Month: June 2012

“Ou sont les neiges d’antan?”

(Where are the snows of yesteryear?)

….

I was saddened to read of the death at a relatively early age and as a result of a long illness bravely borne, of Mrs. Patricia McCracken (nee McShane).

Patricia was the loving wife of legendary Newry distance runner Willie McCracken and beloved mother to Conor, Sharon and Eimear. Every one will have their own precious memories of this great lady.

I have fond memories of Patricia and her sister Margaret – now Mrs Margaret Vint – when, many years ago, they worked together in the Satellite cafe Kilmorey Street, under the proprietorship of Tommy Burns.

(Actually he was Tommy Byrne but everyone called him Tommy Burns!)

During the early to mid 1960’s a hot orange and a chip in the Satellite , lingered over all night, was the innocent apotheosis of our social and culinary indulgence. Impecunious as we were we could nevertheless watch and comment on the passing female “talent”. The entertainment was completed by the Juke Box on which we took turns to spend our “thrupenny bits” playing British and American pop records and Irish Showband hits. The Journal Editor, Peter McGrath, Terry McCrum, the late Peter Dodds and myself were stalwart regulars and the beautiful McShane girls were like big sisters to us.

Well, actually, Patricia was more of a “little big sister”. We would tease her over her soft South Armagh brogue which contrasted with our sharp urban rasp. (Actually the editor never rasped; he always spoke softly but laughed heartily).

In turn she and Margaret indulged our youthful exuberance while drawing the line firmly at foul language, smut or unacceptable behaviour. Diminutive and petite as she was, Patricia was fearless in confronting drunks, louts or yobs; equally she could sternly call us to order on the rare occasions that we became unruly.
I suspect all of us Abbey lads had a secret and forlorn “fancy” for one or both of the McShane girls. However from an early stage it became apparent that a polite, immaculately dressed and perfectly coiffured young compositor called Willie McCracken had won Patricia’s heart.

In 1965 the “Abbey”group of Satellite customers decamped, some to Queens University, others to St Joseph’s College of Education. Visits to the “Satellite” were confined to weekends and gradually died out.

I hadn’ t spoken to Patricia for over forty years and caught a glimpse of her only once since then. But some people often unknowingly touch your life in a small but significant way. Patricia was one of those and I confess to having shed a small tear when I saw her yesterday for the last time at her home.

To her sorrowing husband and family, I offer my deepest condolences.

Go ndeanfaidh Dia trocaire ar a anam uasal.

Sergeant Peter Joseph Markey from Newry was part of the unsuccessful British parachute assault on Arnhem in September 1944.  (see also https://www.newryjournal.co.uk/2007/06/22/dickie-the-paratrooper/ )

Markey was captured and incarcerated in Sagan prisoner-of-war camp in Germany. With the others there he was liberated by the Russians in February 1945.

Desparate to return to Britain, Markey considered that the best route was to go east, via Odessa. Plodding along, he met with a horse and cart on the road which turned out to be driven by two Jews, Hans Andriesse from Holland and his friend Sal Berkovitz, a Czech-born Belgian.

They invited Markey to climb aboard and travel with them. Their story was heart-rending.

Both had been rounded up by the Nazis in their determination to exterminate all Jews from the face of the earth. They would first be exploited in the war-effort forced labour camps.

Hans had been imprisoned in Westerbork transit camp and was on the train to Auschwitz along with 1,710 Dutch Jews when it stopped in Kosel where the able-bodied were ordered off. For thirty months in the forced labour camp there Hans survived the most extreme of conditions. He ended up in Kittlitztreben. There he met Sal, who had had similar experiences. Remarkably they survived until the close of the war, as the Germans were pressed from all sides.

Due to severe illness, they had been left to die when most of the inmates had been force-marched by their ruthless captors deeper into Germany before the Russians arrived.

When Peter Markey met them on the road, Hans and Sal had just been liberated by the Russians.

Markey resolved to find a way to repay their kindness.

Markey concocted a cover-story for Hans and Sal which saved their lives. He gave them false identity papers, Royal Engineers’ numbers and Sagan POW numbers. At every stage of their tortuous journey east, Markey persuaded doubting Russian and British officers that Hans and Sal had volunteered their services to the British in Arnhem.

The journey to Odessa took fifteen days. Eventually the friends boarded a troop ship for Glasgow. They celebrated St Patrick’s Day on board with Markey who waved wistfully at his native country as they sailed around the west coast of Ireland for Scotland.

Of the 107,000 Dutch Jews transported to the East by the Nazis, only 5,000 survived. Of the 550 men who alighted from the train at Kosel, only 30 survived. The women, children and elderly who remained on that train were murdered in Auschwitz.

Not one of the Kittlitztreben prisoners force-marched West before the Russians liberated the camp, survived.