Family McKenna

My late mother was born Olive Agnes McKenna, and I grew up surrounded by McKenna Grandparents, Uncles and Cousins so naturally I became interested in the McKenna Clan, given that over the years I’d learned one particular truth: if a McKenna was your friend, he or she would be your best friend in the whole world, but make an enemy of a McKenna and you could very well find yourself waking up in the Intensive Care Unit wondering how the hell you got there!

My mother’s a case point.  My brother and I gave her money at different times during the week, because she was always running out of money.  We had not a clue what she was spending it on.  On her way into town she would give the bus driver a mint along with her fare, at the Co-op check out she gave the girl on the till a mint.  Each day she attended Mass at St. Patrick’s church in Oldham and after Mass sometimes led the rosary.  On the day of her funeral an elderly man approached me and reminded me that she attended daily Mass and led the rosary, he then said that when he happened to mention that his pension was not enough to cover his heating bill, she gave him the money to pay it.  That solved the mystery of what she was doing with her money.  On another occasion she was with the family doctor and another man from St. Michael’s church collecting signatures for a pro-life petition.  They were approached by a group of pro-abortion women ranting and raving, one of them wearing a sticker on her lapel reading ‘Kill Kill Kill’.  The McKenna blood kicked in and my mother grabbed hold of the woman, ripped the sticker from her lapel and tried thrusting it into her mouth while shouting, “Eat your words, eat your words!”  The shocked pro-abortionists ran off and people began to queue to sign the petition.

During World War I (that’s one not two), my grandfather was a stretcher bearer on the front lines.  While he was away at war, my grandmother received a dreaded telegram that said granddad was missing believed killed. She should have known better, granddad was a McKenna.  After grieving for him the war came to an end and shortly after there was a knock on the door, my grandmother went to answer it screamed and fell to the floor in a dead faint!  The family rushed to see what the fuss was about and there on the doorstep was my grandfather.  He had been captured and taken prisoner of war, then released at the end of the war.

Likewise my uncles survived World War II (yep two), the Germans didn’t survive Uncle Jim who stopped a German tank by ramming it with a tram. The Japanese had a difficult time with my Uncle Bill, a Chindit operating behind enemy lines in Burma. My Uncle Len was among the British soldiers that relieved Bergen Belsen.  Jim, by the way went through the whole war from beginning to end, yet survived.

I naturally became curious about the McKenna Clan, so I did a little research.  My first surprise was to discover that the Clan (with different Irish spellings), originates from Truagh, Co. Monaghan and were known as the Lords of Truagh, or the ruling family of the Barony.  The McKenna’s were described as swordsmen, or Celtic warriors while the head of the Clan would be referred to as a ‘king’.  Well that explains a lot.

Obviously a lot of water has passed under the bridge since the middle ages when in 1436 Neill Mac Owen O’Neill was slain in his own house by the clan MacKenna of Truagh. He must have really pissed off the McKenna Clan! Given this history I’m inclined to believe that certain tendencies to respond to violence with greater violence, is genetically inherited.

On the other side of the coin is McKenna Castle (or Ardo House, Ardmore, Co. Waterford which is rich in history).  Yes, you read that right CASTLE as in a big building made of stone. McKenna Castle was known throughout Europe for its parties, attracting Lords, Ladies, socialites and celebrities from every corner of Europe and was the first building in the whole of Ireland to have electric lighting.

The tenure of the McKennas seemed to have initiated a period of refurbishment and prosperity at Ardo.  Frances Curry talks in 1895 "of the scrupulously white washed walls, gleaming brilliantly in the sun".  In fact, those years from the 1860's to the 1920's seem to have been the heyday of Ardo House.  The photographs of the early 20th century show a delightful family home, well looked after as were the splendid out-offices of the adjoining farm.  It exuded an air of prosperity and contentment.
The late Deug Connell (later to become owner of the place) spoke of a big ball given in Ardo (probably in the early part of the century) when the whole avenue beginning at the approach near his house, was lighted up with lanterns.  That must have been the same one of which Mrs Pollock spoke, her daughter, Mrs Dowson told of her father and mother bringing up cold sweets (refrigeration would have been a problem in those days), dancing all night and walking home at dawn.  Mrs Dowson also spoke of going on one occasion with her father to visit Sir Joseph who was sitting up in bed wearing his tall hat.  He died on 15th August 1906.  He had re-married and the second Lady McKenna died in July 1907.  Both were buried in a vault in an adjoining field with a large stone angel on guard.  Now the place is covered with briars.  The lady had been noted for her dedication to the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and the family was always resentful of the fact that this society got most of the McKenna money and the place was not viable.
Sir Joseph McKenna had ten children six girls and four boys from his first marriage.  One of his daughters married a grandson of Daniel O'Connell.  Another daughter Magdalen Mary aged 13 is buried in the Ardmore graveyard, as also is Kathleen Elizabeth McKenna wife of Joseph (who inherited the place) in 1918. Members of the family lived there for some years before going to England, Madeline who later became Mrs Collis was one of them.
For a period in 1920-21 it was let during the summer to the committee of Coláiste Deuglán, so her father Joseph McKenna had vacated the house by then.  There was no caretaker and the place was looted, eventually sold and deprived of its roof, so the final period of its desolation began.

  

So, my family are a fun lot when you are friendly with them but bloody downright dangerous if you’re not.


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Robin Hood, Real or Legend?

Sorry Hollywood, but for who was king during the time of Robin Hood we have to rule out the earlier Plantagenet kings, especially Richard I (who never actually returned to England), and of course King John. 

Some Historians favour Henry III (No that’s third not eighth), because there was noted in court rolls a Robert (Hobbehod) Hod of Yorkshire was a fugitive in 1225-6. However, there are other candidates for the bandit of legend. For example, Records show a man named Robin Hood lived in Wakefield, Yorkshire in the 13th and 14th centuries. Please note the dates!

In the earliest ballad of the ‘Guest of Robin Hood’ the king’s name is given as Edward, but is this Edward I or ‘Longshanks’?  There is some suggestion that the legend of Robin Hood in the ‘Guest’ mirrors William Wallace, or at least uses some of the Wallace legend.  Evidence to support this theory is at best sketchy.

 

Edward II (1307-1327) is a better bet, even if he was a bit on the gay side and married to Isabella (the She-Wolf of France), who’s lover Roger Mortimer invaded England – but this is another story.  Anyway, it was around this time that a man named Robyn Hood is recorded as a porter in the king's service, but he buggered off after a year (can’t blame him).  This is also included in the ballad of the ‘Guest’ in which Robin is pardoned by the king and goes to work for him, but there is additional evidence to support the king being Edward II.

 

Records show that in June 1323, a Little John was part of a group who made off with deer in Yorkshire.  Note the date.  Also according to legend, Little John or ‘John Little’ as he was also known, was pardoned and lived out his days in Hathersage, Derbyshire.  His grave can be found in the churchyard of St. Michael, with the original medieval gravestone just inside the entrance to the church that had once contained his cap and bow.  Although there are other candidates for this position, this is the most likely.

 

While there was an outlaw named Friar Tuck (real name Robert Stafford), he did not live around the time of any of the Robin Hoods contesting the title of legendary outlaw – he never knew the sod. Sorry ladies, Maid Marian is myth.  Much the Millar’s Son and Will Scarlet are probably real people. William Scarlet was one of many who received a pardon in 1318, once again note the date. While there are others with similar names, this is adding to the circumstantial evidence that supports the ballad of the ‘Guest’.

 

Robin’s grave is claimed to be near the site of Kirklees Priory, near Mirfield in West Yorkshire.  While the Priory gatehouse still stands and is part of a working farm and private property, the grave itself is difficult to find. The owner of the property once told me that she does not believe Robin to be buried there.  Nevertheless, a group from Nottingham did arrange to visit the site on an annual basis. Is Robin, fact or fiction? Who knows?

 

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Northwoods Forest Mystery

 

This is Karin’s first book, originally published by Publish America but now converted and re-worked as an ebook.

Karin traveled to Bemidji, Minnesota to get some background for the story.  Her father ran a travel agency for whom she worked, she also worked for AAA Travel Agency and consequently visited many places around the world, most especially Europe including my home town of Oldham and together we also visited Ireland.  Karin was able to draw on much of this experience while her characters were a mix of real characters she either knew or had met over the years.  Some of the character mix from an age long gone.

The ebook is the fictional account of a crime committed in 1883 in a logging camp close to Bemidji. One hundred and twenty years later, the mystery is solved by the descendants of the unjustly accused man, Caleb White Bear, whose life and heritage were ruined by lies and greed.  It is also the contemporary love story of Shauna McGuire, a young widow who, with her son Conor, begins a new life in modern Bemidji, following the death of her husband.

Click below for the link:

Northwoods Forest Mystery at Smashwords 

Abortion: For the Love of God.

If I love God, I love the Image of God and the Image of God is every human being; this means loving human life, respecting human life and being for human life.  Science informs us that human life begins at fertilization, so the human life in the womb must be loved and respected.  It must be given value for the value that is given to human life justifies all values and gives them purpose and meaning.

Does this refer to person-hood? No it does not.  Any suggestion that a human life in the womb or after birth is not a person and therefore can be terminated is pure nonsense.  It is an argument that overlooks the obvious: in the womb there is an individual and distinct human being, determined by its unique genetic makeup and possessing a soul that is also a spirit.  The right to life applies to the human being and no one has any right to deny this most basic of all rights.  To claim otherwise is to claim the right to be judge, jury and executioner of another human being who has committed no offense, while denying the human being’s right to life.

Arguments about a woman’s right to choose concern themselves with a woman’s desire for material benefits, pleasures and selfish requirements.  The lack of such does not place a woman in harms way, nor threaten her life.  All they do is make demands on her living standards and require a degree of commitment to the life of a human being.  The father of the infant also has obligations to both the mother and child he has created with her.  The termination of a child is therefore the result of a selfish desire to escape the consequences of one’s actions.

Abortion is not inspired by the Creator of life but rather by the creator of death.  It is an evil born within the evil desires of a beast who seeks the destruction of humanity; his desire is to fill Hell with those souls who have strayed far from the Creator and who, inspired by materialism, turn their face from God.

Karin the writer.

It starts with an idea, a few scribbled notes and maybe a character or two featured in last night’s dream.  Then the work starts, the idea has to be fleshed out to become a story with a beginning, a middle and an end.  The characters have to take on life to guide reader of the story toward the final conclusion, whatever that may be.

Then there’s the editing part.  Changes may have to be made without altering the flow of the work while ensuring the tale is told how it should be.  An ebook need not be too long, but long enough to tell a story. But a printed book would have to be at least in excess of 90,000 words and that’s a lot of work.

If you think it’s easy to write try it.  Writing is hard work and yes it does mean burning the midnight oil, indeed there is writer’s block, and a lot of writing is pure toil.  At the end the result is hopefully a book or an ebook.  This is just the start of the real work.

Who will publish said masterpiece?  Inquiries are made with this publisher and with that publisher but to no avail.  The reject letters start to pile up.  Now my wife Karin has been through all this and worse, even though she’s managed to get books published, selling them is quite another story.

Karin knows from her “Dashboard” how many ebooks have sold and how many samples have been downloaded.  A lot more samples than the full book, it’s as if people with readers are looking for freebees and don’t seem to be concerned about the work that goes into writing, whether they like the style or not.

Do Karin’s books cost an arm and a leg?  No.  The most expensive of her ebooks has just been reduced by a buck to a princely, $3.99 and is easily downloaded.  Too much?  Come on, you’d pay more for a happy meal!

Where do you find her work? You could always try our website: http://www.thecookcompanies.com

Enjoy her work.

Catholics by a Jewish Businessman.

Excerpts of an article written by non-Catholic Sam Miller - a prominent Cleveland Jewish businessman:

"Why would newspapers carry on a vendetta on one of the most important institutions that we have today in the United States , namely the Catholic Church?

Do you know - the Catholic Church educates 2.6 million students everyday at the cost to that Church of 10 billion dollars, and a savings on the other hand to the American taxpayer of 18 billion dollars. The graduates go on to graduate studies at the rate of 92%.

The Church has 230 colleges and universities in the U.S. with an enrollment of 700,000 students.

The Catholic Church has a non-profit hospital system of 637 hospitals, which account for hospital treatment of 1 out of every 5 people - not just Catholics - in the United States today

But the press is vindictive and trying to totally denigrate in every way the Catholic Church in this country. They have blamed the disease of pedophilia on the Catholic Church, which is as irresponsible as blaming adultery on the institution of marriage.

Let me give you some figures that Catholics should know and remember. For example,

12% of the 300 Protestant clergy surveyed admitted to sexual intercourse with a parishioner;

38% acknowledged other inappropriate sexual contact in a study by the United Methodist Church ,

41.8% of clergy women reported unwanted sexual behavior;

17% of laywomen have been sexually harassed.

Meanwhile, 1.7% of the Catholic clergy has been found guilty of pedophilia.

10% of the Protestant ministers have been found guilty of pedophilia. This is not a Catholic Problem.

A study of American priests showed that most are happy in the priesthood and find it even better than they had expected, and that most, if given the choice, would choose to be priests again in face of all this obnoxious PR the church has been receiving.

The Catholic Church is bleeding from self-inflicted wounds. The agony that Catholics have felt and suffered is not necessarily the fault of the Church. You have been hurt by a small number of wayward priests that have probably been totally weeded out by now.

Walk with your shoulders high and your head higher. Be a proud member of the most important non-governmental agency in the United States .

Then remember what Jeremiah said: 'Stand by the roads, and look and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is and walk in it, and find rest for your souls'. Be proud to speak up for your faith with

pride and reverence and learn what your Church does for all other religions.

Be proud that you're a Catholic."

That's what the man had to say, I need add nothing more.  I will remind you that my wife's ebooks can be found on our website: http://www.thecookcompanies.com/

ZULU - The Battle of Rorke's Drift and Henry Hook

In the movie Zulu that introduced to the screen Michael Cain, malingering Private Henry Hook played by James Booth, surprises everyone by taking charge in the successful breakout of the burning hospital. Attacks against the defenders of Rorke's Drift continue into the night, but light from the burning hospital help the defenders see the Zulus coming.

Led by Prince Dabulamanzi kaMpande, the King's half-brother, who pursued fleeing survivors at Isandlwana across the river and then moved on to attack Rorke's Drift.

Although almost 20,000 rounds of ammunition were fired by the defenders, only about 375 dead Zulus were found at Rorkes drift; however, scores of Zulu dead were found further afield (dying from wounds or finished off by their own side), which suggests that about 500 Zulus died and about a further 500 were wounded. Zulus feared the bayonet more than the bullet, and most had died without being shot.

Although most of the movie was shot on location in South Africa, principally KwaZulu-Natal, interior scenes were completed at Twickenham Film Studios, Middlesex, England. The movies director, Cy Endfield showed a Western to Zulu extras to demonstrate the concept of film acting and how he wanted the warriors to conduct themselves.

Historical notes: The 24th Regiment of Foot is described as a Welsh regiment: in fact, although based in Brecon in south Wales, its designation was the 24th (The 2nd Warwickshire) Regiment of Foot. It did not become the South Wales Borderers until 1881. Of the soldiers present, 49 were English, 32 Welsh, 16 Irish and 22 others of indeterminate nationality.

Pvt. Alfred Henry "Harry" Hook VC was in fact a model soldier and received Good Conduct pay just prior to the battle at Rorke's Drift. Following is Henry Hook's account of the incedent in the hospital where he was on duty as a guard to protect the patients.

"Everything was perfectly quiet at Rorke's Drift after the column had left, and every officer and man was going about his business as usual. Not a soul suspected that only a dozen miles away the very men that we had said 'Goodbye', and 'Good luck' to were either dead or standing back-to-back in a last fierce fight with the Zulus. Our garrison consisted of B Company of the 2/24th under Lieutenant Bromhead, and details which brought the total number of us up to 139. Besides these, we had about 300 men of the Natal Native Contingent; but they didn't count, as they bolted in a body when the fight began. We were all knocking about, and I was making tea for the sick, as I was hospital cook at the time.

"Suddenly there was a commotion in the camp, and we saw two men galloping towards us from the other side of the river, which was Zululand. Lieutenant Chard of the Engineers was protecting the ponts over the river and, as senior officer, was in command at the drift. The ponts were very simple affairs, one of them being supported on big barrels, and the other on boats. Lieutenant Bromhead was in the camp itself. The horsemen shouted and were brought across the river, and then we knew what had happened to our comrades. They had been butchered to a man. That was awful enough, but worse was to follow, for we were told that the Zulus were coming straight on from Isandhlwana to attack us. At the same time a note was received by Lieutenant Bromhead from the Column to say that the enemy was coming on, and that the post was to be held at all costs.
"For some little time we were all stunned, then everything changed from perfect quietness to intense excitement and energy. There was a general feeling that the only safe thing was to retire and try and join the troops at Helpmakaar. The horsemen had said that the Zulus would be up in two or three minutes; but luckily for us they did not show themselves for more than an hour. Lieutenant Chard rushed up from the river, about a quarter of a mile away, and saw Lieutenant Bromhead. Orders were given to strike the camp and make ready to go, and we actually loaded up two wagons. Then Mr Dalton, of the Commissariat Department, came up and said that if we left the drift every man was certain to be killed. He had formerly been a sergeant major in a line regiment and was one of the bravest men that ever lived. Lieutenants Chard and Bromhead held a consultation, short and earnest, and orders were given that we were to get the hospital and storehouse ready for defence, and that we were never to say die or surrender.
"Not a minute was lost. Lieutenant Bromhead superintended the loop-holing and barricading of the hospital and storehouse, and the making of a connection of the defences between the two buildings with walls of mealie-bags and wagons. The mealie-bags were good big heavy things, weighing about 200 pounds each, and during the fight many of them were burst open by assegais and bullets, and the mealies (Indian corn) were thickly spread about the ground. The biscuit boxes contained ordinary biscuit. They were big square wooden boxes, weighing about a hundredweight each. The meat boxes, too, were very heavy, as they contained tinned meat. They were smaller than the biscuit boxes. While all these preparations were being made, Lieutenant Chard went down to the river and brought in the pont guard of a sergeant and half a dozen men, with the wagons and gear. The two officers saw that every soldier was at his post, then we were ready for the Zulus when they cared to come.
"They were not long. Just before half past four we heard firing behind the conical hill at the back of the drift, called Oskarsberg Hill, and suddenly about five or six hundred Zulus swept round, coming for us at a run. Instantly the natives - Kaffirs who had been very useful in making the barricade of wagons, mealie-bags and biscuit boxes around the camp - bolted towards Helpmakaar, and what was worse their officer and a European sergeant went with them. To see them deserting like that was too much for some of us, and we fired after them. The sergeant was struck and killed. Half a dozen of us were stationed in the hospital, with orders to hold it and guard the sick. The ends of the building were of stone, the side walls of ordinary bricks, and the inside walls or partitions of sun-dried bricks of mud. These shoddy inside bricks proved our salvation, as you will see. It was a queer little one-storied building, which it is almost impossible to describe; but we were pinned like rats in a hole, because all the doorways except one had been barricaded with mealie-bags, and we had done the same with the windows. The interior was divided by means of partition walls into which were fitted some very slight doors. The patients' beds were simple rough affairs of boards, raised only half a foot above the floor. To talk of hospital and beds gives the idea of a big building, but as a matter of fact this hospital was a mere little shed or bungalow, divided up into rooms so small that you could hardly swing a bayonet in them. There were about nine men who could not move, but altogether there were about thirty. Most of these, however, could help to defend themselves.
"As soon as our Kaffirs bolted, it was seen that the fort as we had first made it was too big to be held, so Lieutenant Chard instantly reduced the space by having a row of biscuit boxes drawn across the middle, above four feet high. This was our inner entrenchment, and proved very valuable. The Zulus came on at a wild rush, and although many of them were shot down they got to within about fifty yards of our south wall of mealie-bags and biscuit boxes and wagons. They were caught between two fires, that from the hospital and that from the storehouse, and were checked; but they gained the shelter of the cookhouse and ovens, and gave us many heavy volleys. During the fight they took advantage of every bit of cover there was, anthills, a tract of bush that we had not had time to clear away, a garden or sort of orchard which was near us, and a ledge of rock and some caves (on the Oskarsberg) which were only about a hundred yards away. They neglected nothing, and while they went on firing large bodies kept hurling themselves against our slender breastworks.
"But it was the hospital they assaulted most fiercely. I had charge with a man that we called Old King Cole of a small room with only one patient in it. Cole kept with me for some time after the fight began, then he said he was not going to stay. He went outside and was instantly killed by the Zulus, so that I was left alone with the patient, a native whose leg was broken and who kept crying out, 'Take my bandage off, so that I can come'. But it was impossible to do anything except fight, and I blazed away as hard as I could. By this time I was the only defender of my room. Poor Old King Cole was lying dead outside and the helpless patient was crying and groaning near me. The Zulus were swarming around us, and there was an extraordinary rattle as the bullets struck the biscuit boxes, and queer thuds as they plumped into the bags of mealies. Then there were the whizz and rip of the assegais, of which I had experience during the Kaffir Campaign of 1877-78. We had plenty of ammunition, but we were told to save it and so we took careful aim at every shot, and hardly a cartridge was wasted. One of my comrades, Private Dunbar, shot no fewer than nine Zulus, one of them being a chief.
"From the very first the enemy tried to rush the hospital, and at last they managed to set fire to the thick grass which formed the roof. This put us in a terrible plight, because it meant that we were either to be massacred or burned alive, or get out of the building. To get out seemed impossible; for if we left the hospital by the only door which had been left open, we should instantly fall into the midst of the Zulus. Besides, there were the helpless sick and wounded, and we could not leave them. My own little room communicated with another by means of a frail door like a bedroom door. Fire and dense choking smoke forced me to get out and go into the other room. It was impossible to take the native patient with me, and I had to leave him to an awful fate. But his death was, at any rate, a merciful one. I heard the Zulus asking him questions, and he tried to tear off his bandages and escape.
"In the room where I now was there were nine sick men, and J was alone to look after them for some time, still firing away, with the hospital burning. Suddenly in the thick smoke I saw John Williams, and above the din of battle and the cries of the wounded I heard him shout, 'The Zulus are swarming all over the place. They've dragged Joseph Williams out and killed him.' John Williams had held the other room with Private William Horrigan for more than an hour, until they had not a cartridge left. The Zulus then burst in and dragged out Joseph Williams and two of the patients, and assegaied them. It was only because they were so busy with this slaughtering that John Williams and two of the patients were able to knock a hole in the partition and get into the room where I was posted. Horrigan was killed. What were we to do? We were pinned like rats in a hole. Already the Zulus were fiercely trying to burst in through the doorway. The only way of escape was the wall itself by making a hole big enough for a man to crawl through into an adjoining room, and so on until we got to our inmost entrenchment outside. Williams worked desperately at the wall with the navvy's pick, which I had been using to make some of the loopholes with.
"All this time the Zulus were trying to get into the room. Their assegais kept whizzing towards us, and one struck me in front of the helmet. We were wearing the white tropical helmets then. But the helmet tilted back under the blow and made the spear lose its power, so that I escaped with a scalp wound which did not trouble me much then, although it has often caused me illness since. Only one man at a time could get in at the door. A big Zulu sprang forward and seized my rifle, but I tore it free and, slipping a cartridge in, I shot him point-blank. Time after time the Zulus gripped the muzzle and tried to tear the rifle from my grasp, and time after time I wrenched it back, because I had a better grip than they had. All this time, Williams was getting the sick through the hole into the next room, all except one, a soldier of the 24th named Conley, who could not move because of a broken leg. Watching for my chance I dashed from the doorway, and grabbing Conley I pulled him after me through the hole. His leg got broken again, but there was no help for it. As we left the room the Zulus burst in with furious cries of disappointment and rage.
"Now there was a repetition of the work of holding the doorway, except that I had to stand by a hole instead of a door, while Williams picked away at the far wall to make an opening for escape into the next room. There was more desperate and almost hopeless fighting, as it seemed, but most of the poor fellows were got through the hole. Again I had to drag Conley through, a terrific task because he was a very heavy man. We were now all in a little room that gave upon the inner line of defence which had been made. We (Williams and Robert Jones and William Jones and myself) were the last men to leave the hospital, after most of the sick and wounded had been carried through the small window and away from the burning building; but it was impossible to save a few of them, and they were butchered. Privates William Jones and Robert Jones during all this time were doing magnificent work in another ward which faced the hill. They kept at it with bullet and bayonet until six of the seven patients had been removed. They would have got the seventh, Sergeant Maxfield, out safely, but he was delirious with fever and, although they managed to dress him, he refused to move. Robert Jones made a last rush to try to get him away like the rest, but when he got back into the room he saw that Maxfield was being stabbed by the Zulus as he lay on his bed. Corporal Allen and Private Hitch helped greatly in keeping up communication with the hospital. They were both badly wounded, but when they could not fight any longer they served out ammunition to their comrades throughout the night
"As we got the sick and wounded out they were taken to a verandah in front of the storehouse, and Dr Reynolds under a heavy fire and clouds of assegais, did everything he could for them. All this time, of course, the storehouse was being valiantly defended by the rest of the garrison. When we got into the inner fort, I took my post at a place where two men had been shot. While I was there another man was shot in the neck, I think by a bullet which came through the space between two biscuit boxes that were not quite close together. This was at about six o'clock in the evening, nearly two hours after the opening shot of the battle had been fired. Every now and then the Zulus would make a rush for it and get in. We had to charge them out. By this time it was dark, and the hospital was all in flames, but this gave us a splendid light to fight by. I believe it was this light that saved us. We could see them coming, and they could not rush us and take us by surprise from any point They could not get at us, and so they went away and had ten or fifteen minutes of a war-dance. This roused them up again, and their excitement was so intense that the ground fairly seemed to shake. Then, when they were goaded to the highest pitch, they would hurl themselves at us again.
"The long night passed and the day broke. Then we looked around us to see what had happened, and there was not a living soul who was not thankful to find that the Zulus had had enough of it and were disappearing over the hill to the south-west. Orders were given to patrol the ground, collect the arms of the dead blacks, and make our position as strong as possible in case of fresh attacks.
"One of the first things I did was to go up to the man who was still looking over our breastworks with his rifle presented to the spot where so many of the Zulus had been. I went up to him, and saw that he did not move, and that he looked very quiet. I went nearer and said 'Hello, what are you doing here?' He made no answer, and did not stir. I went still closer, and something in his appearance made me tilt his helmet back, as you sometimes tilt back a hat when you want to look closely into a face. As I did so I saw a bullet-mark in his forehead, and knew that he was dead.
"I went away, and was walking up the dry bed of a little stream near the drift with my own rifle in my right hand and a bunch of assegais over my left shoulder. Suddenly I came across an unarmed Zulu lying on the ground, apparently dead but bleeding from the leg. Thinking it strange that a dead man should bleed, I hesitated, and wondered whether I should go on, as other Zulus might be lurking about. But I resumed my task. Just as I was passing, the supposed dead man seized the butt of my rifle and tried to drag it away. The bunch of assegais rattled to earth.
"The Zulu suddenly released his grasp of the rifle with one hand, and with the other fiercely endeavoured to drag me down. The fight was short and sharp; but it ended by the Zulu being struck in the chest with the butt and knocked to the ground. The rest was quickly over.
"There was no time to sit down and mope, and there were the sick and wounded as well as the rest to look after. So when the Commander-in-Chief arrived I was back at my cooking in my shirtsleeves, making tea for the sick. A sergeant ran up and said, 'Lieutenant Bromhead wants you.' 'Wait till I put my coat on,' I said. 'Come as you are, straight away,' he ordered, and with my braces hanging about me, I went into the midst of the officers. Lord Chelmsford asked me all about the defence of the hospital, as I was the last to leave the building. An officer took our names, and wrote down what we had done. When the relief had come up the men of the column were sent out to bury the Zulus. There were 351 dead blacks counted, and these were put into two big holes in front of the hospital. The column made the Kaffirs who were with them dig the trenches, but although they dug the holes they positively refused to bury the bodies. There were only a few badly wounded left, as the Zulus had carried off their wounded as they retired. A great many dead were found in a mealie field not far from the hospital.
"As for our own comrades, we buried them. This was done the day after the fight, not far from the place where they fell, and at the foot of the hill. Soon afterwards the cemetery was walled in and a monument was put up in the middle. The lettering was cut on it by a bandsman named Mellsop, who used bits of broken bayonets as chisels. He drew a capital picture of the fight. Those who had been killed in action were buried on one side of the cemetery, and those who had died of disease on the other side. A curious thing was that a civilian named Byrne, who had taken part in the defence and was killed, was buried outside the cemetery wall. I don't know why, except that he was not a regular soldier."
PRIVATE HENRY HOOK, 24th REGIMENT FEBRUARY 1905

So there you go - Henry Hook remembered a civilian named Byrne.
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