Kirkintilloch disaster recalled - gaffer’s son raised alarm when fire broke out

PART TWO

By Tom Gillespie

EIGHTY-five years ago this month 10 Achill youths lost their lives in a bothy fire in Kirkintilloch, Scotland. It happened on September 16, 1937.

Ten days later The Connaught Telegraph gave extensive coverage to the tragedy.

The extensive report continued:

A woman living on the farm said: “If the men had been more familiar with the lay-out of the building they would have probably not have perished. In their panic, apparently they failed to see where the doors were. They were all huddled together away from the doors.”

Mr. Neil McCaffer, who lives nearby, said: “I was awakened by a loud shouting. I thought at first that a crowd of bus workers were having a cheery celebration of the marriage of one of their number, but my wife went to the window and cried out that there was a fire.

“I dashed outside and, seeing dense smoke from the hut, I threw on some clothes and picked up an axe. When I got outside I saw a number of woman at the windows of their section hitting the glass with their clenched fists and screaming loudly.

“I distinctively heard one of them say that her three brothers were in the other section, which, by this time was fully in the grip of the flames.

“Another girl shouted, ‘My brothers are in there - help them - help them’. The women were frantic. From the men’s section dense smoke was issuing, but no flames could be seen. There was a strange crackling noise coming from inside.

“I could hear the men groaning and shouting and I heard cries of ‘Oh dear; oh dear’.

“I broke the glass of one of the windows in the women’s section. This was full of smoke, but not actually on fire. We found five or six women inside, and helped them through the windows. The others had made their escape unassisted.

“We made sure that all the women were clear, and then tried to get into the men’s section. The smoke was increasing, and we were just able to reach a communicating door. We tried to smash it open with a hammer, but were unable to do so.”

The foreman, Pat Dougan, and his son Tom, were sleeping in a separate room near the women’s quarters, which has two windows and a door to the main road.

How the alarm was given was told by a boy, who was unnerved by his terrifying experience.

“I was sleeping badly,” he said, “being troubled with a boil on my neck. I think it must have been after one o’clock when I heard a queer cracking. I couldn’t make out what it was, so I got up, and then I smelt burning. It seemed to be coming from the men’s part of the building.

“I went back into the kitchen, woke my father, and told him what was happening. Then we both shouted to rouse the women and told them they were in danger and to get out as quickly as possible.

“My father went into the passage leading to the men’s quarters, but could not make his way through with smoke.”

So quickly did the flames spread from the men’s quarters that had not Tom Dougan been awake, it is possible that his father, himself, and the women would have been lost in the holocaust.

The belief that the whole party of youths were suffocated by smoke before the flames broke out is supported by an official of the Kirkintilloch Fire Brigade, who said that with one exception, the bodies were found huddled close together.

The women were removed from the scene when the work of recovering the bodies began. The remains were carried outside and placed in coffins hurriedly obtained. The local police station was converted into a mortuary.

The work of accounting for the dead and securing names and ages was hampered by the fact that most of the women spoke Irish only in their distress.

A correspondent writing from Achill on Thursday night says: The weeping of mothers torn with grief at the loss of their sons was heard over Achill today, following the news of the terrible Scottish tragedy.

Never before have I witnessed such sorrow as was shown not only by the mothers of the dead youths, but by the women folk of the island.

The clean little cottages were turned into houses of mourning and the arrival of each sympathiser brought fresh sobs from the anguished parents.

I have heard women were at various crosses that came their way, but today for the first time I have seen that grief which comes only to a mother at the death of a son, whom she has tenderly nursed and watched as he grew into manhood.

It is a sight which pulls at one’s very heart-strings, and one fails to describe adequately the pathos of it.

Only a woman who has family of her own can realise the great sorrow of the mothers in these six homes, who have lost their sons.

The cross was made all the heavier by the suddenness of it all, for the news was conveyed by a telephone message through the Guards early this morning.

Overnight the families were thrown into mourning - mourning the loss of dear ones who had gone abroad in effort to earn a few shillings to keep together the little homesteads now stricken by the death of the bread-winners.

It is one of the greatest tragedies that has visited this island since 1894, when in Clew Bay a ship carrying 36 passengers, also bound for the potato fields, was lost.

The disaster has touched the hearts of everyone. To see these women, who have all their lives faced the greatest of hardships in rearing their families, now bowed down with sorrow makes one’s heart overflow with sympathy for them in their terrible grief.

“Achone, ma gossoon,” was the anguished cry of the mothers. When photographs of their dear ones were produced the mothers shook with sobs as they looked at them and recalled the days of their childhood.

Many of the men now lying dead, charred beyond recognition as a result of the disaster, were youths who had made their first trip to earn a living.

The magnitude of the tragedy was such as to invoke the sympathy of the whole country, and to urge the necessity of seeing that Irishmen would be given the opportunity of earning their livelihood amongst their own people.

NEXT WEEK: Tragic scenes as the news of the fire spread.