Mae gan Archifau Morgannwg nifer fawr o eitemau sy’n adrodd hanes Heddlu Morgannwg ers ei sefydliad yn 1841. Ymhlith yr eitemau anarferol hyn mae cerdd a ysgrifennwyd gan Ringyll yr Heddlu, Caleb Morris (SH 175) yn 1918 a adwaenir yn, ‘Teyrnged i Heddlu Morgannwg’. Ar yr adeg, roedd Morris yn 48 mlwydd oed a dros yr oedran cymwys ar gyfer gwasanaeth milwrol. Yn wreiddiol o Sir Benfro, ymunodd â Heddlu Morgannwg yn 24 oed yn 1894. Roedd yn boblogaidd yn ardal Abernant a chafodd ei wneud yn Rhingyll yn 1915. Ymddangosodd yn aml yn nhudalennau’r wasg leol, gan roi tystiolaeth am achosion troseddol y llysoedd lleol. Fodd bynnag, roedd Morris yn adnabyddus yn y gymuned am ei dalent o ran ysgrifennu. Mae llawer o adroddiadau papur newydd yn y cyfnod pan roedd y gynulleidfa’n cael eu diddanu gan waith ‘barddoniaeth gyfoes’ a ‘barddoniaeth groeso’ Caleb Morris. Roedd hyn yn awen a ddefnyddiodd yn 1918 i gynhyrchu ei waith, ‘Teyrnged i Heddlu Morgannwg’. Ei nod oedd dathlu dynion yr Heddlu a oedd wedi ymuno â’r lluoedd arfog i ymladd yn y Rhyfel Mawr. Gwnaeth cannoedd o ddynion o’r Heddlu adael eu swyddi i ymuno â’r lluoedd a bu farw 92 ohonynt.
Mae’r gerdd wedi’i hargraffu’n llawn ar ddiwedd yr erthygl hon. Mae’n adrodd hanes digwyddiadau penodol, gan gynnwys yr ymgais diffuant i atal yr Almaenwyr ar ddechrau’r Rhyfel. Fodd bynnag, gan amlaf mae’n trafod llwyddiannau dynion penodol. Er enghraifft, Fred Smith, a oedd yn Archwilydd yr Heddlu ym Mhen-y-bont ar Ogwr ar ddechrau’r Rhyfel, a oedd hefyd yn enwog am ei ddawn rygbi gan chwarae ar ran Caerdydd a Phen-y-bont. Roedd gan Fred brofiad milwrol helaeth, gan ymladd yn y Rhyfel Boer fel Prif Ringyll Catrodol yn yr Iwmyn Morgannwg, lle enillodd y DCM. Yn ystod y Rhyfel Mawr fel Is-gyrnol Smith, arweiniodd yr 16eg Bataliwn (Dinas Caerdydd) Catrawd Cymru lle enillodd y DSO. Ar ôl y Rhyfel, aeth yn ôl i’r heddlu gan gael ei benodi’n Prif Uwch-arolygydd yn Nhregŵyr.
Mae’r gerdd hefyd yn adrodd hanes un o enwogion Heddlu Morgannwg, Prif Ringyll Cwmni, Dick Thomas. Ymunodd Dick Thomas â’r heddlu yn 1904 a chafodd ei wneud yn Rhingyll a’i leoli ym Mhen-y-bont ar Ogwr yn 1913. Roedd yn enwog iawn fel chwaraewr rygbi penigamp dros Ben-y-bont, Aberpennar a Chymru. Yn benodol, chwaraeodd ar ran y tîm Cymreig cyntaf i ennill y Grand Slam yn 1908. Mae’n cael ei gofio fel un o arwyr ymosodiad Catrawd Cymru ar safleoedd cadarn yr Almaen ym Mametz Wood ar 7 Gorffennaf 1916.
Un o hanesion trist y gerdd yw hanes James Angus, a oedd yn dod o Aberhonddu’n wreiddiol. Ymunodd Angus â Heddlu Morgannwg yn 1893, a chafodd ei leoli yn Y Barri ac Abercynon. Fel Fred Smith, roedd ganddo brofiad milwrol. Roedd ei dad wedi ymladd gyda Cyffinwyr De Cymru yn y Crimea, ac roedd James Angus wedi ymladd gyda Gwarchodlu’r Grenadier yn Rhyfel y Boer. Yn 1914, ymunodd ag 16eg Bataliwn Dinas Caerdydd Catrawd Cymru. Ar ôl cael dyrchafiad i fod yn Is-gyrnol, roedd yn Gadlywydd Gweithredol 11ed Bataliwn ’Cyffinwyr De Cymru pan fu farw yn sydyn mewn damwain nofio ym mis Medi 1917.
Mae’r gerdd hefyd yn ymdrin â digwyddiadau’n agosach at adref, gan ganmol y dynion fel Morris a oedd yn gorfod aros yng Nghymru ond a oedd yn chwarae ‘eu rhan’ i ennill y Rhyfel. Yn ychwanegol i hyn, mae teyrnged hirfaith i’r Prif Gwnstabl, y Capt Lionel Lindsay, am ei arweinyddiaeth yn ystod blynyddoedd y Rhyfel. Roedd Lindsay wedi ymuno â’r Heddlu fel Uwch-arolygydd ym Merthyr yn 1889. Cymrodd le ei dad, Henry Gore Lindsay, fel Prif Gwnstabl yn 1891 ac roedd yn y swydd tan 1937.
Mae’r gerdd yn gorffen gyda naws eithaf tywyll, yn adrodd hanes miloedd o fenywod a oedd yn ofni’r post pob dydd rhag ofn iddynt gael newyddion am farwolaeth un o’u hanwyliaid. Byddai cludo llythyrau a thelegramau o’r fath yn ddigwyddiad arferol mewn cymunedau lleol yng Nghymru. Byddai Caleb Morris yn sicr wedi poeni am fywyd ei unig fab, David, a oedd yn y Llynges Fasnachol. Roedd David yn swyddog ar longau W J Tatem and Co, Caerdydd. Cyn belled ag y gwyddom ni, bu fyw trwy’r Rhyfel, ond roedd yn lwcus. Ym mis Mai 1918, roedd gan yr Aberdare Leader fanylion am ei ddychweliad o India ar yr SS Madras. Bu ymosodiadau ar y confoi’r naill ffordd a’r llall gan longau tanfor yr Almaen, ac fe gollwyd chwech o longau. Adroddwyd… … one torpedo missed the bow of Sec Officer Morris’ ship by only a yard or two and struck the next ship which was alongside.… [Aberdare Leader, 18 Mai 1918].
Argraffwyd copïau o deyrnged Caleb Morris yn y Western Mail am bris o 3d y copi. Roeddent yn boblogaidd tu hwnt, ac ym mis Mehefin 1918, adroddwyd bod £67 11s wedi’i godi, gan awgrymu bod dros 5400 o gopïau wedi’u gwerthu. Rhoddwyd yr elw i Gronfa’r Carcharorion Rhyfel Cymreig. Roedd Caleb Morris yn gweithio yn gyda Heddlu Morgannwg am 26 mlynedd, gan ymddeol yn 50 oed ym mis Mawrth 1920.
Tony Peters, Gwirfoddolydd Archifau Morgannwg
A Tribute to the Glamorgan Constabulary
Respectfully dedicated to Captain Lionel Lindsay, MVO, Chief Constable
I’ll sing a song of heroes true,
Known to you as ‘Men in blue’.
The gallant members of the Force
Are never wanting in resource;
When Britain’s sword flashed in the light
For Belgium’s liberty and right,
The brave Glamorgans honour bound
Exchanged their beats for battle ground.
Four hundred men as true as steel
Knew how to march with toe and heel;
They knew their rifle and their drill,
A dauntless band with iron will.
These men that would not break or yield
Could now command upon the field.
A smarter lot of army men
Was never known to human ken.
They hailed from Porth and Mountain Ash,
That ‘Scrap of Paper’ made them rash.
They left Bridgend and Aberdare,
Took up their guns and did their share;
From Briton Ferry jovial Ben
Rejoined his unit there and then:
And now a captive with the Hun,
May God be with him when alone.
From Port Talbot, Pentre, Barry,
On their journey did not tarry.
Every Hamlet, Town and Village
Were responsive to the Message.
Men from all the Shire’s divisions
Joined the battle of the Nations.
A spirit moved within each breast
That hurried them to do their best.
With solemn vow and eager heart,
Determined all to play their part.
Never yet had they been thwarted
In a venture once ‘twas started.
Ere the middle of September
Many crossed the Straits of Dover;
Forward march through France and Flanders,
Till they met the Goosestep dancers,
‘Got in Himmel Donner Wetter’,
Blood was running there like water.
The BEF with wounded arm
Gave Kaiser William the alarm,
His dreams of Paris and Calais
Evaporated on that day.
The soldiers said, and still repeat,
That Angels fought in that retreat.
Like lightening flash or human thought
A modern miracle was wrought;
The British caused a German rout;
Attila’s millions turned about.
The Huns retreated to the Aisne,
A sorry plight for men so vain.
Many a policeman’s blood was shed,
And some were numbered with the dead.
Among the men who crossed the foam
To fight for Country, King and Home,
Was Colonel Smith of football fame,
To-day he plays the sterner game:
Fred was mentioned in despatches,
How he fought the cruel Bosches;
His clever tactics foiled the foe,
His merit won the DSO
May further honour be in store
‘Till Smith commands the Army Corps.
Another star looms on the view,
A credit to the Men in Blue;
Brave Colonel Angus made a stand
That brought distinction and command;
A Grenadier to the core,
He won his spurs against the Boer.
As true a man as wore a sword
Or stood before the German Horde,
But sad to me ‘tis to relate
How Angus met his mournful fate;
For when he was with honour crowned
A message came that he was drowned.
For acumen and gallantry
His name will long remembered be.
Another hero, strong and tall,
A master with the gloves and ball,
A football player lithe and bold,
An International of old.
He won his cap for strength and dash-
I mean Dick Thomas, Mountain Ash;
As Sergeant Major at the Front
Was in the van, as e’er his wont.
Poor Dick is numbered with the slain,
And buried on a foreign plain;
He met his death with smiling face,
‘Twas worthy of a gallant race.
And Corporal Jones of Cynon Town,
Who joined the Guards and won renown;
A man of truly valiant worth,
A giant he, in length and girth;
He won a medal for his pluck,
But lost a limb, what bitter luck.
Poor Jim will never march again
To music of a martial strain.
Could I but weave as Poets can,
I’d sing a song to very man.
All deserve their names to glitter
On a shield in gold and silver;
One and all without exception
Are worthy of the British Nation.
Many a gallant deed was done,
The twentieth part will ne’er be sung.
Behind the lines the crosses tell
How brave Glamorgans nobly fell.
Many are to-day for valour
Numbered on the Scroll of Honour;
For ‘Robert’s’ always in the van,
A soldier, constable and man.
Three hundred men were left at home,
They could not sail across the foam.
The DSO and DCM
Will ne’er be won by one of them.
They too deserve a word of praise
For arduous work in anxious days,
Willing service to the Country
Yet may win a star or bounty.
Their patience, tact and courtesy
Disclose inherent chivalry.
Our gallant Chief, and friend in need,
To all of us a friend indeed;
The martial mien his Giants bear,
A triumph to his special care.
Every man a Drill Instructor-
Aye, and ready for the Sector.
There’s not a Force throughout the Realm
With better Captain at the helm.
His ancient lineage, gentle birth,
Add lustre to intrinsic worth.
A Chieftain he whose loyalty
Was honoured by our Royalty.
The deeds he’s done since war began
Are worthy of the Lindsay Clan.
A valiant Chief of noble heart,
To King and Country plays his part;
And when his men return again
They will not seek his aid in vain.
His name will ever revered be
For honour and fidelity.
Another Gentleman we know,
Brave Colonel Williams, DSO.
A man respected in the Shire,
Descendent of a noble sire;
Grandson and a worthy scion
To ‘Alaw Goch’ of Ynyscynon.
He early won his King’s reward
As Captain of the Celtic Guard;
Before this War the Welshmen had
To wear Grenade of Gaelic pla’d,
His love of Wales and his Nation
Brought to pass the Welch Battalion.
(Ye Giant Welshman, service seek,
‘Cymru am Byth’, go! Don the leek;
When a Teuton you encounter
Make him eat the leek for dinner;
Treat him as the bold Glendower
Treated Pistil for his bluster.)
When War is o’er and Peace shall reign
May he come back to Wales again,
For Wales can ill afford to lose
The man that won that Cross at Loos.
I’d love to touch a finer chord,
If but the Muse with my accord,
For now I tread on holy ground
Where the bereaved are to be found.
Ye women brave, whose hearts have bled
For husbands, sons and lovers dead;
Yon brave Soldier-sons of Gwalia
Sleepeth in that Grand Valhalla.
My inmost soul with pain is strung,
I can’t express with human tongue,
The pain and sorrow that is wrought:
Though glory won, ‘tis dearly bought.
There’s not a herb, however good,
That ever has or ever could,
Or great physician’s healing art,
Can heal the wounds of broken heart;
There’s only One, the Lord above,
That knows the depth of woman’s love.
All through the watches of the night
They never sleep till morning light.
They watch the postman from afar,
The door is left upon the jar.
The mother peeps behind the blind
And prays that fate at last is kind.
The Postman passes with a will,
The Mother’s heart is standing still.
Sometimes the truth is grim and hard:
Her boy lay buried in the sward.
O what is sorrow? Who can tell?
‘Tis only them that love too well.
The anguish, pain and poignant grief
Beyond the conception and belief.
God of Mercy, stretch forth Thy palm
And give Thy children healing balm.
Caleb Morris, SH 175. Abernant, Aberdar.
Archifau Morgannwg 