Glo - National Museum Wales

Llygod mawr
fel cathod!
Rats like cats!
Ymunais â’r Gwarchodlu Cartref ym mis Mai
1940 ar ôl clywed araith enwog Winston
Churchill ynglŷn â’n cefnau yn erbyn y wal.
Wyddoch chi, honno a oedd yn sôn rhywbeth am
‘We’ll fight them on the streets’ ac ati. Fe es i swyddfa’r
heddlu ac ymuno’n syth bin. Ar ôl hynny, roeddwn i’n
gweithio o danddaear yn ystod y dydd ac yn rhedeg ar
hyd a lled y mynyddoedd gyda’r nos cyn cael ychydig
oriau o gwsg. Yn y Gwarchodlu Cartref y gwelais i’r
enghrai orau o frawdoliaeth. Pan es i’r ysbyty ar ôl
damwain danddaear, daeth y platŵn cyfan i’m gweld,
pob un yn sefyll o amgylch fy ngwely. Cefais becyn o
bum sigarét gan un ohonyn nhw. Allech chi ddim cael
sigaréts bryd hynny, a rhai ‘Pasha’s’ oedden nhw. Ar ôl
rhoi’r sigaréts i mi, gofynnodd, ‘Alla i ga’l rhywfaint i
fynd yn ôl ’da fi? Wy ddim di cael mwgyn drw’r dydd’.
Roedd newydd roi pum sigarét i mi, a dyma fi’n gorfod
rhoi eu hanner nhw’n ôl.
Rhai o gyn-filwyr rhyfel 1914 oedd aelodau
cynta’r Gwarchodlu Cartref, a gan eu bod nhw’n hen
lawiau ar drin arfau, fe gawson nhw ddrylliau pelets.
Ni chafodd y gweddill ohonom ynnau tan i’r
Americanwyr anfon cesys o reiffls atom, a dyna’r rhai
ddefnyddion ni gydol y rhyfel. Roedden nhw’n
seimllyd ofnadwy, ac roedd rhaid i ni eu glanhau.
Dwi’n credu bod rhyw 140 ohonom yn y platŵn, ac
roedden ni’n gwneud tri pharêd yr wythnos. Bydden
ni’n ymarfer tanio ein reifflau ar draws argae
Treherbert. Arhosais gyda’r Gwarchodlu Cartref tan
iddo gael ei ddirwyn i ben.
Pan ddes i allan o’r ysbyty, es i weld Mr Oliver,
rheolwr y lofa, i ofyn am swydd. Roedd cadeirydd
cyfrinfa’r lofa yn digwydd bod yno a gofynnodd,
‘Odych chi am roi cyfle i’r bachan hwn? Gath e
ddamwain, mae ei fam yn wraig weddw a ma’ da fe
ddou frawd anabl – beth am roi cyfle iddo fe?’ Ta
beth, cefais swydd gyda dyn o’r enw Tommy Taylor
‘tyllwr’ (gweithredwr driliau) a oedd wedi gweithio
ym Mecsico; roedd e dros 60 oed, yn llai na fi hyd yn
oed ac yn llawn ‘dwst’ (silicosis).
Roeddwn i’n gorfod sefyll y tu ôl i Tommy wrth
iddo ddrilio twll, ac yna byddwn i’n gwthio’r handlen
yng nghefn y peiriant tan i’r rhoden gyrraedd y pen.
Yna, byddwn i’n rhoi rhoden ddrilio ac un arall nes bod
gennym ddril chwe throedfedd. Rhoddodd Tommy'r
gorau iddi yn y diwedd am na allai weithio mwyach,
roedd yn rhy hen a’i frest yn rhy ddrwg oherwydd y
llwch. Felly, daeth y rheolwr ata’ i a gofyn ‘Wnei di ddal
ati ar dy ben dy hun?’. Atebais i ‘Iawn’ cyn meddwl, ‘Y
twpsyn i ti!’. A dyna’n swydd i, felly. Prin y gallwn i
gerdded oherwydd fy nghoes stiff, ac roedd rhaid i mi
gario’r holl gyfarpar o dalcen i dalcen, yn tyllu.
Sylvanus Thompson, ei fab Mike (gyda’r bat
criced a wnaed adeg y streic) a ‘Sally’
Un diwrnod, daeth y rheolwr ata i a gofyn, ‘Liciet
ti gael jobyn yn gyrru’r injan halio?’. ‘Iawn te’,
meddwn i, a dyma’r bachan hyn yn dangos i mi sut i
yrru’r injan a’n gadael i wrthi. Fe wnes i hynny am
bedair blynedd. Priodais wedyn, a gofynnodd fy
nghymydog ‘Mr omas, pam na ddewch chi ’da ni i
Lundain i glirio llanast y bomio, mae’n arian hawdd
am y nesaf peth i ddim. Ond mae’n rhaid i chi gwpla
yn y lofa achos mae’n rhaid i chi fod yn ddi-waith er
mwyn gwneud cais’. Felly, ymddiswyddais a mynd ar
y dôl. Dyna pryd y ganwyd fy mab. Bues i’n ddi-waith
am chwe wythnos, ac yna daeth y dyn yma’n ôl o
Lundain a mynd â 41 ohonom yno.
Erbyn hyn, roedd hi’n 1946. Prin dri mis fues i yn
Llundain pan gefais alwad gan y Llu Awyr. Es i’n ôl
adref a chael gair gyda rheolwr y lofa a ddywedodd na
fyddai rhaid i mi fynd, fel glöwr, felly dechreuais
weithio fel glöwr eto. Gofynnodd rhywun i mi, ‘Pan
na ei di lan i’r lefelau newydd? Mae’n neisiach fan’ny,
yn sych braf ’. Felly es i weld y rheolwr a roddodd fraw
i mi. Mewn gwirionedd, roedd y bachan a oedd wedi
canmol y lefelydd gymaint yn gweithio yn y pwll islaw
Lefel Moscow lle’r es i i weithio. Lle’r oeddwn i, roedd
y dŵr i fyny at eich fferau. Dim ond rhyw dri mis
barodd hynny, a gofynnais a gawn i fynd i’r pwll
Sylvanus Thompson, with son, Mike (with the
cricket bat made during the strike) and Sally
Ijoined the home guard in May 1940 aer Winston
Churchill made his ‘backs to the wall’ speech. You
know, the one that said “We’ll fight them on the
streets” or something like that. I went to the police
station and joined straight away. Aer that I was
working underground during the day and running
about the mountains in the night, we were only
having a few hours sleep. e finest comradeship I
have ever seen was in the Home Guard. When I went
into hospital aer an accident underground, the
whole platoon came in to see me all stood by the bed.
One gave me a packet of five fags. You couldn’t get fags
then and they were ‘Pasha’s’. Aer giving me the fags,
he said “Can I have some to go back with? I ain’t had
a fag all day.” He just brought me five fags and I had
to gave him half back.
e Home Guard started off with a lot of people
who had been in the 1914 war and because they were
experienced with handling guns they were given shot
guns. e rest of us didn’t have guns until the
Americans sent us cases of rifles over and those are
the ones that we used all through the war. ey were
covered in grease and we had to clean them up. I think
there were about 140 of us in the platoon and we did
three parades a week. We used to practice firing our
rifles across Treherbert Dam. I stayed in the Home
Guard until they were disbanded.
When I came out of hospital I went up to see Mr
Oliver the colliery manager to ask him for a job. e
chairman of the union lodge was there and said “Are
you going to give this boy a start? He has had an
accident, his mother is a widow and he has two invalid
brothers – give him a start?” Anyway I got a job with
a chap called Tommy Taylor a ‘borer’ (drill operator)
who had worked in Mexico; he was over 60, even
smaller than me and full of ‘dust’ (silicosis).
I had to stand behind Tommy while he was boring
the hole and I’d be shoving the handle at the back of
the machine until it was driven in and then I’d put a
longer drill rod in until we ended up with the full six
foot drill rod. Tommy eventually finished because he
couldn’t do the work any more, he was too old and his
chest was so bad because he was full of dust. So the
owner came on to me and said “Will you carry on
doing this job on your own?” I said “Righto”, but I
thought, “You fool, man!” So that was my job, I had a
stiff leg and could hardly walk and I had to carry all
the equipment around the stalls, boring holes.
One day the manager came on to me and said
“Would you like to have a job driving the haulage
engine?” “Aye” I said, so the chap that was on there
showed me how to drive the engine and le me to it
and I did it for four years. I got married about then
and the chap that was living next door came in and
said “Look Mr. omas why don’t you come up with
us to London sorting out the bomb damage, its money
for old rope up there. But you got to finish in the
colliery as you have to be on the dole to apply for the
job”. So I put my notice in and signed on the dole.
at’s when my son was born. And I was on the dole
then for about six weeks and then the chap came
down from London and took forty-one of us back
It was then 1946 and I had only been up there three
months when I got called up for the Air Force. I went
back home and had a word with the colliery manager
who told me that, as a miner, I wouldn’t have to be
conscripted so I started back as a miner again. A chap
said to me “Why don’t you go up on the new levels? It’s
lovely up there, its nice and dry.” So I went up to the
manager and he gave me a start. e chap who had
told me how nice the levels were was actually working
in the pit below the Moscow Level where I went to
work. Where I was there was water up to your ankles
so I only stuck that for about three months and I asked
if I could go to the new pit in the ‘Hook and Eye’ (Glen
Rhondda Colliery), and I got a job as a labouring
assistant to the repairer. I was there for about three
months and the overman came around and said
“Would you take on the job as repairer?” I said “I don’t
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