Until now I had not heard about that particular piece of work but was immensely pleased to see comics do their bit. Doubly so seeing an old chum's name; Eoin Coveney on the art chores from back in the day. Eoin worked on a highly regarded History of Ireland with none other than the legendary Will Eisner overseeing. It was actually thanks to Eoin I got to meet the great man and I will never forget that. Every day in my house I see a piece of artwork he did for me; Denny Colt as The Spirit sharing the sage advice; "Do'nt Let The Bastards Grind You Down." Stirling advice from a knight of the medium.
There are three stories between its covers, Thomas Hughes a winner of the Victoria Cross medal. The highest honor and award for bravery in the British Army. There was also the story of Anne Acheson who was awarded a CBE for her revolutionary medical work during and after the conflict. Then there is also the heart breaking tale, told in letters sent home for his family, of seventeen year old Tommy chambers who dies on the first day of the battle of the Somme, 1st July 1916. Three stories echoing down the years lovingly retold by Stephen Mooney and Eoin Coveney.
Reading it I learned that Thomas Hughes died in 1942 here in Castleblaney and was buried in Broomfield which was not far feom where I was staying so I decided to seek out his grave and pay my respects.My sistet Anne and I drove out to Broomfield where we found the Chirch of Saint Josephs which we knew was quite close to the burial site. we actually found a graveyard high on a hill which I knew could not be the place. It was too modern, the headstones too recent. it was altogether the tidiest graveyard I had ever seen. As well as the steepest.
We soon found the right one, graveyard that is, not so far away, across the fields, through a gap in the trees, just about visible from the high slanted one in which in we stood. It was the very picture of an old Irish cemetery, with leaning crosses and gravestones so old the names on them were wiped smooth. Tall Celtic crosses, some carved from stone others wrought in metal, overhung by trees whose limbs and branches drooped with piney mushroomy pathways beneath your feet. We had to seek shelter under one of those trees as a squall blew up, the day was bright but windy with sudden cloudbursts. As we stepped from beneath its sheltering branches we saw Thomas Hughes well tended and lovingly enscribed headstone. Poppy wreaths had been lain on his grave in respect of his heroic deeds, things he accomplished in the very prime of his life. I paid my own respects and shuddered at the horrors he and his brave fellows endured and hoped that such days would never come again.
For Valor is a beautifully crafted tribute to a heroic breed, a lovely tribute in memory of the men and women we must never forget. Dark days long ago on fields not so far away.
