We present an extract from Dónall Mac Amhlaigh's classic memoir Saol Saighdiúra (A Soldier’s Song), which has been newly translated by the Irish poet and author Mícheál Ó hAodha.
Originally published in Irish in 1962, Mac Amhlaigh's Saol Saighdiúra (A Soldier's Song) encapsulates the excitement and mischief of a young soldier within the Irish army during the late 1940s, immersing readers in the nuances of Irish culture of the time and emphasising the profound role of language within this cultural tapestry. However, the spectre of emigration to England inevitably casts its shadow over this story, and, through this diary-like narrative, readers experience the protagonist's attempt to grapple with the delicate balance between preserving his rich heritage and pursuing optimal economic prospects...
A Visit to Dublin
Training with the Mortar today and Captain Breatnach instructing us. The Rajah nearly drove the Captain demented with all the ridiculous questions he kept asking him, every two minutes. At first, Breatnach thought that your man was asking him all this stuff because he genuinely wanted to learn, but after a while he realised that the Rajah was only doing it to make the time go by more quickly.
'By God, McMahon but I'll put the skids under you yet if you don’t stop this stupidity and concentrate properly on the lesson in hand.’
‘But a Dheadí,’68 says the Maharajah, ‘I’m dead serious.’
I presume that what the Rajah meant to say was ‘But brother’ like all the other lads say in Irish here, but that he got confused. Either way, the Captain went ballistic at this!
‘What sort of bulls**t is this now with your "O Daddy"? I’m not your father, thanks be to God! And anyway, that’s no way to speak to an o.n.c. Address me as Captain from now on boy, or you’ll be in big trouble for it. And if you can’t say it in Irish, then say it in English so we can bloody well understand you.’ The Rajah’s brow furrowed as if deeply troubled and he says:
‘But Captain, I like to talk Irish. I like to teach the Mortar through the Gaelic. We aren’t allowed to speak English when we’re on duty.’
‘I like to teach the Mortar through the Gaelic,’ says the Captain, imitating your man sarcastically. ‘I’ll tell you what you like really McMahon – you and your bloody sidekick there – except that he’s too cute to get caught at it. You like lying back on your bed and snoring your arse off all day and then going back to Seapoint at night, to hop around the floor like an idiot, and tell all the women that you’re an army officer. That’s what you really like. The pair of you are interested in just one thing and that’s causing trouble and acting the gobsh**e. More’s the pity that I’m not the Commandant here and I’d sort the two of you out once and for all – by God, I sure would!’
He continued on with the lesson then and soon forgot the Maharajah’s interruptions. He made him go out into the field instead to direct the lad learning to aim the Mortar correctly. In this case, you’ve to make hand-signals to direct whoever’s shooting and make sure he hits the target.
Breatnach sat directly behind the Mortar and began to adjust the sights.
‘How’s that now?’ he says to the Rajah.
‘To the right a small bit?’ says your man, his face scrunched up as if concentrating very intently.
The Captain re-adjusted his aim and asked the Rajah how it was now.
‘To the left a little bit,’ says the Rajah, dead serious.
‘There isn’t anything wrong with your eyes McMahon by any chance is there?’ Breatnach says dubiously re-adjusting them.
‘Is it alright now?’
‘To the left another little bit.’
The Captain cursed and re-adjusted slightly again.
‘It must be right now, is it?’
‘To the right, a tiny bit.’
‘For God’s sake boy, you made a shit of it the first time, didn’t you! Or d’you actually know the difference between your right and your left at all?’
‘I do, Captain.’
‘How’s it now then?’
‘To the left a little bit.’
‘To the left bejaysus!’ repeats the Captain, angrily jumping to his feet. ‘Don’t any of you move that Mortar until I’ve a look for myself now!’
He pushed the Rajah out of the way and went down on one knee to check the sights but was back on his feet a second later, his eyes blazing.
‘Right, McMahon, this is all just a bit of fun to you, isn’t it. I’ll wipe the smile off your face now boy, double-quick. Attention!’
The Rajah did as he was told and Breatnach gave the order – ‘forward march.’ The minute Breatnach felt wet ground under his feet, he orders the Rajah into a ‘forward jog’. Poor Rajah had to jog around the field as everyone looked on and took the mickey out of him.
‘Two to wan (one) the field,’69 says I (I can’t deny it!) but Breatnach turns on me with a fierce look.
‘That’s enough from you McCauley – or, by God, but I’ll give you "two to wan" the field. Jaysus. Out you go now there with your partner so and see how you like it. Attention. Forward jog!’
He kept the two of us at this until we were practically dropping with exhaustion…
A Soldier's Song is published by Parthian
