Person Page 648

Her married name was Glanville.

     Teresa Florence Marks was Church of Ireland.

     Edwin Glanville was Church of Ireland.

     Mabel Glanville was Church of Ireland.

     John Glanville was Church of Ireland.

     Samuel Hill Glanville was Church of Ireland.

He was also known as Charles W. Glanville as registered at first marriage & 1939 Register.

Charles Glanville was living on 12 September 1915; when listed in his father's military records.
     Charles was married 2 times.

Her married name was Glanville.

Her married name was Hancock.

Her married name was Cornish.

      His family was described by his daughter in a book:-

A GIRL’S ADVENTURE Mary Ruth McCarthy, personal account .
Taken from Irish Women Speak, Clonakilty Women of the 20th Century by Alison Wickham

My father Sam Glanville was a lighthouse keeper, as was his father before him, and we lived a somewhat roaming life as we moved about the Irish coast. He and my mother Jo were from the south of Ireland; Michael my brother (born 1930), Martha my sister (born 1933) and I (born 1932) were all born near Kilkeel, Co. Down. A lighthouse keeper had to have experience of life at sea, or a trade, in order to undertake the training for light keeping, and my father had both. In 1936 we lived in Inishowen, Co. Donegal, then moved to Cobh, Co. Cork in 1939, where my father ‘kept the light’on Spitbank in the harbour. Furnished dwellings were provided on site, for keepers’ families, the exception being Cobh. Here we lived in rented accommodation. This consisted of a large house divided in two. I called it ‘half a house’, because another family occupied the other half. There was a large garden behind the house, very sheltered, so apple trees and fruit bushes thrived, and there was plenty of ground space to grow potatoes, onions, carrots etc. In 1942 we moved to Skerries, Co. Dublin. The lighthouse was on Rockabill, some way off the Dublin coast. In December of the same year we made our next and final move to Galley Head Lighthouse, situated on a headland eight or nine miles from Clonakilty town, West Cork. Back then this location was seen as somewhat isolated and consequently backward. My mother was very concerned about Michael’s secondary schooling. It was accepted in those days that a girl’s further education was of less importance. Near the houses at Galley Head there was a huge rainwater tank and a cold water tank in the pantry that had a sink. My mother cooked on the coal range in the kitchen. We also had a Scandinavian primus stove for quick cooking. She made delicious beef stews, Irish stews, and frequently cooked fish, mackerel or the less favoured pollock. My father caught the fish from a rowing boat with a friend, or from the rocks with rod but no reel. Although we ate rashers as a treat for Sunday breakfast, we seldom ate pork in any form, as there were disease concerns about its consumption at the time. The only form of transport we had was my father’s bicycle; my mother never cycled. She was taken to town once or twice a month in the local farmer’s horse and cart, or occasionally in a pony and trap. My father wore a uniform provided, but clothes for the rest of the family came from Cash’s and O’Mahoneys, drapers on Rossa Street. We did not have modern conveniences so we washed ourselves in a galvanised bath in front of the fire. The Galley Head had a telephone line, possibly because of its coastal monitoring role in wartime. Occasionally a local person came to use the telephone to ask for the doctor or vet to be called out. The Second World War was raging in Europe at the time; although Ireland was not involved, its Government co-operated with the Allies. There was rationing of clothes, tea, cigarettes etc. The nomadic life we lived we enjoyed very much. This meant we attended 4 very different primary schools. All Michael ever wanted to do was ‘go to sea’ and following 2 years’ attendance (by bicycle) at St. Mary’s Secondary School in Clonakilty, this is what he did. Martha died before her 15th birthday; this was a very sad time for us. Following my father’s retirement we continued to live in West Cork. I spent some years in England, first as a teacher in Kidderminster and then nurse training in Birmingham, later returning to Ireland, where I worked as a nurse. My husband Jerry and I married in 1961, raising our six daughters and two sons in rural West Cork. Our great treat in those days was to take a picnic and go by car to the seaside, often visiting Galley Head Lighthouse.

In her true story German Crew Ashore from U-Boat, Mary Ruth writes about her memories of a real event. ‘My father opened the door of the bedroom where Martha and I slept and, as if it were an everyday occurrence, said: ‘There are German soldiers in Joe’s house, do you want to see them?’ This statement was beyond our understanding. Why were they in Joe’s house? Why were they in Ireland? Germany, we understood, was at war with other countries somewhere in the world but not in Ireland. Bewildered, we got out of bed and went with Michael and my mother into Joe’s kitchen. The following are my impressions of that night. I was 13, Michael 15 and Martha was 12. On the cliff-top, not far from the white-washed walls which surround the lighthouse at Galley Head, West Cork, stands a roofless small hut. This is what remains of a concrete lookout post and is one of many which were constructed on the coastline around Ireland in the 1940s. Men who knew the cliffs, inlets and shores of each particular place underwent a period of training and performed their duties, two at a time, day and night, as coast watchers. The hut had a telephone. The assistant keeper at Galley Head was Joe O’Byrne, who lived beside us with his wife and baby daughter. A third building called ‘The Spare House’ was alongside Joe’s. A telephone was located there as well. On the night of March 13th 1945 all of us, except my father, went to bed. He said: ‘I will stay here in the kitchen, for a short while.’ That puzzled me as he was not on duty. Joe had lit the lantern at sunset and he would keep watch until sunrise. The man on duty stayed in a room in the tower or in his kitchen, where the range was always lighting. Sometime after we went to sleep a loud explosion woke us and our bedroom was flooded with a pink light. My mother came to reassure us. There was a second loud bang and more pink light.

We were alarmed for a while but quietness ensued and we went back to sleep. Our second disturbance was my father telling us about the soldiers. Of course we wanted to see them. We rushed to Joe’s kitchen where we saw my father and Joe with five or six young men in uniform. The strangers were talking cheerfully together and did not have guns. From his experiences during World War I my father had a smattering of French and German, which enabled rudimentary conversation to take place. Soon afterward a coast watcher came with more uniformed Germans, making a total of eleven. All were happy to see each other. Joe’s baby was brought in to be admired by the soldiers. One was their captain, according to my mother, and had children in his home country. They had scuttled their submarine U260 and made their way to the cliffs in a rubber dinghy. The pink light we had earlier seen was from flares set off by them. ‘Which cliff ?’ I asked, since I had explored many of them, being an agile cliff climber. My father said he did not know, but I suspect he did. How did they manage to get safely up the cliffs? Their uniforms, as far as I could tell, were not wet with seawater. We took a great interest in the discussion as to what food to give them. Tea was rationed and very precious. It was decided to give them coffee because they were ‘from the continent’ and were accustomed to that and not to tea. Ground coffee was not available. Irel coffee was made with boiling water added to the sweet syrupy essence. What food they were given I cannot remember. The ‘Cork Examiner’ with ‘EIRE’ printed on it was shown to them and they were delighted. The men knew Ireland was neutral. All the while, my mother and the three of us were observing and enjoying the excitement. Either my father, or Joe or a coast watcher, telephoned the authorities somewhere to inform them of the situation. There were procedures to be followed in an event like this at the Galley; there had been similar instances in other parts of Ireland.

At sunrise a member of either the LDF (Local Defence Force) or LSF (Local Security Force) from Clonakilty, with perhaps a Garda Siochana, arrived in a small lorry. They had come to take these sailors or soldiers to the Curragh Camp, where they would be interned until the war was over. They were happy as they left Joe’s house. They gave us cigarette tobacco, much appreciated by my father, strange-tasting white chocolate, and pemmican, a dried, powdered beef which also tasted strange. Joe gave us the paddle or oar which the men had used. I have it still. This I will always remember: as they were walking towards the lorry a soldier noticed a young woman who had come from the village with the local men to see what ‘was happening on the headland’. He gave a flirty skipping dance towards her and went away in the lorry. I never knew any of their names. We went to school that morning with our friends and talked about all that had happened. In school Master Griffin asked me to stand up and tell him the story. I was completely tongue-tied and could only think he should be asking Michael, who was older than me and would know what to say. Somehow or other he got the information by question and answer and to my great relief that was the end of it. When we got home from school we were told more men from the same U-Boat had been picked up off the coast. Michael and I later found a small white silk parachute on the cliff. We decided it was from one of the flares. The U-Boat is at the bottom of the sea. Divers have been down to explore the wreckage. All I can think of is how dark and eerie it must be to travel under the sea in a U-Boat’.

Postscript: Two months later the war in Europe ended. It had been going very badly for Germany towards the end. Were the men in the U-Boat aware of this? If they were seamen, and not soldiers as my father described them, they would have known they were in neutral Irish waters. Did they scuttle the vessel to avoid further involvement in the war? On a small circle of paper in my mother’s handwriting is the following: ‘March 13th 1945, German crew ashore from U Boat. 11 in all’.
     Samuel Michael Glanville M. M. was Roman Catholic. He began military service on 2 March 1915 recorded age 20years 4mnths, height 5ft 7in, 35in expanded chest, 119lbs. Enlisting in the 7th Leinster Regiment.
      Between 1914 and 1918 served in the British Army in The Great War. He ended military service on 28 January 1919; Regtl No. 73968 16th Battalion Machine Gun Corps, having been hospitalised with influenzas at Boulogne 26 June to 28 Jul 1918. He was also admitted for ringworm in 1917 and a chest abscess in 1918. He was awarded the Military Medal (London Gazette 23 Aug 1916.)
     Samuel Michael Glanville M. M. was Roman Catholic.

Her married name was Glanville.

Her married name was Eastaff.

Her married name was Manning.

Her married name was McCann. She was also known as June V. as registered at marriage.

Her married name was Glanville.

Her married name was Wakeling.

Her married name was Jackson.

     George Bernard Glanville and Rosina May Dench immigrated on 23 December 1919 to AUS.

Her married name was Glanville.

     Rosina May Dench and George Bernard Glanville immigrated on 23 December 1919 to AUS.

Her married name was Brumby.

      On 15 May 1945 the Royal Artillery Attestations record he transferred to East Surrey Regt, whose records confirm the transfer in with a discharge in 1946.

John Edward Stanley Glanville was living in 1917; when named in father's military records.

Her married name was Betteridge.

Her married name was Mennell.