On a sunny morning in Rome on 12 June, the band of the Royal Irish Regiment marched into St Peter’s Square to mark the eightieth anniversary of when 150 men of 38 (Irish) Brigade – including my father Colour Sergeant Ted O’Sullivan – met Pope Pius XII in the Vatican.
It was the first papal audience granted to Allied troops following the liberation of Rome eight days earlier. It was an unforgettable moment for my father and he often spoke about it. We still have the blessing document he received from the Pope.
After the general audience this year, Pope Francis greeted the delegation I was with from the Royal Irish and 38 (Irish) Brigade and enjoyed the band playing Killaloe, the Irish marching tune.
The end of the Nazi occupation of Rome 80 years ago was a double liberation. It freed Italy’s capital and marked the start of the country’s slow and painful economic and political reconstruction. And the Vatican, under blockade for almost eight months, was once again free to resume its mission to Italy and to the world.
It was a turning point in Italian history that was to be followed by the end of the war in Europe 11 months later and the start of a new era.
For the Allies, the liberation of Rome was evidence that victory was in sight. The previous week, the landings in Normandy had taken place. Hitler’s defeat was to be inescapable.
The audience for the Irish Brigade in June 1944 was an exceptional expression of Irish unity in the middle of history’s most terrible conflict. Men who were there came from what is now the Republic of Ireland, Northern Ireland and Irish communities across Britain.
The brigade’s commander Pat Scott had insisted that there should be no sectarian divisions in the men selected to meet the pope. My father was a faithful Catholic born to a large and impecunious London Irish family in Peckham. Among his companions in 1944 was a sergeant major from Sion Mills in Tyrone who proudly wore the sash of the Orange Order.
Pope Pius spoke to them simply but powerfully.
“Dearly beloved sons, we bid you welcome,” he said. “You belong to the nation which has ever belonged to God’s church since St Patrick. We are well aware of the good which the Irish have done in spreading the faith from the shores of their green isle…into many nations. We greet you and bless you with all our hearts’ affection and your dear ones at home. God be with you always…”
The massed bands of the Irish Brigade parade in St Peter’s Square on 12 June 1944.
The event in Rome this year was part of a series marking pivotal events in the Second World War. On 6 June, heads of government had gathered to celebrate the eightieth anniversary of D-Day. In September, there will be commemorations for the Battle of Arnhem. Next year the end of the war in Europe will be memorialised on 8 May, and Victory in Japan Day will be on 15 August.
There have been other commemorations. On 18 May, Poland’s President Andrzej Duda visited the cemetery at Monte Cassino to mark the capture of the abbey by Polish soldiers. The following day the Duchess of Edinburgh was in Cassino for an event for British and Commonwealth soldiers.
On 15 June, the Bishop of the Armed Forces Paul Mason led a thanksgiving service to mark the liberation of Rome in the Cathedral Church of St Michael and St George in Aldershot which was addressed by Archbishop Miguel Buendia, the apostolic nuncio to Great Britain.
But as moving as these events may be, more and more questions will be asked about their future. Most eyewitnesses of the events between 1939 and 1945 like my father have now gone. It won’t be long before their children will fade away too.
How relevant is the martial nature of war remembrance to younger generations for whom the Second World War is dusty history?
There is, nevertheless, a persisting resonance. On 14 May, I accompanied Alan Mayo on his first visit to the grave of his grandfather Sergeant Edward Mayo of the London Irish Rifles, who was killed 80 years ago and is buried at the Cassino war cemetery. He was my father’s closest war-time friend and he never forgot him. We shall continue to work to ensure their story of courage and resilience is preserved and honoured.
But there is a wider purpose. The eightieth anniversary next year of the end of the Second World War is an opportunity to refresh our approach to remembrance to make it relevant to the times and the future.
In hindsight, we can see that May 1945 was not the end, but the beginning; the start of an era of peace that those we remember paid for.
Perhaps Victory in Europe Day should henceforth be known as Peace in Europe Day, a moment to be celebrated by all with joy.
Edmund O’Sullivan is a London-based author and writer. He is vice chairman of the Freedom for Italy network, an international initiative developing new ways to commemorate events in Italy in 1943-45.
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