He died in penury and disgrace, but it took a king to decide his valour should not be overlooked because of one mistake. Chris Lloyd looks at how a war hero's memory is being honoured - and how his name is living on in the battlefields of Iraq.

THE final notes of the Last Post drift off over Darlington. The bugler, his tunic brilliant blood red in the warm April sunshine, allows his instrument to drop slightly, and the heads of the 20 or so at the graveside go down in silence to remember the man who lies beneath their feet.

He is no ordinary man. He is the only holder of a Victoria Cross to be buried in Darlington; indeed, he is one of only 12 holders of the country's highest award for bravery to be buried between the Tees and the Tyne.

His name was Michael Murphy, an Irishman nicknamed "Spud". He showed extraordinary bravery during the Indian Mutiny but ended up penniless in Darlington. He had committed a petty crime and fell from grace, stripped of his medal and his pension.

His name, though, lives on. His regiment, today called the Royal Logistics Corps, is about to leave Catterick for the Murphy Lines, a newly-built camp near Basra in Iraq.

And yesterday, in Darlington's North Cemetery on the day which in 1858 Murphy committed his heroic deeds, a small group of soldiers and ex-servicemen gathered to remember, and to reflect on notions of bravery and forgiveness, of crime and punishment.

From Darlington, it is a long way to where Murphy was born - in Cahir in Tipperary, Ireland - in 1831 (although his gravestone says 1832). He was a blacksmith by trade, and enlisted as a farrier in 2 Battalion, The Military Train - the transport division in the days when the horse was the main vehicle.

On April 28, 1857, his battalion set sail for China, but barely were they out to sea than the Indian Mutiny began, and they were re-routed to Calcutta.

The Indian Mutiny is one of the most brutal episodes in British history. The British had ruled India for 200 years, gradually storing up resentment among the natives. The mutiny erupted when the sepoys - native soldiers - were ordered to use new Enfield paper cartridges in their rifles. These cartridges demanded that the rifles be liberally greased with animal fat - use of the sacred cow was horrific to the Hindus, use of the sacred pig was just as bad to the Muslims.

THEY exploded, treacherously slaughtering their British rulers and riding off. The British rode after them, caught them, and treacherously slaughtered them in return.

In this whirlwind of bloodshed, the worst atrocity occurred at Cawnpore. The British had negotiated their release from their besieged city. The Indians promised them safe passage, escorted them to the Ganges, helped them aboard small boats, pushed them from shore - and then bombarded them with shells. The river turned red, and Indian cavalrymen rode around the shallows slashing at the dead.

Murphy caught the tail-end of Cawnpore, and then marched up to Lucknow where about 1,000 British soldiers, led by Sir Henry Havelock from Sunderland, were besieged in dreadful conditions.

Murphy's mob successfully lifted the siege - although Sir Henry himself perished and was buried under a mango tree - and then set off after the mutineers' leader, Koer Singh of Azimghur.

They were perhaps too successful in their pursuit, for The Military Train and the 3rd Sikh Cavalry came upon the rebel's rearguard. Battle ensued, during which the adjutant of the 3rd Sikhs, Lieutenant Hamilton, fell from his saddle and lay wounded on the ground with sepoys all around.

Other men, fearing for their own lives, might have been tempted to turn a blind eye to Hamilton's predicament. In the heat of battle, with death all around, who could possibly blame anyone for not seeing a soldier stumble and fall?

Instead, Murphy rushed over. He was joined by Private Samuel Morley, whose horse had been shot from under him. Back to back over the body of their fallen comrade, the two soldiers fought off the sepoys - possibly killing five of them - until help arrived.

Murphy was severely wounded five times and, along with Morley, was awarded the Victoria Cross, even though Hamilton succumbed to his injuries.

OVER the next decade, Murphy rose through the ranks, becoming a Sergeant - possibly even a Farrier Major. But on January 26, 1872, he was caught stealing six bushels of oats and 12 pounds of hay.

Explanations vary. Some say it was because his horse was hungry; others that it was for a poor civilian who couldn't afford to feed his beast of burden. More likely, Murphy was simply supplementing his meagre army wages with a little private enterprise.

The income would barely have bought a drink, though, for the contraband amounted to a sack of oats and a barrowful of hay. Hardly a hanging offence.

"For God's sake, look it over this time," shouted Murphy at his court martial on March 5, 1872. "It will ruin me."

But they did not look it over. They sentenced him to nine months hard labour. They stripped him of his rank, ordered him to forfeit his VC and took away his £10pa pension. Even his wife and child were turned out.

They ruined him.

Having served his sentence, Murphy rejoined the 7th Hussars as a private. After 20 years, soldiering was all he knew. But he spent most of his time in hospital - quite probably suffering from the five severe wounds sustained while winning the Victoria Cross.

In 1875, he was discharged from the army as medically unfit. He was barely able to work and, without a pension, he was condemned to a life of poverty - his one petty crime wiping out all his years of service and his moments of extreme valour.

In 1880, Sir Henry Havelock's son Sir Harry inherited Blackwell Grange on the outskirts of Darlington. Sir Harry had been at Lucknow and had himself won the VC at Cawnpore. He became acquainted with Murphy's story, and employed him as a labourer on the Blackwell estate.

When Murphy died of pneumonia aged 63 on April 4, 1893, the local papers noted that he had lived in an estate cottage for three years, and that a year earlier Sir Harry had badgered the British government into restoring Murphy's pension.

Still, though, Murphy only left £21 to his niece. Three of his four sons had been killed fighting on foreign fields, and a fourth was away on active service. So it fell to Havelock-Allan to follow his old comrade's coffin to the grave, and to pay for the headstone.

IN 1920, King George V rehabilitated Murphy's memory, saying that the VC could never be forfeited "no matter the crime committed". The King reasoned that the medal was awarded for outstanding split-second valour - not for a lifetime of good behaviour.

Murphy's regiment still remembers him, and its camp at Shibabah near Basra bears his name. "Imagine a series of portable buildings on an airfield encased in wire and that's the Murphy Lines," said WO1 (RSM) Paul Hughes. Along with 400 colleagues from Catterick, he'll be flying out to Shibabah near Basra within the next fortnight.

"It's just been finished and all the cabins have air-conditioning, so we will not be living in tents but in quite palatial surroundings."

But in Darlington, for much of the 20th century, Murphy was forgotten. His grave overgrew, until 1985 when the headstone was repaired and an annual service of remembrance was commenced.

Yesterday white pansies flowered at its foot, and the roses on either side were neatly pruned in preparation for summer growth.

"This is a very special site and should not be allowed to be forgotten," said Allan Newman of No 428 Bradford VC Mess of ex-servicemen which helped restore the grave.

"All VCs are for great bravery, but this guy risked his life - nearly lost his life - performing a very gallant act when it would have been easier for him to have looked the other way while the tribesmen hacked Lieutenant Hamilton to pieces.

"The poignancy of him losing the medal just adds to his story."