大象传媒

A schoolboy鈥檚 memories of wartime

I was born and grew-up in Omagh and was a schoolboy throughout all the years of the war. Memories therefore are mostly of exciting experiences and only later did a realisation come of the true horror of those times.

There was rationing and it effected food and clothes but I cannot recall personal hardships. I was never naked and seemed to have adequate food. I eat margarines so that my mother might have my butter ration, or so I was told. Later, when the Americans had entered the war and were stationed in the North, the bakery where my father worked had a contract to bake bread for the US troops locally and as a result he brought one white pan type loaf home each day.

Eggs were in a yellow powder form but the tins seemed plentiful and anyway I liked my eggs scrambled. And when the British soldiers were on manoeuvers locally, which seemed frequently, a child could get an extra treat if they could find the site of the field kitchen. A slice of bully-beef or at least what appeared to be a meatloaf 鈥� it looked like to-day鈥檚 corned beef but darker in colour- went down well. Petrol rationing was not a matter which concerned us. There was no family car.

There were no scarcity of military installations 鈥� the St Lucia Barracks, the garrison home of the Inniskilling Fusiliers; a new camp at Lisonelly which seemed to develop overnight with its Nissan-huts; and the former workhouse and fever hospital which was just behind where I lived at Woodside Terrace.

The Lisonelly camp, which is still a military base, was built on a field at the Gusset, known locally as 鈥渢he plump hill鈥�, and belonging to the Murnaghan family. I recall an Easter Monday tradition of rolling hard boiled eggs down a hill there until the shell cracked, and then eating them. The fact that the egg usually ended in a drain which flowed from the direction of the Fever hospital did not seem to worry us. Risks to health were not high on the agenda in the early forties.

I was too young to be familiar with employment problems but the decision to build the Lisonelly camp was a God-send to many young men in Omagh and district. They bought hammers and saws 鈥渙n tick鈥� from Crawford and Wilson鈥檚 or CA Anderson鈥檚, and presented themselves at the site as tradesmen! And were employed thus. I heard stories that equipment on the site was so scarce that, on very good days, men would climb on to a roof knowing the ladder would be 鈥渂orrowed鈥� and they would be 鈥渟tranded鈥� there to enjoy the sunshine.

On the day war was declared against Germany the occasion was, for we young people at least, overshadowed by even sadder news! A German-owned circus had to cancel its plans to open in the showgrounds and had to return across the border under threat of internment.

The military presence changed the pace of life in the district where I was growing up. There was always vehicular or foot traffic along the road past our house, day and night, in contrast to the quiet thoroughfare I remember from pre-war days. The road led to Gortin, ten miles away, and the bus ran on only two days a week. Just outside the town boundary, on the Gortin road, there was a sand-bagged check point, manned probably by the Home Guard, or Dad鈥檚 Army as the TV prefers to call it, through which traffic had to zig-zag. And at the turn-off to the Workhouse, there was a regimental military policeman on duty to direct military traffic into that base.

All added to a busy excitement everyday.

Of the foot traffic along the road to Lisonelly Camp, I remember occasionally deserters from the Irish or Free State Army as it was locally known, being quick-marched between armed guards to the camp. Local gossip had it they were given a choice of being returned south of the Border, or of joining the British Army, and that if they chose the latter they were made very welcome because they were already well trained in the rudiments of being a soldier.

Another exciting feature of the foot traffic, even to a not very streetwise male in early teens, was the sight of young females in uniform. An ATS camp had been built on the site of the present day Silver Birch Hotel

The war brought its share of personalities to Omagh.

I met an officer who had a leading role in the film 鈥淭he Four Feathers鈥� although I cannot remember a name. Some officers were billeted in private houses throughout the town. There was an abundance of sporting personalities. The Christian Brothers鈥� School park near our house was commandeered for rugby and it was obvious that many of the players were of a International standard. One game in particular, between an army side and a South African side, had certainly current and future international players in their lineout.

It was in the boxing ring however that the stars really appeared. Many future army champions and indeed a future Olympian, boxed with army teams and there were champions on both sides in clashes between the Inniskillen Fusiliers and Irish Army teams. One name stands out 鈥� Maxie McCullagh from Dublin became a European middleweight champion. Another star was a featherweight boxer named Burke from the Fusiliers鈥� team.

Needless to say there was considerable excitement and tension between supporters of both sides, and all of them from Omagh and district.

It was not all schoolboy excitement however and two memories were forerunners of my realisation of the horrors of war.

One Sunday afternoon, at the height of a heavy snowstorm, I watched a Sunderland or Catalina flying boat circle for what seemed like an eternity, flying very low and with lights flashing, before crashing some miles North of the town. The crew of ten all died and locals who rushed to the scene to see what help they could give, had to throw themselves on the ground when tracer bullets flew overhead while the wreckage burned. I cycled to the scene next day.

The second memory surrounds the Green Howard unit which for a period was based in the Workhouse. I got to know some of the soldiers particularly well, especially those who did points duty on the main road. They left the town to take part in the invasion of Norway where, local gossip recorded, they were amongst the earliest causalities. And nowhere were their deaths more mourned than in Omagh.

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