Liverpudlian heroes unnoticed in the crowd

Sep 15 2008 by David Charters, Liverpool Daily Post

From glory to destitution, life was often cruel for Liverpool’s bravest of the brave, as a new book about VCs tells us. David Charters reports

HE WAS just a cripple hobbling down the old road in a threadbare coat. "Poor fella," said the few through frosted breath. But most didn’t even notice him in the bustle of the day and he vanished from view, still limping.

The trouble is that brave men rarely look like heroes. Movie stars look like heroes. But most people, who are really brave, look like the rest of us, faces lost in the crowd.

True valour and the romantic picture of heroism have never had much in common.

James Murphy knows that, as can be read in his latest book, which tells of how 23 Liverpudlians received the Victoria Cross for gallantry in various actions from the Crimean War to World War One.

Of course, you shake your head in admiration when reading of those crazy moments of courage, which led to them being so decorated, and then comes that soul-shaving question. What would I have done in similar circumstances?

Even more fascinating, however, is what these men did before and after they received Britain’s highest military award for bravery. Although some held the praise of a grateful nation, others died broken, forgotten and often cursed.

Here, James is excellent, writing about his subjects with verve and sympathy, as well as the authority you would expect from an academic.

Maybe this is not so surprising. The experiences of life make the writer, and James spent his formative years observing the quiet bravery of his parents on the home front. They, with kindness, dedication, good books at the hearth, and prayers, guided all their 15 children through infancy, primary school and then the 11- plus examination and into grammar schools – at the time regarded as a passport to success by ambitious parents.

The significance of that achievement might not be immediately apparent to the modern generation, but it was huge.

If it had not been for them, James, 62, would have had very little chance of becoming a published author with a master’s degree in psychology.

His late father, Michael Murphy, whose forbears came from Mullaghbawn, Armagh, was a scrap dealer married to Laura Gomez of Spanish descent, now 91.

They married in 1937 and their children are, in order of age, Cecilia, Mary, Michael, Francis, Laura, James, Rita, Susan, Eamon, Cormack, Patrick, Daniel, Eugene, Therese and John.

At first, they lived in a three- bedroom terraced house in Worcester Road, Bootle, before moving to a more spacious house on nearby Merton Road. All the boys passed into St Mary’s College, Crosby, and the girls to Notre Dame College, Liverpool.

James, who now lives in Barrow-in-Furness, spent two years studying dentistry at Birmingham University, but gave that up to become a teacher here and abroad. He also worked in the oil industry. In the 1970s, he was awarded his MA in psychology at Leeds University, marrying Jane Lee in 1977. They have a son and three daughters.

With leftward political leanings, James joined the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, which was vehemently opposed to the nuclear submarine programme at Vickers shipyard in Barrow. Experiences from those times inspired his trilogy – or "tree- ology" to his old mum – of anti- war, spy thrillers, Cedar, Juniper and Ash.