My neighbour, the Catholic war hero

Growing up in Liverpool James Murphy was surrounded by inspiring examples of duty and sacrifice
As a child growing up in Liverpool in the aftermath of the Second World War every boy I knew would boast a hero in the family, an ancient granddad, a father, uncle or elder brother, who had won a medal for bravery, if not in that conflict, then certainly during the Great War. The craic was of the Victoria Cross and the George Medal, and the derring-do of family members; and after school, we played with redundant gas masks, scoured bombsites for shrapnel and fought their battles among the rubble. Exaggerated though it was. hero-worship and the game of one-upmanship in that era was played over giants in military uniform, hardy men at sea and a doughty civilian population which had defied blockades and blitzes.
In school, the heroes were more prosaic, remote, men and women who had fought and died in centuries past to establish the faith in Britain, and to re-establish it after the Reformation. Hardly a day went by without the name of a martyr being invoked to quell an unruly and ungrateful mob of revolting schoolchildren. But our thoughts were always elsewhere, among the crash and thunder of the guns.
No member of my family was honoured individually in the two world wars, and tall though some of the tales were that I heard in my youth, my own particular boast could be proved and was never bested: I lived next door to a hero, a holder of the Victoria Cross; and I could knock on his door any time and ask to see his honour; or point him out at Sunday Mass in St Winifred's church, Bootle. He was my hero, close and immediate, and a man of the times; and he sparked in me a life-long interest in other men from Liverpool who had won Britain's, and arguably the world's, most prestigious award for gallantry.
My hero's name was Gabriel George Coury; and he was one of 23 courageous Liverpudlians granted the honour of the Victoria Cross for bravery under fire on the battlefield. Born in 1896 in Toxteth. he served his country in both world wars. He was a noncombatant initially in the Great War, a lieutenant in the Pioneer Corps, given the task of digging the trenches which made up the Western Front. On the Somme in August 1916 he went out unarmed into no-man's-land under heavy enemy fire to rescue a wounded officer, an action which merited the award of the Victoria Cross. For the remainder of the war he served as a pilot with Royal Flying Corps. and survived two crashes which left him partially incapacitated and badly scarred with burns. Undaunted by these experiences, he landed in France during the DDay invasion of Europe at the age of 48, a lieutenant in the Royal Army Service Corps, and saw out the end of the Second World War in Germany.
His trade of cotton broker disappeared after the war and, out of work, and with a wife and three daughters to support, he reinvented himself as a caterer, opening a chippy in the city centre from where he sold the best fish and chips in the district. Many a young lad, clutching a couple of coppers, would ask for a bag of chips flavoured with a tale from the Western Front; and Gabriel Coury VC would always oblige. A sociable and affable man, he loved life and enjoyed it to the full. Never disheartened or dismayed by misfortune, he employed a wonderful humour, sometimes at his own expense, to overcome his tribulations. He gladly and readily espoused the virtues of duty and sacrifice, which were informed and led by his staunch commitment to the Catholic faith: his heroes were the men and women of centuries past whom I learned of in the classroom.
His final battle was in 1956. Diagnosed with cancer, he fought the illness for a year with the same indomitable spirit which had carried him across no-man's land 40 years earlier; and he still managed a joke right up to the end, Comforted by the Last Rites, he passed away on February 23 and is buried in the Coury family plot in the graveyard of the Church of SS Peter and Paul, Crosby, Gabriel Coury VC was educated at St Francis Xavier School in Salisbury Street in the heart of the city and later attended Stonyhurst College, the Jesuit school in the Ribble Valley, Lancashire. Another Liverpudlian, Paul Aloysius Kenna, had passed along the same educational path some 30 years earlier, and he, too, was a holder of the Victoria Cross.
Paul Kenna was born in Everton in 1862. Noted from an early age for his piety and devotion to his faith, which he never lost, his vocation could have been the Church — his mother's brother and uncle were parish priests in County Durham. Instead, he became a professional soldier and attended the Royal Military College, Sandhurst, where he distinguished himself as an exceptional horseman. Commissioned Lieutenant, he won the Victoria Cross in 1898 during his first military venture, saving the life of a fellow-officer at the Battle of Omdurman.
He saw action throughout the Boer War and again covered himself in glory, earning a second honour, Companion of the Distinguished Service Order. In the lull before the storm of the Great War erupted, he further honed his great skill with the horse to become the foremost rider of his day, captaining British equestrian teams in England, America and Europe, and at the 1912 Olympic Games in Stockholm.
Paul Kenna VC DSO commanded the Notts and Derby Mounted Brigade during the Great War and in 1915 landed with his unit at Suvla Bay, on the western shores of the Gallipoli peninsula. On Sunday, August 29, as that disastrous campaign ground to a halt, he heard Mass and received Communion as usual, before going out to inspect the front lines. He was shot and mortally wounded by a sniper's bullet. Stretcher-bearers carried him to the field hospital, and his first request was for a priest and a scapular. Fortified by the rites of the Church, he died in the early hours of the following morning. His body was interred at the La Bala Military Cemetery and he rests, far from home, beneath a headstone carved with a replica of his Victoria Cross and the inscription: "On whose soul sweet Jesus have mercy. May he rest in peace."
Time moves on, memories fade and values change. Nowadays, the heroes of Liverpool are drawn from the arenas of football and pop music. They are entertainers and celebrities; and these modernday gallants have been feted and eulogised in the festivities celebrating Liverpool's turn as the European City of Culture. But scant attention has been paid to the likes of men such as Coury and Kenna, and the other Liverpool men who hold the nation's highest honour, and who are a pan of the city's heritage. But they would not have minded: an abiding modesty and a refusal to be singled out and lionised for what they had accomplished characterised all those brave men. Duty and sacrifice came with mother's milk.
A special day in 2008 is set aside to remember these heroes, and all others, a day that has been marked annually throughout the country since 1918: Remembrance Day. A red poppy on a grave and a whispered prayer of thanks are all they would ask for.
James Murphy is the author of Liverpool VCs (Pen & Sword Military, 19.99)