“What did you do in the war, Daddy? ” was a question that I remember hearing often enough in my childhood. I heard it again on the television the other day and it set me thinking. It is over 70 years since the end of the Second World War. There are few survivors left now and that number is dwindling as each year passes. We have now two generations plus who have not experienced world conflict. And for that most of us are extremely grateful.
My Dad had a story he used to tell me about his adventures during the war. My parents lived in Rathfarnham in Dublin and at the time they were a young married couple. Their first child was born two months after the war started. I can only guess at their life then. My father worked in the city and would cycle two miles to catch a tram and then back each day. Very few people had cars and where they did there was the problem of not having enough petrol to run them. Rationing ruled virtually all aspects of their lives.
My father was a member of the Local Security Force. My view of what they actually did is somewhat sketchy but the gist of it seems to be that they assisted the Gardai by patrolling assigned areas and being a visible presence of law and order. They also seemed to enforce black out conditions. A sort of Irish Dad’s Army in County Dublin .
From what little I heard of his time in the Force most of their work was routine. After they came home from the day job they would then set off at night to patrol their areas on their bicycles and when “trouble” was spotted one of them had to cycle off and alert the real Gardai while the others kept an eye on the “trouble”. However, they did have one moment of unexpected excitement and subsequent glory.
On a routine patrol one night they spotted a German parachutist in the air but were unable to work out where he had landed. They knew that a German man lived in the village of Templeogue and they were suspicious that the parachutist might aim for there. Sure enough the next night when they went on patrol they learned that the German resident had a new house guest, and he also was German. Clearly the situation had to be closely observed.
They were somewhat surprised to learn that the German man and his guest had taken themselves off to the local pub for a drink or two after dinner time. My father’s patrol were in contact with the landlord of the pub. The Gardai had been alerted but word back was that they would not be able to make it for some time, and the patrol was to try and capture them. Off duty patrols of the LSF had been called in to assist and they had the place surrounded. However, their bicycles were the only piece of equipment they had. No one had a gun and they were reasonably sure that at least one of the Germans was armed. What were they to do?
Then someone had an idea and they sent word of their plan to the landlord of the pub. They waited and waited and the tension grew. This was a potentially dangerous situation . Eventually the Germans emerged from the pub and they were legless. Drunk as a skunk. The plan had worked and the landlord had successfully got them completely inebriated. There was speculation about some poitin. It was easy then for my father’s patrol to take them into custody and disarm them. No resistance was offered, and the only casualty was the size of the Germanic hangover the next day.
I have tried to research this event but I have been unable to find any details of this, other than confirmation that the house in Templeogue was a safe house for Germans during the War/Emergency. Did it happen, and did it happen in the way it was described to me? My father’s version was fully verified by my mother. For his part in this excitement , my father was presented with a special medal which my brother has to this day.
Accurate , exaggeration or invention it made a very good tale to tell when his children asked him ” What did you do in the war, Daddy?”
NOTE: The Irish police force are known as Gardai(plural) and Garda (singular) and Guard in English.