Beschreibung:

An extremely rare Great War group of three awarded to Private A. Newland, 12th Lancers, who died of wounds received in the 1916 Irish “Easter Rising 1914 Star, with clasp (5937 Pte., 12/Lrs.); British War and Victory Medals (12L-5937 Pte., 12-Lrs.), good very fine (3) £2000-2500 Footnote Albert Newland was born in Poplar, East London in 1885 and attested for the 12th Lancers prior to the Great War - he is known to have been serving in ‘D’ Squadron in 1909 but appears to have been on the Army Reserve at the outbreak of hostilities in August 1914. Be that as it may, he was embarked for France in early October 1914, where he joined his old regiment on 6 December. A week or two later, most probably as a result of sickness, he was taken out of the line, and eventually invalided to England in February 1916. Shortly thereafter, however, he joined the 6th Cavalry Reserve Regiment in Dublin, which posting led to his death through wounds received in the famous “Easter Uprising” on 24 April 1916. And those fatal wounds were almost certainly received in the following engagement described Max Caulfield in The Easter Rebellion: ‘Then, suddenly, into all this blundered the regular cavalry. A troop of the 5th and 12th Lancers, part of the 6th Cavalry Reserve Regiment stationed at Marlborough Barracks (Phoenix Park), had been sent down that morning to the North Wall railway terminus to escort a small ammunition convoy. Pearse and Connolly had just begun their march on the G.P.O. when the troop began trekking back along the quays, five low carts loaded with rifles, rifle grenades and bombs rumbling along noisily in their midst. Their lances bobbed disdainfully, their hooves clattered spiritedly. A small rebel party left behind in Liberty Hall to guard reserves of food and ammunition, watched a perfect target approaching, but Lieutenant Frank Thornton had been ordered to avoid action until the main forces of the Republic had consolidated themselves in the Post Office. To his chagrin, therefore, Thornton was forced to allow the convoy to pass. And unaware that behind the silent windows of Liberty Hall, rifle-barrels stood trained on them, the Lancers trekked proudly on. At O’Connell Bridge, rebel scouts acting under orders similar to Thornton’s, permitted them to pass without hindrance and a little arrogantly the troopers clattered across Lower Sackville Street; then, harness and accoutrements jingling martially, they made their way along Bachelor’s Walk. They had gone only a short distance when a man yelled at Second Lieutenant Hunter, officer-in-charge, “Look out for yourselves! The Sinn Feiners are out - they’re up ahead!” Discounting this as a piece of proverbial Irish nonsense, Hunter continued his disdainful march, confident in the capacity of British cavalry to overawe rebels anywhere, a confidence forged long ago in many a foreign clime. To Daly’s men, hard at work erecting barricades around the Four Courts, the Lancers proved a startling sight. In sheer panic, the men at the Church Street Bridge barricade knelt in the roadway and loosed off a fusillade. Six or seven troopers fell immediately while their animals plunged and reared wildly in terror. Lieutenant Hunter wheeled his horse and yelled to his men to make for a side street. A handful unheedingly rode towards Chancery Place, hoping to take refuge in the Four Courts, only to come under heavy fire from Volunteer James Byrne guarding the gate, whose Howth rifle, with its reverberating echo, sounded like a small cannon. The main body rode into Charles Street and galloped towards Ormonde Market, only to be turned back by further insurgent fire. For a few moments of sheer chaos they milled around in the narrow street, all order and discipline vanished. Then Hunter, bravely rallying them, ordered them to break into the Collier Dispensary and the Medical Mission opposite it. They did so; then, once inside, they were able to unload the ammunition carts and bring the boxes in. Meanwhile, in