Frank Speaking relates to the unfinished First World War memoir of Royal Dublin Fusilier Francis Morrow Laird, which I transcribed. I added context and also narrative to finish his story, by reference to battalion war diaries and other primary sources.

I have added notes in nearly every chapter of the memoir, but have made no attempt to provide a narrative, let alone detailed analysis, of the Great War as a whole, or even individual battles, nor of political events that I may have touched upon.

The book (with end papers) is 371 pages, including designed (orientation only) maps by Lyndsay Knight, other maps (possibly not as many as some readers might like), images, bibliography and index.  It has just over 50K of Frank’s words and just under 60K of words added by me.  It is a hardback book, blue board with a dust jacket designed by Lyndsay Knight and has a ribbon marker (I love the ribbon marker!)

How did Frank Speaking come about?  It began with the publication, in 1926, by May Laird of her husband’s memoir of his experiences during the period 1914 -1918.  I don’t know how many copies were circulated by May, but judging by how few copies have ever been available for purchase subsequently (plus the price) I would say very few.

The next stage in the evolution of Frank Speaking was when I was researching my previous book, about a military chaplain, and Frank’s name came up on several occasions. I concluded from the quotes I read that Frank was equally an engaging writer as Fr Doyle, albeit with a more understated style of writing and wry humour, and that he could be my next project.

Moving on, the next (unexpected) step was the acquisition (a gift) of a physical copy of Frank’s memoir, albeit it has been digitalised and is available online:-

https://www.irishfamilyhistorycentre.com/store/703

Frank Laird’s early demise, aged 45 in 1925, meant that he never finished his memoir, but the absent timeline has been completed by me.  However, the missing section was not at the end of his service but roughly halfway through.  He had started by writing about the last eleven months, before reverting to the beginning of his service.

Frank was a mild-mannered civil servant in his mid-thirties when he signed up to take the King’s shilling in 1914 as a private soldier.  He saw action at Gallipoli, witnessed events of the Easter Rising while on home duty in Dublin, then was commissioned and served in Flanders.  In the spring of 1918 he became a Prisoner of War after being wounded during a counter-attack on the Somme, this being the third serious wound he had sustained in the course of his service.  He was promoted to lieutenant in his absence as a guest of the Kaiser.

A contemporary wrote of him some years after his death: “Francis Morrow Laird was one of those rare souls whom everybody liked.  His overflowing good humour was infectious … Rather slight in build and not of the athletic type, one could hardly imagine him a soldier, but when the call came he volunteered, and worthily upheld the traditions of his famous regiment, the Royal Dublin Fusiliers”.

In presenting Frank’s story, I also tried to tell a more rounded account of the men with whom he served.

Frank Speaking has been published by me i.e. I am the publisher as well as the editor/author of this book.  The most daunting part of being one’s own publisher is the expense involved.  It’s a bit like placing a bet at the “Bookies”, if you can’t afford to lose the money then best not to.  The clear advantage, for unknown authors, of being one’s own publisher is the level of control over the process.  Nowadays, with print on demand services, there is no need to pay for and have a huge stack of books stockpiled at home, hoping to make a big dent in the pile.

It takes some time to work out how to go about being your own publisher and sourcing a printer.  The printing company I chose is not close to my home, but having identified it as my probable printer of choice I made one visit to discuss my project.  This was, of course, when out of lockdown and they had Covid protocols in place.  Subsequently, everything else was done online, via email and with the occasional telephone call when things got a bit fraught!  How to explain to someone with no knowledge of your subject and how does that person convey their expertise to you, a layman?!  I did receive a physical copy of the book, also to proof, after I approved the PDF.

I have 50 copies of the book on order, priced at £20 for sale.  If I sold all 50 books, it would cover the printer’s invoice, with a bit of profit but, as I will be sending out complimentary review, legal deposit and “thank you” copies, that isn’t going to happen.  In addition, there were other one off costs such as the purchase of ISBN number. I am under no illusion that this is going to be a money spinner!

Those people who are kind enough to purchase a copy of Frank Speaking will see that the nominal profit will be split between me, the Great War Group and Great War Huts.  Please do visit their websites to see what *great* initiatives they have on offer. 

Please also look out for reviews – don’t worry I will let you know!

The cost of packaging (cardboard book wrap) and second class postage within the UK is £3.50.  I can investigate costs for posting abroad on request.  It would be great to get the book into Ireland, albeit Brexit has made things tricky in that regard (I should have pulled my finger out and published earlier!).  I’m still thinking about Amazon.

Please leave a comment on this blog, or DM me on Twitter or Messenger, if you would like to be added to the list of sales of the first batch of fifty. I hope there will be further batches!  Once we can gather again, I shall be taking the books to conferences etc to sell and outlets hopefully in Ieper.  

Now to start work on my next project, scaling down the large tome that is Worshipper and Worshipped (yes, it is far too big and yes, I did ignore all advice on the subject – but amazingly it still sold) to publish, renamed Chaplain and Correspondent aiming at less than 400 pages!  In the meantime, I look forward to feedback from those kind purchasers of Frank Speaking – warts and all (the warts will be mine, not Frank’s!)

A topical photograph!

Moving to an unpleasant note, noted by another chaplain, on 22^nd March 1917 a private of 36^th (Ulster) division was similarly employed in the military barbers at Locre (Ypres Salient) when a stray shell found its mark, with disastrous consequences for him.  Although well behind the front line, long range guns did occasionally penetrate the area around Mount Kemmel, including Locre, and the barber became a fatality that day. There are three burials at Kemmel Chateau Military Cemetery recording date of death as 22^nd March 1917 (the military cemeteries at Locre have no burials prior to June 1917) which is the date the battalion war diary for 8^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers records: “About 20-30 5.9s were sent into Locre during the afternoon between 2 and 3pm.”  Unfortunately, the private was killed by a shell fragment that came through the window as he was cutting the hair of an officer.  During 1917 16^th (Irish) and 36^th (Ulster) Divisions served side by side in the Ypres sector, mixing behind the lines, and two officers of the former division wrote about this incident.  The chaplain attached to 8^th Royal Dublin Fusiliers wrote home on the day it occurred and included the details of it in his letter.  It was also recalled post-war by a Second Lieutenant of the same battalion in his memoirs, albeit neither was in the barber shop at the time.

I believe that two of the 22^nd March 1917 burials could be discounted as the barber i.e. a skilled rifleman attached to a trench mortar battery and someone else was with another specialist unit, the Machine Gun Corps.  But it’s only a hunch on my part.  That leaves Private A. Graham, twenty-two year old son of Charles and Jane Graham of Ternascobe, Armagh.  Private Graham served with 9^th Royal Irish Fusiliers, 108^th Infantry Brigade, 36^th (Ulster) Division.  They were located at a camp near Locre that day and had paraded at 8.30 a.m. for platoon training, a day of snow and sleet.

Second Lieutenant Frank Laird remembered:-

“Two officers were there, one waiting and one having his hair cut by the private who officiated as barber, when a stray shell fell just outside the window, through which a piece came and took the barber’s head off.  Some days later I met the two officers who had had a few days in hospital to recover from shell shock.  The one who was being barbered said he put his hand up, and finding his head covered with blood and brains, concluded they were his own, a fact which he found difficult to reconcile with his being able to stagger out from the hut.”

Fr Willie Doyle, SJ, MC described something more dramatic, which was typical of the engaging letters he wrote home.

“… this morning an officer was sitting in the barber’s shop having his hair cut, not a thousand miles from where I am sitting now. Everything had been quiet for days, when suddenly the scream of a shell was heard from the enemy’s lines.  The officer had just remarked ‘That beastly shell is coming jolly near’ when he was flung to the other side of the hut and saw the barber’s head lying on the ground beside him; the shell had come smashing through the wall, killing the unfortunate man, taking his head off and only slightly wounding the officer”.

One assumes Second Lieutenant Laird’s version of a shell fragment, rather than the whole shell, is the correct version of events, otherwise there would have been more fatalities than just the one unfortunate man in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Here are the CWGC records for the three men who died that day and were buried in Kemmel Chateau Military Cemetery.

When we are at last free to travel to Belgium I shall visit Kemmel Chateau cemetery to pay the three men a visit. Also unluckily killed, in a similar manner to the barber, on 4th June 1917, whilst in Clare Camp close by, are two officers of 9th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, resting in Loker Churchyard, mentioned by Second Lieutenant Laird in his memoir:-

“One unlucky shell in the daytime fell near an old farmhouse at our corner of the camp, and caught Cooney and Marchant, two 2^ndLieutenants of the Dublins, killing both. They were the only casualties I think.  Marchant had been in the next cubicle to me at Divisional school, and Cooney had come out with me from Dublin, two decent chaps.”

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