Probably unknown nowadays, in my youth, Father Willie Doyle, shown above in his Army Chaplain uniform, was a revered figure among the ordinary Dublin people. Born in Dalkey, he joined the Jesuit order and was an outstanding preacher on the missions both in Ireland and England.

When the Great War (1914-1918) broke out he volunteered as an Army Chaplain with the Dublin Fusiliers. On 16 August 1917, together with thousands of his beloved ‘boys’, he was killed at Pashendaele– a name synonymous with slaughter.

For years, not a week passed without his name appearing in the thanksgiving notices of the ‘Evening Mail’. Many favours were attributed to his intercession and I know he saved my life on at least two occasions. Hopefully, this may revive devotion to this martyred priest.

He helped his ‘boys’– those boys he loved so well
Amidst the whistling shots and bursting shell,
Far more than chaplain was he– more a friend
He shared their pain and dangers to the end.
Beloved by all his ‘boys’, he loved them too
Their troubles eased, their fears and hopes he knew
When danger threatened, ever by their side
To whisper words of comfort as they died.

The prudent counselled him, they said ‘be wise’
But he shrugged off advice, for where his ‘boys’
Fell dead and dying, there his duty lay
Until he too like them, met death one day.
He loved his ‘boys’ in life, and now he lies
With them beneath the foreign Belgian skies
Now gone forever, gone to rest a while
Friend to the Fusiliers, God’s Chaplain Willie Doyle.