On the 22nd of May, 1915, 225 men out of a total 500 were tragically killed when their troop train taking them to Liverpool to board a troopship and thence to the Dardanelles was involved with two other trains.
The majority of these men and boys were from Leith where the Battalion had its headquarters in the Drill Hall, Dalmeny Street, Leith.
This took place at Quintinshill near Gretna, and ironically Lockerbie, the site of the plane disaster in December, 1988.
This was due to negligence on the part of two railway signalmen; they had left an unattended train stationary on the down-line. Within a few minutes, the troop train collided with this. The carnage spread over onto the up-line with survivors all around.
Next thing, an express train from London raced up the up-line and crashed into the wreckage strewn in front of it.
The troop train had been brought back into service. Being mainly of wooden superstructure, and lit with gas lamps the storage gas cylinders beneath it erupted causing an inferno.
Only 65 men out of the total were able to resume active service.
The military funeral of 100 men took place in Leith on the 24th May to Rosebank Cemetery.
That Morn in May
The Gretna Holocaust
There are stories told of battle,
Of the cannons' roar and rattle,
And the gruesome carnage of the crimson field;
But search ye history's pages,
Where the war fiend ruin wages
And to none the tale of Gretna sees to yield.
The old grey Port was sleeping,
And it's dreams sweet vigil keeping,
O'er its gallants who had gone to face the foe;
And in fancy it saw glory
Weaving out another story;
How the Seventh lads had struck a vital blow!
There were heroes in the making,
Of this ancient corps' leave-taking –
Going forth to bear the burden of the brunt;
And their spirits seem to brighten,
And their nerves begin to tighten,
As their thoughts went out to battling at the front.
And the troop train, onward speeding,
Left no time for idle heeding,
And welcome slumber sought their wearied eyes;
In that sleep some fondly dreaming
Of dear home, as to them seeming
Near at hand, with all it's many loving ties.
Then there came a sudden crashing,
Such a mingled noise and smashing,
And piercing cries of horror rent the air;
Then arose that awful vision!
Which accompanies collision!
The fire-fiend with his dreaded, ghastly glare!
Oh! To think of that May morning,
When, without the slightest warning,
Our gallants to their death were quickly hurled;
Ere yet they'd crossed the Border,
Or formed in martial order –
Or their colours on the field they had unfurled.
Many brave lives there were ended,
Many suffering souls befriended,
And many a hero died on Gretna's field;
Whilst, amid loud lamentation,
Throughout our stricken nation,
The glory of the Seventh there was sealed.
And on that eventful morrow,
The old grey Port in sorrow
Hung down its head upon its children's bier;
Ye it felt that there was glory,
In dire Gretna's deathless story,
For men that morn faced death without a fear.
Restalrig
(Published 13 May 1916)
Forever Heroes among us Oldleithers
The majority of these men and boys were from Leith where the Battalion had its headquarters in the Drill Hall, Dalmeny Street, Leith.
This took place at Quintinshill near Gretna, and ironically Lockerbie, the site of the plane disaster in December, 1988.
This was due to negligence on the part of two railway signalmen; they had left an unattended train stationary on the down-line. Within a few minutes, the troop train collided with this. The carnage spread over onto the up-line with survivors all around.
Next thing, an express train from London raced up the up-line and crashed into the wreckage strewn in front of it.
The troop train had been brought back into service. Being mainly of wooden superstructure, and lit with gas lamps the storage gas cylinders beneath it erupted causing an inferno.
Only 65 men out of the total were able to resume active service.
The military funeral of 100 men took place in Leith on the 24th May to Rosebank Cemetery.
That Morn in May
The Gretna Holocaust
There are stories told of battle,
Of the cannons' roar and rattle,
And the gruesome carnage of the crimson field;
But search ye history's pages,
Where the war fiend ruin wages
And to none the tale of Gretna sees to yield.
The old grey Port was sleeping,
And it's dreams sweet vigil keeping,
O'er its gallants who had gone to face the foe;
And in fancy it saw glory
Weaving out another story;
How the Seventh lads had struck a vital blow!
There were heroes in the making,
Of this ancient corps' leave-taking –
Going forth to bear the burden of the brunt;
And their spirits seem to brighten,
And their nerves begin to tighten,
As their thoughts went out to battling at the front.
And the troop train, onward speeding,
Left no time for idle heeding,
And welcome slumber sought their wearied eyes;
In that sleep some fondly dreaming
Of dear home, as to them seeming
Near at hand, with all it's many loving ties.
Then there came a sudden crashing,
Such a mingled noise and smashing,
And piercing cries of horror rent the air;
Then arose that awful vision!
Which accompanies collision!
The fire-fiend with his dreaded, ghastly glare!
Oh! To think of that May morning,
When, without the slightest warning,
Our gallants to their death were quickly hurled;
Ere yet they'd crossed the Border,
Or formed in martial order –
Or their colours on the field they had unfurled.
Many brave lives there were ended,
Many suffering souls befriended,
And many a hero died on Gretna's field;
Whilst, amid loud lamentation,
Throughout our stricken nation,
The glory of the Seventh there was sealed.
And on that eventful morrow,
The old grey Port in sorrow
Hung down its head upon its children's bier;
Ye it felt that there was glory,
In dire Gretna's deathless story,
For men that morn faced death without a fear.
Restalrig
(Published 13 May 1916)
Forever Heroes among us Oldleithers
On the 22nd of May, 1915, 225 men out of a total 500 were tragically killed when their troop train taking them to Liverpool to board a troopship and thence to the Dardanelles was involved with two other trains.
The majority of these men and boys were from Leith where the Battalion had its headquarters in the Drill Hall, Dalmeny Street, Leith.
This took place at Quintinshill near Gretna, and ironically Lockerbie, the site of the plane disaster in December, 1988.
This was due to negligence on the part of two railway signalmen; they had left an unattended train stationary on the down-line. Within a few minutes, the troop train collided with this. The carnage spread over onto the up-line with survivors all around.
Next thing, an express train from London raced up the up-line and crashed into the wreckage strewn in front of it.
The troop train had been brought back into service. Being mainly of wooden superstructure, and lit with gas lamps the storage gas cylinders beneath it erupted causing an inferno.
Only 65 men out of the total were able to resume active service.
The military funeral of 100 men took place in Leith on the 24th May to Rosebank Cemetery.
That Morn in May
The Gretna Holocaust
There are stories told of battle,
Of the cannons' roar and rattle,
And the gruesome carnage of the crimson field;
But search ye history's pages,
Where the war fiend ruin wages
And to none the tale of Gretna sees to yield.
The old grey Port was sleeping,
And it's dreams sweet vigil keeping,
O'er its gallants who had gone to face the foe;
And in fancy it saw glory
Weaving out another story;
How the Seventh lads had struck a vital blow!
There were heroes in the making,
Of this ancient corps' leave-taking –
Going forth to bear the burden of the brunt;
And their spirits seem to brighten,
And their nerves begin to tighten,
As their thoughts went out to battling at the front.
And the troop train, onward speeding,
Left no time for idle heeding,
And welcome slumber sought their wearied eyes;
In that sleep some fondly dreaming
Of dear home, as to them seeming
Near at hand, with all it's many loving ties.
Then there came a sudden crashing,
Such a mingled noise and smashing,
And piercing cries of horror rent the air;
Then arose that awful vision!
Which accompanies collision!
The fire-fiend with his dreaded, ghastly glare!
Oh! To think of that May morning,
When, without the slightest warning,
Our gallants to their death were quickly hurled;
Ere yet they'd crossed the Border,
Or formed in martial order –
Or their colours on the field they had unfurled.
Many brave lives there were ended,
Many suffering souls befriended,
And many a hero died on Gretna's field;
Whilst, amid loud lamentation,
Throughout our stricken nation,
The glory of the Seventh there was sealed.
And on that eventful morrow,
The old grey Port in sorrow
Hung down its head upon its children's bier;
Ye it felt that there was glory,
In dire Gretna's deathless story,
For men that morn faced death without a fear.
Restalrig
(Published 13 May 1916)
Forever Heroes among us Oldleithers
The majority of these men and boys were from Leith where the Battalion had its headquarters in the Drill Hall, Dalmeny Street, Leith.
This took place at Quintinshill near Gretna, and ironically Lockerbie, the site of the plane disaster in December, 1988.
This was due to negligence on the part of two railway signalmen; they had left an unattended train stationary on the down-line. Within a few minutes, the troop train collided with this. The carnage spread over onto the up-line with survivors all around.
Next thing, an express train from London raced up the up-line and crashed into the wreckage strewn in front of it.
The troop train had been brought back into service. Being mainly of wooden superstructure, and lit with gas lamps the storage gas cylinders beneath it erupted causing an inferno.
Only 65 men out of the total were able to resume active service.
The military funeral of 100 men took place in Leith on the 24th May to Rosebank Cemetery.
That Morn in May
The Gretna Holocaust
There are stories told of battle,
Of the cannons' roar and rattle,
And the gruesome carnage of the crimson field;
But search ye history's pages,
Where the war fiend ruin wages
And to none the tale of Gretna sees to yield.
The old grey Port was sleeping,
And it's dreams sweet vigil keeping,
O'er its gallants who had gone to face the foe;
And in fancy it saw glory
Weaving out another story;
How the Seventh lads had struck a vital blow!
There were heroes in the making,
Of this ancient corps' leave-taking –
Going forth to bear the burden of the brunt;
And their spirits seem to brighten,
And their nerves begin to tighten,
As their thoughts went out to battling at the front.
And the troop train, onward speeding,
Left no time for idle heeding,
And welcome slumber sought their wearied eyes;
In that sleep some fondly dreaming
Of dear home, as to them seeming
Near at hand, with all it's many loving ties.
Then there came a sudden crashing,
Such a mingled noise and smashing,
And piercing cries of horror rent the air;
Then arose that awful vision!
Which accompanies collision!
The fire-fiend with his dreaded, ghastly glare!
Oh! To think of that May morning,
When, without the slightest warning,
Our gallants to their death were quickly hurled;
Ere yet they'd crossed the Border,
Or formed in martial order –
Or their colours on the field they had unfurled.
Many brave lives there were ended,
Many suffering souls befriended,
And many a hero died on Gretna's field;
Whilst, amid loud lamentation,
Throughout our stricken nation,
The glory of the Seventh there was sealed.
And on that eventful morrow,
The old grey Port in sorrow
Hung down its head upon its children's bier;
Ye it felt that there was glory,
In dire Gretna's deathless story,
For men that morn faced death without a fear.
Restalrig
(Published 13 May 1916)
Forever Heroes among us Oldleithers
