largely because of the efforts of Sharkey and the patrol leader acting as a rear guard. The patrol leader was seriously wounded and Sharkey saved his life by carrying him the final two hundred years to the safety of their own lines. For his activities in saving the patrol from being completely wiped out and his rescue of the patrol leader, Sharkey received a bar to his Military Medal and promotion to Corporal.

  The stalemate at the front continued late into the spring of 1918. The new medium machine guns arrived and Sharkey was re-assigned to the Machine Gun Platoon. Late in May the Platoon Sergeant was invalided out and Sharkey took his place and was promoted to Lance-Sergeant. The platoon was redeployed to some high ground on the battalion’s left flank. The relocation meant the repositioning of the platoon’s six machine guns and planning areas of responsibility and arcs of fire for each pair of guns. Sharkey and his platoon commander, supervised by their company commander, prepared range cards for each gun which assigned arcs of fire and gave each gun at least one fixed line of fire assignment. As the platoon sergeant Sharkey, went to great pains to ensure that his machine gunners were brought up to the highest level of proficiency in operating their equipment.

  Early in June the Germans decided on one final desperate effort to break out of what had become an increasingly untenable position. Their primary objective was the same high ground currently occupied by Sharkey’s machine gun platoon. The battle started just after dawn and lasted several hours. The preraid artillery bombardment caused a few casualties including the platoon commander. On finding that one of his machine gunners had been hit, Sharkey took his place and continued firing at the hordes of Germans streaming up the slope in front of his position. The final rounds of the artillery bombardment took additional casualties including the other member of Sharkey’s gun crew. Sharkey was also hit. He didn’t know just how serious he had been wounded but he knew his leg was broken because he couldn’t move it. His loader was either unconscious or dead so Sharkey tried to continue firing his gun but realized that he would not be able to drag up another box of ammunition. He was down to his last belt of ammunition when someone joined him in his small trench. It was his company commander and his first words were “OK, Sergeant, let’s get the
Hell out of here, we’ve done all we can here!”

  “Sorry, Sir, “replied Sharkey. “The only f…ing way I’m getting out of here is if you f…ing well carry me. My leg is broken. But if you want to help me, just drag up another box of ammunition and help me kill some more of those f…ing Gerries!”

  For nearly an hour Sharkey and his new partner kept up their fire on what appeared to be never ending waves of German infantry. Sharkey’s machine gun was the only one left in action and they were down to their final box of ammunition when the reserve company of the battalion came up behind them and mounted a bayonet charge on the last of the Germans attempting to make their way up the hill.

  Stretcher-bearers came forward and carried Sharkey and his company commander back to the regimental aid station. By that evening Sharkey was back in a base hospital, his leg had been set and several flesh wounds had been patched up. He was told that he would back in England within four days.

  On his third day at the base hospital Sharkey was visited by his company commander looking very dashing with his arm in a sling and leaning on a heavy cane.

  “Well, Sergeant, I guess we make quite an effective machine gun crew. There were more than a hundred bodies on that slope in front of your gun position and there were probably another two hundred who were wounded and made their way back to their own lines. But we did it! We stopped them cold and that might very well be their last gasp.”

  The Major’s demeanor changed as he suddenly became quite officious. “Sergeant Shawkey, The Commanding Officer has directed that I advise you that you have been promoted to Acting-Sergeant and that you have been recommended for the Distinguished Conduct Medal for conspicuous gallantry in defeating the enemy in what would have been a major setback for us. If they had taken that high ground our battalion position would have become untenable. It also gives me great pleasure to advise you that I have been recommended for the Distinguished Service Order and I can attribute that honor nearly entirely to your actions.” The Major saluted and left. The following day Sharkey was on his way back to Blighty.

  About a week later, back in Ireland, Sharkey’s mother burst into Father O’Brien’s tiny office to tell him that her surviving son had been wounded but was safely back in a base hospital in England and a letter from his Commanding Officer informed her that Patrick had now been awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal in addition to the Military Medal and Bar he had been already awarded. He had also been mentioned in dispatches twice and had been promoted to sergeant. The poor lady was breathless from her dash to the church and the good Father felt that she should have a wee drop from his medicinal supplies to revive her and, of course, he considered it highly appropriate for him to join with the good lady in a toast to Patrick’s survival, promotion and decorations.

  The war was over by the time Sharkey had recovered sufficiently from his wounds to be discharged from hospital. Once again he would be discharged to the Guards Depot with instructions that he be granted at least thirty days convalescent leave to be spent at his home in Ireland. He received a warm welcome at the Depot and was escorted by the Depot RSM to the Sergeant’s Mess where he found his photograph mounted in what was referred to as their Hall of Heroes. The Depot Commanding Officer interviewed him a few days later, congratulated him on his distinguished service and told him that if he would like to make the army a career there would be a vacancy on their staff as a Drill Sergeant.

  Sharkey found the Commanding Officer’s proposal very attractive. In the few days he had been at the Depot Sharkey found himself enjoying special status earned by his military service. He enjoyed the respect shown him by the Depot Officers and Warrant Officers. It was something like the status he had enjoyed during those final days at the Glass House, but very different when the reasons for his elevated status were considered. This was something he had done himself, supported by entries in his records and the colorful ribbons and oak leave clusters he wore on his chest. Such open respect was just a little intoxicating for Sharkey who had always been capable of attracting attention, but always for the wrong reasons.

  In this environment, Sharkey found the prospect of a military career increasingly attractive. It appeared that he had found his niche, a career in which his temperamental proclivity to violence would not only not lead to punishment but also result in praise from his superiors, respect from his peers and lead to decorations and promotions.

  Sergeant Patrick O’Brien Shawkey-now confirmed in the rank of Sergeant-advised the Adjutant of the Depot that he would accept the appointment as a Drill Sergeant and would report for duty at the conclusion of his convalescent leave now, extended to sixty days. The Quarter Master of the Depot arranged for the new Drill Sergeant to be issued with a full dress uniform, the careful mounting of his ribbons, and to have the actual medals court mounted.

  On his arrival back in Ireland, walking with the aid of a sturdy cane, and resplendent in his full dress uniform complete with gleaming medals, Sharkey cut a very fine figure. He was so young and so handsome, even when he removed his cap to reveal a highly polished dome, all of the young ladies, and many of the not so young ladies, in the parish were very impressed and highly vulnerable. Father O’Brien immediately recognized the imminent danger represented by even a wounded Sharkey and took pains to head off a potential population explosion in his parish by ensuring that Sharkey was never out of his sight for long.

  Sharkey returned to duty at the Guards Depot in London leaving the good Father greatly relieved, but realized that he would not know for sure for nine months when an increasing number of christenings, and quickly arranged marriages, would signify that Sharkey, despite the good Father’s best efforts, had struck again.

  At the Guards Depot and during two tours of duty with his battalion, it soon became apparent that peace time soldiering was really not for Sharkey. He was a fine drill instructor striking fear into the hearts of recruits and achieved the ultimate objective of immediate and mindless obedience. In his two tours of duty with his battalion Sharkey again demonstrated that he was among the very best of the Platoon Sergeants but one who quickly became bored with static and ceremonial duties.

  The basic problem was that Sharkey just loved to fight and dedicated to the belief that all problems could be solved with a vigorous “punchup”. His war record gave him exalted status in the hierarchy of both the training establishment and his battalion, but his abrasive temperament resulted in violent exchanges of fists in the mess and quarters. One incident at the Depot that almost led to an early end to his military career occurred when the Depot RSM-just one step below God-used the epithet “bald bastard” in referring to Sharkey within the latter’s earshot. The RSM was a tough old bastard himself but no match for the enraged tiger who confronted him. Nevertheless the RSM got in a few good licks before several warrant officers and senior NCOs managed to get the pair apart. To give the old RSM credit, he did apologize to Sharkey for his remark and, swearing all witnesses to silence, said there was no need to go to the Commanding Officer on this matter and that he would handle the matter himself with extra duties for Sharkey.

  Seven years, between the Depot and his battalion, produced a number of incidents that resulted in Sharkey enjoying moments of silence standing on the carpet in front of the Commanding Officer’s desk. The establishment was willing to forgive many incidents involving one of their most decorated NCOs but there came a point, when memories of the war and the romantic images of heroes faded, that the consequences of Sharkey’s escapades led the establishment to conclude that Sharkey, war hero or not, had to go. Sharkey was given the option of accepting an honorable discharge or facing court-martial at which a number of escapades would be considered and would most certainly result in him being stripped of his rank, given a dishonorable discharge and, possibly, a return engagement with the Glass House.

  While Sharkey recognized the invaluable contribution the Glass House and Staff Sergeant Rafferty had mad
e to his development, he had really no desire to participate in any post graduate programs. So Sharkey took the option of an honorable discharge and went home to Ireland.

  Bridget welcomed her famous son with open arms but Father O’Brien greeted Sharkey with just a little apprehension. Sure, there would be only the one Sharkey, but that was probably more than enough for the aging priest. Years of good management and wise counseling had resulted in a parish that should have been the deserved reward for an aging and loyal servant of God. Sharkey represented a distinct threat to the peaceful years of semi-retirement that the good Father had been looking forward to for years. His fears were well grounded as the stories started swirling around Sharkey’s activities and, while all stories in Ireland are exposed to cumulative creative talents as they passed from observer to observer, even after discounting the creative element in each story, Father O’Brien decided that he must act.

  The final straw came when Sharkey zeroed in on Kathleen Maguire, the very attractive daughter of Joseph Maguire the publican in whose pub Father O’Brien’s big chair resided, and where the good Father did most of his “community work”. The priest knew very well just how much Joseph Maguire wanted a grandchild, but realized that if Sharkey achieved his primary objective there would be all hell to pay and the quiet comfort of his favorite sanctum would be gone forever.

  Bridget had expressed plans of moving to Dublin to join relatives there but this move had been put on hold when Sharkey came home. Father O’Brien had a “heart to heart” with Bridget and convinced her that there really was no future for Sharkey in such a small community and Dublin would offer little more. He suggested that Sharkey’s best prospects lay in the New World. Canada would be perfect. An old colleague of Father O’Brien now had a parish in Toronto, and he knew that he could count on him to help Sharkey get settled in his new surroundings and, then, he could have his mother join him. Bridget appreciated the good intentions of her old friend and mentor, but the prospect of her much loved Sharkey ever settling down was purely a figment of the old priest’s imagination and motivated mostly by a desire to maintain his dream of a tranquil retirement.