The Wartime Irish Marine Service: The first-hand experiences of broadcaster Norris Davidson was published in 2023. I can heartily recommend it to anyone with an interest in Irish history, the Emergency era or the sea.

Daire Brunicardi wrote the foreword to this, which gives a very clear but brief overview of the Marine Service throughout the Emergency. But its richness is in the first-person account from Norris Davidson that is the wow factor in this work We journey with Davidson from a holiday on the Aran Islands in the summer of 1939 all the way through the Emergency to 1945 and his experiences in defending Irish neutrality.

Marine and Coast Watching Service

Davidson was from a well-healed background and had even gone to Cambridge, but he had strong convictions and at the outbreak of war in September 1939, while many of his class went to join the English forces, Norris headed to Dublin. His passion was for joining what was then only a rumour of an Irish naval force. In the hopes of making it into the ranks, he opted first to join the Marine and Coast Watching Service, being stationed at Wicklow Head. Here we get a fascinating account of the role, its practical applications and what was done when anything exciting was spotted – and how they survived the tedium of watching!

Haulbowline

He went from this to Collins Barracks in Dublin, given the rank of Chief Petty Officer, and settled into his new routine, waiting for orders to be sent to a new naval base – but where? Rumours abounded. While waiting, he took on duties as a member of the Port Control Party operating in Dublin port – a role I have to admit I knew of, but knew very little detail of. Eventually, they were told to get packing, and it was finally announced they were heading south in Convoy to Haulbowline, where they got the base ship shape. He eventually got to sea aboard a ship he held great affection for – the Muirchu. He later transferred to MTB’s and gave a fabulous account of their handling, and a great first-hand description of the destruction of mines from their decks by rifle fire.

Muirchu

One chapter that stood out for me is his description of the Muirchu ex Helga and the Grá he held for the vessel.  He shows that he has a powerful understanding of what it is to have a boat, or belong to one, and how, in depending on it, it almost becomes part of you. There are many lines in that chapter that I admire. But I think his musing on the critics of a craft is a beauty – “…to laugh at a man’s ship- even a harbour dredger- is to show oneself as being dismally bogged down in the earth” How many times have I shaken my head at such ignoramuses.

Waterford Harbour

Many other sections stood out, but from a local perspective, he gives a glowing report on his visit to Waterford city by ship, he describes a fondness and almost a romantic appreciation of Passage East, and also mentions the minefield at Ballyhack and provides an anecdote that I had never heard before.

Highly recommended reading

What is fantastic about this book is that it is a first-person account of someone who was there, with a keen eye and a great turn of phrase. Norris doesn’t sugarcoat the journey, although he has an obvious great regard and sympathy for his comrades afloat. His remarks at the close of the war and the treatment of those who had rushed to their country’s defence on questionably seaworthy ships are telling, particularly in the respect shown to seafarers and in the lack of planning, policy, or foresight that is as clearly evident today.

I don’t know the author personally, but the fact that he took Davidson’s papers into safekeeping and found the resolve to publish them speaks to a man of great integrity. Having published two books myself, I understand the effort it takes—but in my case, it was for my own writing. Publishing is much like a swan gliding across the water: the graceful image is visible to all, but the hard work beneath the surface remains unseen.

I can only imagine that Brunicardi either held Davidson in the highest regard or recognised the importance of his work within the history of the Irish Naval Service—or, more likely, both. After all, official recognition of the Naval Service, or indeed of almost anyone who works at sea in this country, has been little more than disregard.

For me, what makes Davidson’s work so powerful is not any attempt at grandstanding or preaching, but rather his simple and honest account of those early days at sea, protecting our neutrality. Too often, people fail to grasp the realities of maritime life, imagining it to be somehow comparable to a shore-based job. In truth, it is nothing of the kind. Yet as a nation, we persist in pretending otherwise.

The Wartime Irish Marine Service; The first-hand experiences of broadcaster Norris Davidson by Daire Brunicardi is availble to buy online from the History Press for £17.99