Discovery of an Unsung Hero

Packing Reveals an Unsung Hero.
By Martin Ough Dealy 2022
Looking through an old family album I wondered how many times it had been packed and unpacked during its lifetime.
It now looks very tatty indeed – dog eared especially on the corners with many of the photos and newspaper cuttings and other familiar memorabilia having escaped their moorings, and frequently to be stuffed back in by an impatient family member, acquiring in the process even greater signs of age.
The album dated back to the early 1920’s and so has celebrated its 100th anniversary. During that long life it had been moved from England to Mexico and back again at least twice, then it had been packed and moved again at least five times within Mexico as my parents moved from one home to another in various mining towns where Dad found work. It went through the cycle at least twice more when my mother moved to and from Jamaica.

Then it was packed and sent by courier to New Zealand when my parents retired well over 50 years ago. Here it was packed and unpacked at least twice more. In between these moves it was left in various boxes, wherein it spent a long time forgotten and left to moulder until it was brought out again and put into a bookshelf by my mother. Very occasionally it was extracted for someone to look at.
Margaret’s lifelong enthusiasm for collecting (and generating) memorabilia continued after her move to New Zealand. She kept it as part of her ever-growing accumulation of family treasures. The trove included a vast number of photos, paintings, sketches, letters, tickets, menus, programmes, formal invitations, cuttings and much else. She left at least 30 albums including her memoirs providing an invaluable record of her long and adventurous life.

Dad inherited this humungous collection when Mum died in 2000. But it was not under his care for very long as Dad passed on just a few short months after Mum. And so the collection came to me after being packed and unpacked again at least twice more. It has been sitting in bookshelves, cupboards and boxes ever since. That is until recently when I was looking for inspiration and something to write about.

The thing that inspired me is pictured above. It is certificate in Spanish. Roughly translated it means:
“To Mr Walter G. Ough
The workers named below, of the cyanidation department in the Loreto Plant by means of this certificate, present our gratitud for the truly heroic act performed by you in saving the life of our colleague Juan Brito who was on the point of drowning in a primary cyanide mixing tank of the plant on the 3 May , but thanks to your valour and humanitarian spirit the tragedy was avoided.
We hope that you will keep this humble but sincere recognition ( of your heroism) from your grateful employees
Pachuca Hidalgo 16 May 1942

Signed
Teofilo Gabastido, Jesus Sanchez, Acturo Sanchez, Frederico Guerrero,Daniel Orozco,Ricardo Escorza, Juan Grito, Jose H. padilla, Marciano Santillan, Constantino Arteaga,Roberto Vasquez, Rito Lopez, Jose Olvera,Arnulfo Martinez, Francisco Jimenez

I then remembered a rather large cup Walter had won whilst in a swimming competition at the Torquay Leander Swimming Club. It is pictured above and was made out of a 15 “ naval gun shell case used by battleships during WW1. He had in fact won it for the third year running as reward for winning the 50 yard sprint. He was also at that time being considered for the British Olympic swimming team of 1924. From this you will gather that Dad was quite an athlete and his specialty was swimming although he did gain notoriety for his ability for high diving which he practiced off the high boards in the local pools but also off cliffs near Torquay harbour.

I also remebered the day in May 11042 when Dad appeared at the front door. We all thought he had come home early for lunch, but saw that this could not be. He was standing in his normal work clothes but soaked to the skin and covered with a grey slurry. He also smelt....the odour was acrid/ acid - indescribable, but very much of the mill where he worked. The smell in fact was that of the slurry of crushed, powdered silver ore mixed with various chemicals including cyanide. My mother recovered her usual calm poise almost immediately and marched him off the bathroom to get his clothes off and sluice him down until he recovered a more normal colour and appearance. It is incredible to think that he survived without any sign of poisoning. He must have kept his mouth firmly closed when he jumped int the tank where Juan Grio was struggling to live. That he had no sign of physical injury is also remarkable, because the tank contained a lot of machinary, including blades on a shaft driven by electric motors to mix the slurry and keep it fluid. How he avoided all that and still managed to grab Juan and get him to the side of the tank where he could be pulled out was nothing short of a miracle.

Juan Grito had benfited from not only Walter’s bravery on that day in May 1942 ,but also from his athletiticism and great skiils as a swimmer.

Unfortunately the tale ended very sadly because shortly after Juan Grito had survived a near drowning in the poisonous slurry , he went to spend his weekly wage in one of the local “pulquerias” ( local pub selling pulque) in Pachuca where he got into a drunken fight with another hot headed local and was knifed. He did not recover. Pachuca was a rough mining town in those days and that sort of incident was a fairly regular occurrence.

Anyway not only was Dad’s valour recognized by his subordinate workers in the Loreto Mill, he was also awarded an imposing medal in recognition.

Typically, Dad never spoke about what he had done and never explained what had happened that day when he had returned home soaking wet and smelling of cyanide. He left long forgotten and much packed memorabilia to speak for him long after. I hope this small effort has done him justice.

Ough Family Memories
Walter Glanville Ough