NEWTOWNSANDES ONLINE
World War 1 Local Deaths
Maurice Hannon Lixnaw, 6488 d 10 November 1917
William Danaher Listowel 7529, d 19 July 1917.
Tim Galvin Brosna, 17873, d 17 January 1917
John Barry, Listowel, 7579, 2nd Battalion Irish guards, killed in action in France on the 17th March 1917.
Wiliam T Blundel, 64871, Listowel, d 21st April 1917
Pat Bunyan, Listowel, 7047, d 10th November 1917,
William Burke, listowel, 3591, d 10 November 1917,
Edward Carmody, Listowel, 5639, d 4th May 1917,
John Cleary, Listowel, d 1st May 1917, aged 27
Samuel Whitaker, 19059, Tarbert, d 26th September 1916
Fr, Donal o Sullivan, Chaplin, d 5th July 1916, some,
Pat Pierce, 3970, Dysert, d 28th June 1916,
William Nolan, Ballylongford, 5408, 5th August 1916.
Edward Nolan, Cahirciveen, d 26th June 1916,
Maurice o Connell, 4969, d France 21st August 1916,
Michael Lynch, Tarbert, 6446, d 1st June 1916,
Michael McAulife, Listowel, d 1916,
James Smyth, Listowel, d November 1917,
John Sullivan, Listowel, 40918, d 25th October 1917,
Michael Sullivan, 13971, Lixnaw, d 26th September 1917,
William o Boyle, 10491, Ballybunion, d 2nd November 1917,
Paul McElligott, Listowel, 305434, d 12 August 1917, Africa
Michael Healy, Listowel, d 15th September 1917, India
John Hennessy, Listowel, 4794, d 31st July 1917,
Charles Hewson, Listowel, d 12th April 1917, Cameroon,
John Kelliher, Kerry, 5266, d 12th October 1917,
John Kirby, Listowel, 22751, d 3rd May 1917,
Edward Lacey, Listowel, 4782, d 22nd July 1917,
Bernard Gibney, Listowel, 24640, 19th April 1917,
Christopher Godfrey, Listowel, 6428, 22nd September 1917,
Robert Charles Hudson, Canada, Tralee, d 17th October 1918,
Denis Daly, Listowel, 1576, d 26th December 1918,
Michael Dee, Coolard, 1296, d 20th October 1918,
Maurice Downes, 241264, Listowel, d 23 March 1918,
John Enright, Listowel, 2148, d 29th September 1918,
William Fitzmaurice, Tarbert, 6486, d 21 March 1918,
James Cannavan Listowel 498714 , d 10 Oct 1918.
Michael Sheehy Sgt, Duagh, d 9th July 1918.
Michael Stack Listowel 4516 d 8-4-1918wounds.
John Sullivan 4279 d 30 Sept 1918.
J Byrne Listowel 3644, d 1918.
Jeremiah Leahy Lixnaw 7298 d 10-1-1918.
Wilson Mc Cracken Listowel d12th Oct 1918 no 20170.
KENNELLY MARGUERITE AMY
KENNELLY, MARGUERITE AMY, was born in New York City. Her father, Bryan Laurence Kennelly, was a son of William Kennelly, a native of County Tipperary, Ireland, who located in New York City in 1843. His mother was a Nagle of County Cork, of a family allied to that of Edmund Burke, whose mother's maiden name was Nagle. An ancestor, James Nagle, was Secretary for Ireland under James II. Bryan L. Kennelly married, in America, Elizabeth Waterhouse. Her grandfather, Oscar Hoyt, was descended from a colonist of that name who settled in Massachusetts during the seventeenth century.
Marguerite Amy Kennelly attended Miss Spence's school, in New York City, where she completed the course in May, 1914. Upon the entrance of the United States into the World War Miss Kennelly went to France, and there joined the motor corps of the American Fund for French wounded.
Her Story
The week beginning March 25, 1918, was a busy one for all of us. With the offensive starting and the big Bertha going for all she was worth, the people of Paris just held their breath wondering what was coming next. The atmosphere was indescribably tense. Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday were as still as death. About the middle of the week, the Red Cross asked us (American Fund for French Wounded) if we would help with the clothing and transportation of the refugees. The Gare du Nord, where the refugees arrived from the devastated regions, was one of the busiest places in all Paris those days. As soon as the refugees came off the trains, they were taken down to the cave or cellar of the station, where they were given food first of all, and then clothing. The cave is about the length of a city block, with the canteen and the vestaire in one corner and a double row of beds and a long table occupying the remaining space. The place was the scene of many a tragedy; babies were born there, old and young died there, and if the walls could speak they could tell of all the hardships these people suffered. Their courage was wonderful, and I scarcely ever heard them complain. I was detailed to drive a camionette for the transportation of the old and sick refugees to hospitals and stations whence they were sent to relatives and friends in the south of France. One of the worst cases I remember was transporting a woman from Arras who had both her legs cut off. She had just come from burying her husband when an obus struck the house and something fell on her, cutting off both legs. From the agony she was in, I gather [p.154] their flight was made almost immediately after the disaster. This much of the story was told me, between sobs, by her daughter, a girl of about my own age, who had come all the way from Arras with her mother. She said she was the only daughter, and had two brothers at the front. The gendarmes carried the woman out on a stretcher, and laid her at full length in the camion, while her daughter sat in front, beside me. I had to crawl all the way to the station as every little jar caused fresh suffering. Later I carried two old ladies to different stations, one of whom had all her wordly possessions wrapped in a handkerchief. She had never been out of her town before, and felt absolutely lost. She told me what good wages she had earned at home, and how happy and contented she had been, and when I left her at the station she kissed me on both cheeks in true French fashion. Another poor soul, who looked to be about eighty and did not seem to have all her wits about her, I transported the same day. She did not have a person in the world to go to, and I took her to one of our stations where such people were taken care of and sent out to a large camp somewhere south of Paris. All the way over to the station, she kept groaning, 'Oh Mon Dieu, how much further must I go, and what is to become of me!' The saddest case I had was that of a Flemish woman, eighty-two years old, who was put in our charge to take to the Belgian foyer. I say 'our,' because that morning my little French friend, Mlle. D'Envers, came along with me. She had lived in Belgium and spoke some Flemish, fortunately, as this old woman did not speak a word of French. I was afraid she would die before we reached our destination. All her papers of identification were stolen, and the people she lived with had gone off and left her. The English camp came to the rescue and carried her off in a motor. We left her at one of the stations to be sent off to a hospital in the country, and much to her relief a Belgian soldier took charge of her at the station. There were many other very sad cases, but these were the ones that made the most vivid impressions.
"The middle of June, our counter-offensive started and after that we had very few refugees, so the Fund decided to withdraw the camionette from the Gare du Nord. For a short time I delivered supplies to the different hospitals in Paris and its environs; then in the early part of October I was sent to Nancy and Lun�ville to drive for the disspensaries up there. Most of the French doctors in the country towns were militarized, leaving the civilians without any relief in case of illness. At first the A.R.C. took over this work and established dispensaries all through the Toul sector, and when they withdrew the civilian relief the Fund carried on the work with the assistance of the Red Cross doctors. While there were not many cases of serious illness throughout this section of the country, we found that the dispensaries did much for the hygiene and morals of the peasants. They were very fond of the Americans, had great confidence in the doctors, and would do just as they were told. Lun�ville was only eight miles from the front, and about three weeks before the Armistice was signed we saw the preparations for the great offensive that was to have started there, had the Germans refused to come to terms. Trainload after trainload of supplies passed through the town, and a steady stream of camions filled the roads on their way to the front lines. We knew that something big was about to happen, but absolute secrecy was maintained by both the soldiers and the officials. It was not until after the eleventh that we learned that the attack would have started the following morning, and Foch, himself would have directed it and made Lun�ville his headquarters. On the day of the eleventh, we had a wonderful celebration and went right up to the front line trenches on the shell swept road to Bathlemont, and saw the monument erected to the first American boys who fell in the war, in 1917. As we went along the road we saw the shell holes just freshly made, probably a few [p.155] days previous. We also saw the graves of our boys, and while we were there skyrockets fell just in front of us; it was a beautiful sight to see the whole country lighted up for miles around. A few days after the Armistice, the first English prisoners drifted through the lines; I say drifted because the prisoners told us that the German guard had run away before delivering them to the French guard, leaving them to shift for themselves without a particle of food or any idea as to where they were going. Many of them got lost in the barbed wire, and others fell by the way. Those that finally reached us were in a dreadful condition; their clothing was in rags, not having been changed since they were taken prisoners in April; their eyes were sunken in their heads; yet in all their misery they marched down the street singing Keep the Home Fires Burning.
Our dispensary was big enough to be used as a small hospital, and we took many of them in for the night. The doctor gave up his clinics and devoted all his time to the prisoners, who were sadly in need of attention. They had had practically nothing to eat but hard bread and barley water, so at first few of them could retain any food. A number of them were brought to the house unconscious, and I remember one man who remained in this condition for three days, They told of the hardships in the German prisons and the cruel treatment of the guards. If any of the German civilians threw them food to eat and they refused to tell who gave it to them, they were starved for thirty-six hours and often whipped, while the civilian who threw the food was imprisoned. We helped the foyer de soldat feed the prisoners and finally the English aviation camp near us heard that they were there and sent two camions full of food for Doctor Percy to distribute to the men. About 1,500 came through in one week, and were sent from Lun�ville to a camp in Nancy, and from there straight through to Calais and England.�
Upon her return from France in December, 1918, Miss Kennelly joined the Red Cross Motor Corps, and helped in New York City in the transportation of the wounded and the casual officers. Before she devoted all her attention to war services, Miss Kennelly was active in the Parish work of St. Patrick's Cathedral, and for two years was President of the Cathedral Girls' Club.