Tommy Edgar Remembers
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Written by Hilda McAdam   
Saturday, 09 January 2010 17:32
Tommy Edgar Remembers:

Tommy remembered how some of the Dalry residents did their bit for the war effort.  Henry Maxwell, the shoemaker, filled a field with cabbages and cauliflowers, and Mrs Dumini, who lived at Rose Cottage, took over a field and filled it with tomatoes.  Needless to say, this was a failure, as they only grew very small and failed to ripen!

In late 1939, Tommy was standing at Newfield front door, when a Gloucester Gladiator, double-winged plane began to circle the village.  Rumour raged that it was the Germans arriving.  Tommy remembered that the Home Guard was summoned and how Mr Jimmy Murray got onto his push bike and started off for Ken Bridge, where he was to stand guard.

When Tommy and Jack Wood were at school, many afternoons were spent doing the garden behind the school, where the Community Centre is today.  One particular day that stood out in their minds, was D E Day.  They were busy in the garden when the headmaster, Mr Singleton, came out into the garden shouting, “They’re over, they’re over!”. The boys said, “Pardon Sir?” and again he replied, “They’re over, they’re over!”  Over where?” asked they boys.  “They have landed in Normandy”, replied Mr Singleton.  He then went round all the boys, asking them if they knew where Normandy was.  Not one of the boys knew the answer.  Mr Singleton then said that he would soon remedy that and made all the boys put down their tools and marched them into the classroom, where, for the rest of the day, he taught them Geography.  War Memories.

Before the war, Dalry had a Territorial Army Group.  They had a Territorial Hut at Garple.  It is remembered that war was imminent and the Territorials decided that they would do a march.  They started in Dalry, walked right round the village, past the Lochinvar and on to Ken Bridge.  From there they made their way to Balmaclellan and then along the top road past Walkerhill, etc., and then back down the Main Street of Dalry to the Fountain.  This parade was led by John Ferguson playing on the accordion.  All the way back down the Main Street, he played ‘Bonnie Galloway’.  The next day the boys got their call-up papers and had to go to war.  Sadly some did not return.

During the war we had out LDV (Local Defence Volunteers), who did a big part in helping the village.  There was also an Observer Corp hut on Tower Hill and the volunteers stood there in 1941 and watched planes going over to bomb Clydebank.

Gordon Candlish also had vivid memories of VE Day.  His father was the beadle at the kirk and Gordon was down at the church with him when Rab Ferguson came down from Kenbank to ring the church bells to announce VE Day.  Gordon was to help them, but instead of just pulling the ropes, they climbed right up into the bell tower where they pealed the bell for one hour.

Another of Tommy Edgar’s wartime memories of Dalry:

In September 1939, when I was only 8 years old, I remember going up to the old school on a Sunday to see the evacuee children coming from Glasgow, sent to the country by the authorities, where it was thought that they would be much safer from the bombing which was taking place in the Glasgow and Clydebank area.  They all had their school bags and of course their gas masks which were issued at that time.  It was not a happy sight; many of them in tears and wondering about their dads and mums they had left, home in Glasgow.

A boy called Peter McDermid, who sat next to me at school, was one of the evacuees and stayed with Mr and Mrs Clark, who lived at Clegg’s Croft.  He returned to Dalry a few years ago from America, and I felt very much that, that was the last visit, as he seemed to be quite ill when he was here.

The following poem, by Tommy, tells his story:

Peter

50 years hae just went by
Since yin wee lad came tae Dalry
Yin wee lad ‘mongst many others
Some wae sisters, some wae brothers
Some wee souls there, just their lane
Thae stand and scowl or kick a stane
And think aboot their ain hame toon
Or that big bus that brocht them doon
Some wae parcels some wae nocht
Doon tae safety sop thae thocht
Away frae Hitler’s bombs and war
The journey seemed so affa far
Some quite tidy some wee wrecks
Stood wae gas masks roon their necks.
Wee short troosers, wee skint knees
They were the Glesca’ evacuees
The Clachan folk baith fat and thin
Were waitin’ there tae tak them in
Tae make them welcome, keep them warm
Whether in cottage, hoose, or farm
And so the bus load dwindled fast
Until just yin wee lad stood last.
Peter was the wee soul’s name
Fellin’ sad and far frae hame
His ma had dee’d when he was three
Tears thae trickled frae his ee
A voice then sounded oot the dark
“Come on wee son, I’m Mrs Clark
Dry yer tears and come wae me
I’ll need tae feed ye up, a’see
Plates o’ porridge wull dae ye guid
Some hame-made scones and soup and bread.

I knew Peter frae that day
Mony a time we baith wud play
Cowboys and Indians, hide and seek,
Fitba’ nearly aw the week
Lessons at the Clachan Schule
And Peter lad he was nae fool
Arithmetic it was his best
Kept in front of aw the rest
But as the months and years went by
Yon thin wee lad he left Dalry
Handsome noo wi’ curly hair
And muscles bulging here and there
Nae more we heard o’ Peter lad
Or the kind of job he micht have had.
Then suddenly yin day yin week
A car drew up its brakes did squeak
A voice wae accent kent but rare
Shouted oot, “Is that you there?
You and I went to school
Remember me, you bloody fool?
I just stopped in to say hello
See old friends before I go.
McDermid, Peter is the name
How come that you just look the same?”
“You’re kidding pal, my hair’s turned grey”
“So’s mine, can’t think why it’s gone that way.
The 50 years they’ve just flew past
So here I am, back at last”.
Last Updated on Saturday, 09 January 2010 17:51