No more cheerful regiments than the Irish are to be found in the firing line.  Their humor in the trenches, their love of songs, and their dash in action are manifested in all their letters.  An English soldier, writing home, says that even in the midst of a bayonet charge an Irishman can always raise a laugh.  “Look at thim divils retratin’ with their backs facin’ us,” was an Irish remark about the Germans that made his fellows roar.  And when the Fusiliers heard the story of the Kaiser’s lucky shamrock, one of them said:  “Sure, an’ it’ll be moighty lucky for him if he doesn’t lose it”; adding to one of three comrades, “There’ll be a leaf apiece for us, Hinissey, when we get to Berlin.”

In the fighting the Irish have done big things and their dash and courage have filled their British and French comrades with admiration.  Referring to the first action in which the Irish Guards took part, and the smart businesslike way in which they cut up the Germans, Private Heffernan, Royal Irish Fusiliers, says they had a great reception as they marched back into the lines:  “Of course, we all gave them a cheer, but it would have done your heart good to see the Frenchmen (who had a good view of the fighting) standing up in their trenches and shouting like mad as the Guards passed by.  The poor chaps didn’t like the idea that it was their first time in action, and were shy about the fuss made of them:  and there was many a row in camp that night over men saying fine things and reminding them of their brand new battle honors."[D]

A fine story is told of the heroism of two Irish Dragoons by a trooper of that gallant regiment.  “One of our men,” he says, “carried a wounded comrade to a friendly farm-house under heavy fire, and when the retreat was ordered both were cut off.  A patrol of a dozen Uhlans found them there and ordered them to surrender, but they refused, and, tackling the Germans from behind a barricade of furniture, killed or wounded half of them.  The others then brought up a machine gun and threatened the destruction of the farm:  but the two dragoons, remembering the kindness of the farm owners and unwilling to bring ruin and disaster upon them, rushed from the house in the wild hope of tackling the gun.  The moment they crossed the doorway they fell riddled with bullets.”  Another story of the Irish Dragoons is told by Trooper P. Ryan.  One of the Berkshires had been cut off from his regiment while lingering behind to bid a dying chum good-by, when he was surrounded by a patrol of Uhlans.  A troop of the Irish Dragoons asked leave of their officer to rescue the man, and sweeping down on the Germans, quickly scattered them.  But they were too late.  The plucky Berkshire man had “gone under,” taking three Germans with him.  “We buried him with his chum by the wayside,” adds Trooper Ryan.  “Partings of this kind are sad, but they are everyday occurrences in war, and you just have to get used to them.”