Sitting in a Liverpool cafe, my companion reflected on his youth in Belfast.  From a Protestant working class family, he believed his community had been misled by the unionist politicians and had been misunderstood by the British government.

On the anniversary of the First Day of the Battle of the Somme, the re-reading of Frank McGuinness’ Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme creates a sense that the history of Northern Ireland would have been different if the British government had understood what it was that shaped the thinking of Ulster Protestants.

Had they been schooled in Calvinism, had they some concept of Election, had they understood those Old Testament stories, they might not have made so many mistakes. They had no religion and no comprehension of those who had.

Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme is set on 1st July 1916.  It captures the intensity, perhaps of 1916, but also what that day has meant in more recent times. McGuinness’ play culminates with a prayer for victory:

(They each begin to put on their Orange sashes. CRAIG watches PYPER, then takes his sash off, goes to MOORE, hands. it to him. MOORE hesitates, then exchanges his sash for CRAIG’s. At this there is an exchange of sashes, CRAWFORD’s for ANDERSON’S, MILLEN’S for MCILWAINE’S. ROULSTON goes to PYPER, who takes ROULSTON’S and gives him his own.)

PYPER: It’s come to this, Roulston?

ROULSTON: What’s decreed passes, Pyper.

PYPER: There’s no fight back?

ROULSTON: There’s just the fight.

PYPER: The good fight?

ROULSTON: The everlasting fight.

PYPER: Inside us?

ROULSTON: And outside us.

PYPER: Preach.

ROULSTON: No. You preach. (Silence. They wait.)

You believe. Believe. (Silence.)

PYPER: God in heaven, if you hear the words of man, I speak to you this day. I do it now to ask we be spared. I do it to ask for strength. Strength for these men around me, strength for myself. If you are a just and merciful God, show your mercy this day. Save us. Save our country. Destroy our enemies at home and on this field of battle. Let this day at the Somme be as glorious in the memory of Ulster as that day at the Boyne, when you scattered our enemies. Lead us back from this exile. To Derry, to the Foyle. To Belfast and the Lagan. To Armagh. To Tyrone. To the Bann and its banks. To Erne and its islands. Protect them. Protect us. Protect me. Let us fight bravely. Let us win gloriously. Lord, look down on us. Spare us. I love – . Observe the sons of Ulster marching towards the Somme. I love their lives. I love my own life. I love my home. I love my Ulster. Ulster. Ulster. Ulster. Ulster. Ulster. Ulster. Ulster. Ulster. (As the chant of’ Ulster’ commences rifles and bayonets are raised. The chant turns into a battle cry, reaching frenzy).

Perhaps it’s a case of those who understand needing no explanation. Perhaps no explanation is possible. My cafe companion would understand.