-21- CHAPTER II Prior to August, 1914, the Barr family, like other average middle class Scottish families, had gone our tranquil way, enjoying our life. By our standards, it was a good life, a happy life. There was steady work, a comfortable home, family members who got along well, and industrious, law abiding parents. What more could one ask for in the early 1900's? Then things happened with a suddeness that shook the entire country. On Sunday, August 4, 1914, a day that I will never forget, Britain declared war on Germany and Austria. Everyone was excited and full of patriotism. The Army and Navy couldn't begin to handle the thousands of young men who rushed to join the colors. Age eighteen was the youngest the Army was recruiting, but shortly after the war began, the Conscription Act was passed and the minimum age for call up was lowered to 171/2 years, but no overseas service until 18. Pipe and brass bands from the local Glasgow regiments paraded through the streets with volunteers, eager to enlist, falling in behind them. I'm sorry and sad to say that I have read that about 75% of these young men, healthy and the cream of the crop of British youth, were later killed or wounded in battles all over the world. These young Scots spilled their blood in Belgium, France, Egypt, Turkey, East and West Africa, Greece and the Balkans. Many left their homeland forever, never to return. Some were killed early in the war, while others managed to survive for two or three years. My older brother Archie had started his apprenticeship with a scientific instrument company in Glasgow, the Kelvin and James White Company. They designed and manufactured all types of scientific instruments, especially those used on ships, such as compasses, gun sights, rangefinders, binoculars, telescopes, etc. This was a good company to work for and an especially good place for Archie to learn his trade. He was very happy here for many a year.
Transcript
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CHAPTER II
Prior to August, 1914, the Barr family, like other average middle class Scottish families, had gone our tranquil way, enjoying our life. By our standards, it was a good life, a happy life. There was steady work, a comfortable home, family members who got along well, and industrious, law abiding parents. What more could one ask for in the early 1900's?
Then things happened with a suddeness that shook the entire country. On Sunday, August 4, 1914, a day that I will never forget, Britain declared war on Germany and Austria. Everyone was excited and full of patriotism. The Army and Navy couldn't begin to handle the thousands of young men who rushed to join the colors.
Age eighteen was the youngest the Army was recruiting, but shortly after the war began, the Conscription Act was passed and the minimum age for call up was lowered to 171/2 years, but no overseas service until 18.
Pipe and brass bands from the local Glasgow regiments paraded through the streets with volunteers, eager to enlist, falling in behind them. I'm sorry and sad to say that I have read that about 75% of these young men, healthy and the cream of the crop of British youth, were later killed or wounded in battles all over the world. These young Scots spilled their blood in Belgium, France, Egypt, Turkey, East and West Africa, Greece and the Balkans. Many left their homeland forever, never to return. Some were killed early in the war, while others managed to survive for two or three years.
My older brother Archie had started his apprenticeship with a scientific instrument company in Glasgow, the Kelvin and James White Company. They designed and manufactured all types of scientific instruments, especially those used on ships, such as compasses, gun sights, rangefinders, binoculars, telescopes, etc. This was a good company to work for and an especially good place for Archie to learn his trade. He was very happy here for many a year.
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In the meantime, Archie had joined the Territorials, which was similar to the National Guard in this country. He drilled twice a week all year long and spent two weeks each summer at an Army camp in Ayrshire. Most of the men seemed to enjoy it and came home with a good tan from living outdoors in Army tents and undergoing lots of rugged physical training.
Since Archie loved horses, he joined the Royal Glasgow Yeomanry which was a light calvary regiment. He looked good on horseback with his bandolier and calvary sword on his left side and an Army rifle in a boot on his right side.
One had to be proficient in riding and know how to take care of horses under all occasions. It was quite an achievement to be accepted by this regiment and the City of Glasgow was justly proud of having its own calvary unit.
As long as I can remember, our family spent the month of August in Dunoon, a small seaside town on the River Clyde. Dunoon is a beautiful little place and I have returned there often over the years. I suppose you could call it my "Special Little Corner of Scotland." I know that several of you have also visited Dunoon. Also, after my father retired, he and my mother moved from Glasgow to Dunoon. They are buried there in the quiet little cemetary overlooking the River Clyde. t The family plot in this same cemetary will be the final resting place for my mother and father.-Ed.]
Well, getting back to our annual holiday or vacation to Dunoon, my mother took the large steamer hamper and suitcases out of storage about a week before we left home. She packed it with clothes, including Sunday clothes, which we had to wear. There was no playing games or running around on the Sabbath; not in Scotland! After Sunday School, my mother would tell us to go out and take a nice quiet walk into the village. We were told to look into the shop windows (the shops were closed), or watch the weekend passengers at the pier as they came off the Sunday steamers.
Only two steamers ran on Sundays and many people would crowd onto them at the Broomilaw Pier in Glasgow and enjoy the leisurely sail down the Clyde. The trip took about l 1/2 hours one way and was very popular with families. Dunoon was just one of several towns on the Clyde that attracted the crowds from Glasgow.
At 7:00 and 8:00 pm. the tourists would troop back to the pier to board the boats for the return ride to Glasgow, having spent a good day in the open air. Incidentally, in those days, most men worked at least half a day on Saturday, so Sunday was the day for the family outing. [ Old time Glaswegians referred to this outing as a trip , "Doon the Watt-a." -Ed.]
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Well, that little explanation about Dunoon will give you some idea of what the month of August was like for our family prior to the war. So to get back to Archie's story, on August 1, 1914, the family arrived in Dunoon to begin our annual month's holiday. The family, that is, with the exception of my father and Archie.
Archie arrived on Saturday, August 3, to spend a week with us after returning from his two week training camp. The next day, August 4, war was declared. That very day, notices were posted on the windows of the post office, steamer pier, banks and other prominent places. The posters stated that all regular Army and Navy men on leave, all Army and Navy Reservists, and all Territorials, were to report immediately to their bases or their headquarters.
The next morning, August 5, Archie repacked his bag, said his farewells, and left Dunoon by the first boat to report to his Territorial Headquarters in Glasgow. Needless to say, he left us all with heavy hearts as we had been looking forward to his one week stay with us. By the time we returned home to Glasgow on August 30, he was in camp at Dunfermline, just north of Edinburgh.
Archie had two or three weekend leaves at home and then was shipped to Egypt in November, 1914. From Egypt, he went to Palestine, which was then held by Turkey, and sailed up the Persian Gulf to Mesopotamia, now known as Iraq. Then he took part in the ill-fated invasion at Gallipoli, went up through the Balkans to Rumania and Albania, then back to Greece where he arrived after Armistice Day, November 11, 1918.
He was shipped home and discharged in Glasgow in April, 1919. He had not been home in all the time he had served overseas. He did have several short leaves while he was overseas, but had not been home to Scotland. I had last seen Archie in November, 1914, and we did not meet
again until I myself returned home from India in late Kay, 1921; an absence of almost 7 years.
It was a warm reunion for both of us and of course, our mother and father had been worried about the two of us all these years. Archie got married in late 1921 and I was his Best Man. Mother attended the wedding, although we were not married at that time. After Archie and his wife, Jean, who incidentally was a great person, found a home of their own, Mother and I often joined them for some really good times together. The four of us were quite close until your mother and I left for the USA in 1923.
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My brother John had started work at a shipyard on the Clyde, Bartley Curles, one of the big yards. At age 16, he started his apprenticeship as a carpenter and had about 2 1/2 years of his apprenticeship completed when war broke out. In September, 1914, he enlisted in one of the Glasgow regiments, the Cameronians, which were also called the Scottish Rifles. The Cameronians did not wear the kilt, but they did wear trews, or trousers, in the Douglas tartan. They were a very popular infantry regiment in Glasgow.
John and two or three of his chums joined up together and as the Army had no camps or barracks, or even enough uniforms, he stayed at home in the evenings for the first three weeks. He reported to headquarters at 6:00 am every morning in civilian clothes for drilling and training, six days a week, 10 hours a day, until proper uniforms and equipment arrived. He was then sent to Falkirk, a small city northeast of Glasgow. John was able to come home on a couple of weekend passes, then in early December, 3 months after he enlisted, he was shipped overseas to Belgium.
John went through several of the large battles in northern France and Belgium in 1915 and 1916. These included battles at the River Somme, Amiens, Ypres, the Battle of the River Ainse, Arras, Vimy Ridge, and the first Battle of Loos.
Late in 1916, John received a 14 day leave and returned home to Glasgow. Of course, we were glad to see him. He looked good, but we could see that he had been through a lot. He gave only short answers to our questions about the fighting overseas. He did not complain.
Three of John's boyhood chums from Kerr Street had been killed at his side. I know my mother and father felt bad when he told us a little bit about the constant death, destruction and terrible suffering the troops were going through. The living conditions in the trenches were indescribable. He later told me more details about the conditions; the constant mud, the water, and the shell holes all around the troops. He also told me about the many men who fell into these shell holes after they were hit and then drowned to death in the ever present water.
Even though I was still working as an engineer at the time of his visit, we spent as much time together as possible during these short 14 days. I remember he expressed surprise that most of us at home were living an almost normal life while the men at the Front were suffering so much and going through such privations and hardships. The soldiers were short of food for days because the supplies couldn't get through to the Front due to the mud and large shell holes. Trucks and wagons containing guns, ammunition, food, medicine and supplies of all kinds were constantly bogged down due to the mud.
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As I found out for myself a year later, the living conditions for the soldiers in Belgium and France were terrible!
Finally, John's 14 days of leave at home were about to end. On his last evening, he had to return by train to Southampton, England, then board a boat for France to rejoin his regiment on the Front Lines. My mother, father and I walked with him to Central Station in downtown Glasgow in order to spend those last few minutes with him.
He had, of course, come home carrying all he owned: his full marching order; that is, his full battle dress which consisted of his kit bag, backpack, haversack, water bottle, bayonet, trenching tools, and his rifle. I carried his rifle for him, slung on my shoulder, and walked proudly beside my brother. My father carried his heavy kit bag. During the walk, little was said, but I know we all had our own thoughts.
When we arrived at the station we found it crowded with servicemen who, like John, were returning from leave. They were accompanied by their wives, children, mothers, fathers and other relatives all to saygoodbye. Unfortunately, for so many, it was really the final goodbye .
The soldiers were to catch the regularly scheduled troop train which left Glasgow for London and overseas at 11:00 pm daily. It was a sad sight; a scene I'll never forget as long as I live. Seeing and hearing the crying of the mothers, wives and children, and the clutching embraces, as if they would never let go.
The same scene took place every night, even on Sundays, all during the war. And when the conductor called, "All Aboard," I can't describe the dramatic scene, the sudden surge of all the people wanting to hug and kiss their loved ones again.
I shook John's hand, wished him luck, and said goodbye. I'll admit I was crying and my mother and father were both crying as well, so I just eased away to avoid seeing their agonizing farewells.
The train pulled away from the station; it was such a sad scene. We walked back home, saying very little but each with our own sad thoughts, as we mingled with other parents and family members of the men who had also Just left.
These were different days; no bands playing, no flags flying; just loud sobs and loving goodbyes as wives, children and parents hung onto their men for as long as possible. It was really a touching scene. I wasJust over 17 years old but this is a memory never forget.
John, my boyhood companion, and I were very close as we grew uptogether. We both had pretty much the same interests as schoolboys do everywhere. We collected cards of famous football players and as each season came along, with them came such games as marbles, spinning tops and various other things that kept us interested all day during the week.
During school vacations a bunch of us boys would get together, take a walk about a mile or so beyond the city limits, then find a quiet field, light a fire and maybe roast some potatos and fish, then have a nap. or run around in the grass. We would then wend our way back home.
John was, I think, the only child in the family, with the exception of my sister Ann, who resembled my father. All the rest of us had our mother's features. My son George, seems to be the look-alike of my father also.
Well, we had a happy childhood with an occasional argument or two. We boys also played a lot of football and the games were noisy as we had no referee, and had to decide for ourselves what was foul or fair.
John was a great football fan of the top team in the league, the Glasgow Celtics. They were like the Yankees of New York. He often spoke of his dream to someday play for Glasgow Celtic and he well may have realized his ambition. He was quite a good player and was recognized around our area as one of the best.
We used to lay in bed before going to sleep and go over some of our favorite football ganes until we fell asleep. Nearly every night he would talk about his future with the Glasgow Celtics .
My team was the Glasgow Rangers, the bitter rivals of the Celtics, and we would compare both teams, player by player. But all of this ended with a lot of other dreams on August 4, 1914.
Little did I know that when I said goodbye to John and shook his hand on that sad night in Central Station, it would be for the last time in my life. Dear John left our family forever.
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After Archie and John had gone overseas, we civilians continued with our normal jobs. Most of the men, like myself and my chums, were working in shipyards, steel mills, or defense works, as they were called. We worked 10, 12 and sometimes 14 hours per day, plus Sundays.
My father continued in his job and still stayed as busy as before, but mostly for the government driving Cabinet Ministers, Generals and Admirals on their constant visits to Glasgow to see how the war work was progressing.
My mother and father, like thousands of others, organized servicemen's clubs entertaining soldiers who were billeted in the area. They served them tea, pies, and favorite Scotch cakes baked by the ladies. The men did most of the heavier work in the kitchen and cleaning up.
My mother joined a Ladies Red Cross Auxiliary and three days a week, she worked in a special place making and rolling bandages for the Armed Forces. Most every Sunday, my mother and father would visit the Army and Navy hospitals and visit with the wounded, take cigarettes to them, and try to cheer them up. For those who were too badly wounded, my parents would write to their families. Their handwritten letters were mailed to wives, mothers and sweethearts in Scotland, England, Ireland and Wales, and many overseas to Canada, Australia, Yew Zealand, and South Africa.
The country was on a war emergency, so far as food and fuel were concerned. The city was in semi-darkness; tram cars running at half speed with a small light front and back, and another small light in the passenger area.
My oldest sister, Jenny, was married and her husband Charlie was overseas also. They had four children , but she managed to do part-time work herself. Lilly, younger than I, had a job in a printing office, part-time. All the rest of the children were still in school... Margaret, Ann, and Hughie...so we all adjusted as best we could.
I was still working at my trade at the Robertson Engineering Company building Rolls Royce armoured cars which were used by the Army extensively in Egypt and Palestine, fighting the Turks. It was very interesting work, although the hours were long. The wages had only been increased a little so we were not reaping "plenty of money" as many people claimed. It was the increased hours and the overtime that increased our wages.
I could have claimed exemption from the Army if I chose for it was after the Conscription Act was passed that an employer could claim exemption from the law and hold an employee on war work.
For the past few months, I had talked with my mother and father about enlisting in the Army. They were not too happy about it, but they knew what my plans were. They told me to think it over before I made up my mind, but I'm sure they knew in their hearts that I would enlist when I turned 18.
So on March 26, 1917, my 18th birthday, I went to the Army Recruiting Office and joined up. Then I went home and told my parents that I had taken the oath, passed the physical exam and other tests, and was now a soldier in the British Army, catagory "D 0 V". Anyone who joined the British Army after August 4, 1914, unless signing for a 12 year enlistment, joined for a "D 0 W" or Duration of War, plus 6 months.
They both took it badly at first, but were not angry. I guess with Archie and John away in wartime, they may have wished that I would stay a little longer with them. However, they knew I had wanted to do this for a long time and I'm sure they expected it. I had two days to get my affairs settled.
On the evening of March 28, my mother, father and your mother came down to Central Station to see me off to London. Your mother, Jeanie Bond and I had been going together pretty steady before that, so I guess she felt she should come to the station also.
I was to go aboard the same nightly troop train out of Central Station ...the one I told you about a little earlier. I had seen the sorrows and tragedies of this scene as a civilian, and now was taking part in the same scene as a soldier, although dressed in civilian clothes.
My thoughts turned to my mother and father and I imagined their thoughts as they saw another of their sons off to the wars . We stood awhile making small talk, and then "All Aboard" was called. My mother cried, kissed and hugged me but couldn't speak. My father shook me by the hand and only said, "So long and be good, son." He turned away with tears in his eyes.
Your mother gave me a little kiss. I guess she was a little shy in front of my mother and father. She also gave me a signet ring, the first I ever owned, which I wore all through the war until the initials had worn off and the band split. I still have it and you'll find it in my little collection of memorabilia of my early days.
By this time, I too had tears in my eyes for the parting from all of them was hard as I started out on my journey to London. My future was completely unknown to them and to me.
I settled into my seat on the train and felt that the worst was over. I found two other fellows on the train going to the same place, the Army Barracks, Grove Park, London.
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We arrived at Euston Station, London, at 8:00 o'clock the following morning. We had been notified to make our way from Euston Station to Paddington Station, London, and from there a local-train would take us to Grove Park in Southeast London, a distance of about 25 miles. Grove Park was a nice quiet suburb of London .
Since we had not been given a specific time when we should report to Grove Park, we took a short tour of this area of London, acting like typical tourists. Of course, it was all new and strange to us even though no one paid us any attention as they rushed to their work. We found a nice restaurant, had ourselves a good breakfast, and all in all, felt quite pleased so far with our new Army careers.
We then made enquiries as to how to get to Paddington Station. We arrived at Paddington and then took another train to Grove Park.
When we arrived at Grove Park, a big husky sergeant marched up to us and shouted, "All for Grove Park, fall in 'ere." We found about 20 or 25 other recruits falling in beside us. After quickly examining our papers, he lined us up in fours, and quick marched us about a mile down a quiet country road to a big building with iron gates. I remember there were sentries marching up and down. I also remember thinking, "So this is Grove Park and now I'm really in the Army."
Just before we marched through the iron gates, the Sergeant told us to snap to attention, no talking, and look straight ahead. We marched up to the sentry who was also at attention with his rifle on his shoulder. The Sergeant shouted, "Eyes Left!" and we snapped our heads around to the left. Then the sergeant shouted, "Eyes Front!" I had no difficulty with these first commands; my years with the Boy's Brigade were beginning to pay off.
We marched to a large building, then halted. The sergeant then went inside. We waited, still holding our paper and cardboard packages -containing our few possessions from our former civilian lives. We were then called into the building and our records were- checked. Then about 4:30 pm we were taken to the Ness Hall where we sat at long tables with benches. 'We had a big mug of tea, some bread and Jam and that-was our supper.
After supper we were taken to a barracks and assigned sleeping quarters. We were issued 3 boards, each about a foot wide, and two little trestles, about 6" high. We placed the boards on the trestles and had our beds! We each received two blankets, one to cover the boards and the second to cover ourselves.
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So that was my first day in the Army. I guess most of us slept alright since we were all pretty tired after traveling on the train the night before and the excitement of the day. We probably could have slept most anywhere.
The next morning the bugles got us up at 6:00 o'clock and we had to dash outside to where the wash houses were located. About 2" of snow had fallen during the night and it was very cold. We were wearing only our pants, shoes and socks and no shirt. Luckily, we had brought towels with us from home. The water coming out of the taps was icy cold and it took a lot of guts to wash ourselves down, especially with the Corporal walking up and down behind us. But we all managed and rushed back to our billets to get the rest of our clothes on.
Breakfast was at 6:30 and we were all hungry. Breakfast wasn't bad... a mug of tea, bread, butter and some kind of sausage. "Rissles", they called them and we had plenty of Rissles in the next two years. Most of us, being young and hungry, seemed to enjoy our first Army breakfast.
At 7:00 am, the bugle sounded for Parade . It was still a little chilly, but the sun was coming up as we began to go through the routine of getting our uniforms and equipment. Then back to our billets to change into khaki Army uniforms. At least, now we looked more like soldiers in our ill-fitting uniforms.
We had to buy wrapping paper and string and wrap up our civilian clothes, put on an address label and deposit the parcels in an Army van for transport to a Post Office. This done, our last ties with civilian life were behind us, and I'm sure when the parcels reached their different addresses, there must have been many a tear shed as the parcels were opened.
The rest of the day was taken up with official registrations, physical examinations, etc. It was a very busy day for all of us new recruits. We had a few short lectures so as to recognize the difference in ranks and the proper ranks to salute. Then we were transferred to a new barracks. It was a little more comfortable, but still only 3 flat boards and 2 small trestles. Most of us slept with our pants, socks and sweaters on as the barracks were not heated.
After we had been at Grove Park about four days, we had many types of K.P.: washing clothes, serving in the Cook House, working in the Mess Hall scrubbing tables, etc. This work was always done by the new recruits. Since recruits entered the Army in large numbers each day... Grove Park was used only as a Recruit Training and Records Base... there were always plenty of new men for this necessary but generally unpleasant work.
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From Grove Park we were shipped to a different area outside of London; about an hour's bus ride to the center of London. Most of us had little money and we were required to buy a lot of articles that the Army did not provide. These items were toothbrushes, shoe brushes, shoe and brass polish, polishing cloths, and other items. We were warned that after our first pay day, our kits would be thoroughly examined by an officer and if anyone was found without all of the necessary items, he would be punished with extra drill or K.P. So as new rookies, we were all on our toes to see that we bought every item listed.
We were paid regularly every Friday. After a few days we were loaded into Army trucks and sent to another area outside London, Upper Norwood. This, incidentally, is near where my sister Lilly later lived for many years. She actually lived in West Norwood, another suburb of London.
At this camp we went through our first really rugged field training: lots of exercise, marching, physical training, etc. Most of us enjoyed it, for we were young and healthy, and it was quite a change from our former lives.
In the evening we were content to hang around the billets, "Lights Out" and "Roll Call" were taken at 10:00 pm. We were up early and in bed early, so most of us thrived on it. We had a nice Canteen which was open from 6:00 until 9:30 pm. Here we could read, write letters, get tea or coffee, sandwiches, a candy bar, or cakes for a few pence.
We had a special period for rifle drill which I especially enjoyed. I don't think I'm bragging too much, but I was often chosen by our Drill Sergeant to instruct the slower learners. The Drill Sergeant, incidentally, was a big, rough, red headed man from the Irish Guards. When he gave an order, we all jumped, but if we did as he ordered, he was pretty good. He, of course, was a career Army man.
I have always wondered about that in the American Army. Remembering the many movies about the Army that I have seen, I was always surprised at the abuse and the insults the Drill Sergeants gave to the recruits during their first weeks in camp. It was strictly against British Army rules for any NCO or officer to orally or physically abuse a recruit or any soldier, no matter how long his service.
If a soldier was insubordinate or did not do his job properly, there were plenty of ways to punish him. Extra full pack drill after the regular day was over, confinement to barracks, and always plenty of Cook House and K.P. duties were usually sufficient to satisfy the NCO.
I'll always remember this Irish Guards Drill Sergeant, however, because of a particular drill he had us do with our rifles and bayonets. The trick was to snap the bayonets onto our rifles while we were standing at attention with our rifles on the ground, the butt between our feet. The drill was to "Fix Bayonets," which meant to secure the bayonets onto the end of the rifles. The Drill Sergeant would shout out, "When I says 'Fix', ya don't fix, but when I says 'Bayonets', ya whips it out and ya whups it on!"
What he meant was that when he said, "Fix", we were to snap our right hand behind our back and grasp the handle of the bayonet which was secured to our duty belt...nothing more. When the Sergeant said, "Bayonets", we had to whip the bayonet out of its scabbard or sheath, bring it out in front of us, and snap it onto the end of the rifle. The timing had to be just right so you would hear all bayonets driven home onto the rifles with one loud, "Click."
I don't know how many times we practiced this drill, but the Drill Sergeant never varied his command, and in time we no longer thought it amusing; we just wanted to get it done right so we could go onto something else.
For many years after, every time I thought of my basic training in the Army, I always thought of that big Irish Guards Drill Sergeant yelling, "When I says 'Fix', ya don't fix, but when I says 'Bayonets', ya whips it out and ya whups it on!" Some things you never forget, and that, I'm sure is what the Sergeant wanted. I know I never forgot it.
After three months of rough and rugged field training, the recruits were assigned to various other camps in and around London. I was sent to Campbellwell, a nice little busy section of London with buses and tram cars to take us in and out of the city. As we were allowed a late pass for 1:00 am, it was pretty good, and we took full advantage of it, especially on weekends if we were off duty. I spent a lot of time seeing the historic sights in London, just like a tourist. I got to know the bus routes and numbers as well as the Underground and was able to travel around like a native.
We didn't have too much money to spend since we were paid one shilling or about $.25 per day. But there was a catch to it. If we wished to send our parents or wives an allowance, we had to sign over to them half of our pay, "Three and Six", which was three shillings and six pence, or about $.80 a week. The Government then matched this and the family allowance per week then amounted to about seven shillings or $1.75 per week. Maybe not much today, but quite a bit in those days.
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My father would return to me, as most fathers did, the three shillings and six pence deducted from my pay, and on some occasions, he would add a little to it, so we managed to get along. If we did run short in the middle of the week, it wasn't too long to wait until the next Friday.
I enjoyed my days at Campbellwell and later at other camps, working in the repair and machine shops. I took tests to qualify as a Lathe Hand, passed and my pay was raised to two shillings and six pence a day. This was more than double my recruit pay, so things were pretty good for me, financially.
I had been in the Army only two months and was still going through basic training when I received some very sad news. My father sent me a letter stating that my brother John had been reported as "Missing In Action And Presumed Dead." My father enclosed the last letter John sent to the family. In this letter, he wrote of the hard fighting in which he had been engaged. I kept John's letter in my wallet all the years I was in the Army, and still have it with me in Florida. [ A copy of this letter is enclosed. My sister has the original letter from John. -Ed.]
John was reported MIA on May 17, 1917, at Arras during the Battle of Brimy Ridge. We were told later that his entire platoon, about 25 men disappeared at the same time; all 25 names were on the same Missing List. Since we received no further news, it was presumed that a landmine or a large shell got them all. Not a trace of any of them was ever found.
As you can imagine, I was quite distressed at the news. My father realized that I would be upset so he enclosed a postal money order for me in the letter. Just another example of his thoughtfulness to us.
I went at once to my Company Officer, showed him the letter from myfather and requested an Emergency Leave. He was quite sympathetic and
asked if my mother and father were both alive. I replied, "Yes, sir." He then explained to me that according to Army orders, Special Leaveunder these circumstances could not be granted if both parents
were still alive. Sorry, but that was that.
For days, weeks, and months after that, my thoughts constantly returned to John. The older brother and boyhood chum for all of my years, the friend that I had thought so much of, was gone, never to be with me again.
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In July, after I had been in the Army four months, I applied, for a 10 day leave and luckily, it was granted. I felt as if I was walking on air because I knew I was going home to Glasgow to see my mother, father, and Jeannie Bond.
Well, I arrived in Glasgow at 8:00 o'clock the next morning. This was my first visit home since I had left in March. I took the tram car to my home at 20 North Park Street. My mother met me and she hugged me and cried, then laughed, she was so happy to see me again. And I myself could hardly see or even speak to her through my own tears.
After a great home cooked meal and a quick wash up, she told me I should go and see my father, which I did. I immediately noticed a change in him since we last met. He used to be hearty and cheery, occasionally going about the house singing short and funny ditties. But now he was quiet and we had long talks about everything that had happened. He was no longer the cheery person I knew of old and it took many years before he became his old self again.
Of course, while I was home, your mother and I spent many happy hours together. We went to shows and a dance or two. I never danced so I just sat, happy to be home and to know that she was enjoying herself.
After an all too short 10 days, I returned to my camp at Campbellwell, and in September, 1917, I was sent to Salisbury Plains. This was a huge Army training area about 60 miles south of London and we knew we would soon be on our way overseas...somewhere.
Salisbury Plains was an enormous area of hundreds of acres of rolling country in Wiltshire, famous for pork and bacon. It was all Government ground; six individual camps for training Australian, New Zealand, and British Infantry and Artillerymen. There were also several small airfields for training fighter pilots of the Royal Air Force, at that time known as the Royal Flying Corps.
We went through training again and were attached to the Artillery for supplying the ammunition. We were also trained in a variety of ways to get the shells to the guns under various conditions. It was all very rugged and very intense.
I served as a motorcycle dispatch rider for about two months at Salisbury Plains before we packed up in early December, 1917, and were sent to Southampton, then on over to Calais, France.
Incidentally, Salisbury Plains was the holding area for the Allied troops a generation later as they prepared for D-Day, June 6, 1944, and I'm sure that many American G.I.'s will remember this place.
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After landing at Calais, we gradually moved our convoy towards Belgiumand the Front Line. We were in some areas for many weeks and moved forward or back as the orders came. It was here that I also did a bit of motorcycle work as the trucks would roll. Two or three of us would ride up and down the convoy keeping the trucks in line and the proper distance apart, or bring back any news of accidents or breakdowns. No radios in those days.
We had one bad scare in March, 1918. One foggy day the Germans launched a big attack which, happily for us, turned out to be a failure. The Germans gained a lot of ground in this area and advanced for over 20 miles capturing guns, tanks, convoys of trucks like our own, ammunition, and even took some airfields far behind the lines. Thousands of British soldiers were taken prisoner. Replacement troops, consisting of clerks, cooks, bakers, office help and transport workers, including our unit, were rushed up to the lines, to try and stop the advancing Germans. It was touch and go for days.
Field Marshall Sir Douglas Haig, the Supreme Commander of the British Forces, issued a special order for all troops to fight to the last man. He said our backs were to the wall and everybody had to stand firm. I once had a copy of this order but it has long since been lost.
Thousands of British soldiers were killed, wounded or captured during these hectic two weeks as reinforcements were rushed over from Britain . Finally, the Germans could push forward no more and they were being killed, wounded and captured in huge numbers also. They ran out of supplies, and eventually everything was at a. standstill. Our lines held firm.
Then the Germans began retreating slowly, a few miles each day. It was a great relief, although most of us had our hearts in our mouths during that period.
At the time, we did not know that the German push was on such a large scale. By the end of March, the Allies started to push gradually ahead. In October, the weather was getting colder and the Front Line was getting closer to Germany. Finally, the Germans asked for an armistice. After a few days of negotiating, the terms of the Armistice were agreed upon, and as you all know, World War I came to a sudden end at 11:00 am, November 11, 1918.
What a relief! There were no elaborate celebrations at the Front; just a lot of handshakes all around and quiet talking. Of course, the question on everyone's lips was, "When are we going home?" There were celebrations-in the cities of Britain, France, Belgium and America, I know, but not at the Front. Like all soldiers down through history, we were tired. We just wanted to go home.
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We were not allowed to fraternize with the German soldiers, although a few on both sides, especially the Germans, occasionally broke the rules by exchanging souvenirs and cigarettes and a few songs.
On Armistice Day, we stopped near a small Belgian town called Valencies and stayed there until the middle of December. Then we were ordered to move to the town of Arras, France, to await further orders for transfer to Britain and discharge. Little did I know then that I would return to Arras, France, many years later, but under very different circumstances.
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CHAPTER III
The new Army of Occupation was composed of fresh young draftees from Britain. They were issued brand new uniforms and equipment so as to make an impression on the German people. Very few of the men who had been fighting at the Front from 1914 through 1918 ever went to Germany with the Army of Occupation.
Since Armistice Day, none of the Allied Armies, and I think that includes the American Army, had entered Germany. The German Army was allowed to march from the last battle lines in Belgium and France, back to Germany, weeks before the Allied Armies marched in with the new Army of Occupation.
We were pretty comfortable in our new billet at Arras, France. The billet was an old French laundry that had been shelled to pieces. As I remember, only two small buildings still had roofs on them. Our drivers slept in their trucks on homemade cots and were fairly comfortable.
We had three workshop trucks and a spare parts truck, and together with the officers, clerks, cooks , etc. we then moved into the two small buildings and made ourselves as comfortable as possible. We built our own beds and through our travels, had managed to get an extra blanket or two.
We had regular hot meals again as well as shower baths, which we built. We worked regular hours during the day, but had no fixed time when we had to be in our beds. Reveille was at 6:00 am, breakfast at 7:00, but there were no parades and no guard duty. The German prisoners swept the floors, did K.P. duty, and kept the latrines clean. So there we were, living pretty good under the circumstances.
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During the time I was stationed at Arras, I searched around the area to see if I could find any information about my brother John, for he had been in this area when he had been reported missing. I toured the old battlefields with several of my pals, looking for graves of British soldiers. We saw many graves of soldiers of the Scottish Rifles and the Canadian Mounted Rifles, who were killed in the same battle as my brother, but we never found a trace of John.
There were no regular cemetaries then, just small fields where graves had been hastily dug. These graves were often the places where the soldiers had fallen. There were clusters of graves, just a mile or two apart. It was a deeply emotional experience to go through these battle fields and still be able to see the thick mud, battered trenches, old boxes of ammunition, shell casings, and all the debris of war still lying around. I'll never forget the sight of the shell holes almost touching each other. They were still filled with grimy, stagnant water which took the lives of many wounded soldiers who drowned after being hit.
This is what hundreds of thousands of soldiers endured and lived and died with...cold, driving rain most of the tine...while fighting to gain a few miles and sometimes only yards and for what? Politicians and generals with absolutely no experience of modern warfare. Even though the generals were professionals, most of them were 50 and 60 years of age, but still conducting a war as they did in the 1800's, complete with calvary charges .
These leaders were so far behind the Front in their headquarters that many of the top commanders never visited the trenches and couldn't believe the conditions at the Front when they saw them after the Armistice. One of the top commanders was so astounded when he saw the actual battlefield, that he said, "My God! Is this where we ordered our men to live and fight and die? I don't believe it."
Well, Arras was a pretty sad looking place; just a pile of rubbish, as were most of the towns in Western France and Belgium. Towns and villages had been obliterated; some with only a wooden sign stuck in the rubble of the main square stating that, "This is such and such avillage." The ruins were infested by rats as big as cats feeding on what? God only knows!
Water for drinking and cooking was very scarce. Most of the wells had been poisoned, so we were supplied by our own water trucks brought in from several miles behind the lines. It was all so devasating and it looked as if the place would never be rebuilt.
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I was still billeted in the old laundry in Arras, and the days just passed on. Sometimes we had to work all night, but other times we had some leisure hours and we managed to find a soccer ball from somewhere and had several good games in the evenings.
This is the place where I made my two vases from German shells which I had carried with me for a while. Bob now has one and my sister, Lily, in London has the other one.
In the little village of St. Paul, France, two of my pals, both Englishmen, one from Birmingham and the other from Hull, and I had been reading a poster about the new British Army being formed for overseas duty. One could sign up for two years and get two months leave and abonus of 20 pounds.Another offer was to sign for three years service
and get three months leave and a bonus of 30 pounds; or four years service, three months leave and a 40 pound bonus.
The three of us discussed it several times and then applied to the Company Commander, Major Bill Brown, an old Calvary Officer in the regular Army. He called us into his office and we had a very thorough conversation of the entire matter. He reviewed all of my records with me, including my discharge papers. He gave us some good advice and spoke of the advantages of reenlistment and said that he thought the two year period would be the best for us. He told us we had had a pretty rough time here. If you join up, he said, we would go back to England and get brand new uniforms, which we badly needed. Each of us had only one pair of pants, one tunic, two shirts and two pairs of socks, plus our overcoats.
If we reenlisted, we would also be entitled to higher pay, since it had been raised starting July 1, 1919. Major Brown said that we would probably be sent to the Far East, India, China, or Malaya. We could see something of the world and still have a two month leave at home to look forward to.
We knew that jobs at home were pretty scarce and the civilian population was still on food rations. We gave the subject a lot of thought and decided it would be a good idea to reenlist. We asked the Major to enlist us then and there.
We took a new Oath of Allegiance, signed some papers, and that was that. We would be soldiers for another two years.
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Two days later I received a notice to get all of my equipment together by 10:00 am, and that morning I boarded an Army truck taking me to a railroad station for shipment home to Britain. I felt really good about this so I said my goodbyes to my pals, most of whom I had known since my first days in the Army. All wished me luck.
At the railroad station, we were loaded into French railroad stock cars, and after several stops, we finally arrived about five miles from Calais, France, on the coast.
We were fed a hot meal, shown to temporary quarters and early the next morning, were roused out to go through a special inspection and clean up. We packed our personal belongings in a little bag and were given numbered tags to tie on the bags. We then handed this bag over to a soldier for safekeeping in a special room. The identification card we were given for the bag containing our personal effects was known as a "Birthday Card."
We were then told to strip completely except for then entered another room where two Army doctors physical examinations. They were very concerned picked up a skin disease. From here we were led long, hot shower bath.
our shoes and hat. We gave us complete that any of us had into the shower for a
We then went into another room where we were given new socks, shirts, and underwear. We waited about 10 or 15 minutes. In the meantime, our pants and tunics had been put through a delousing process. This consisted of large cubicles where our clothes were hung up, put into another tight compartment and exposed to chemicals for about 10 minutes, then brought out to us. Our clothes had a real funny smell and were stiff and sticky. But we certainly felt clean. The Army wanted to be certain we would not be carrying any lice or other vermin into Britain.
We exchanged our "Birthday Cards" for our bag of personal effects, then were lined up by fours, with an officer in charge, and marched towards the seaport of Calais. We got lost once and nearly marched into the English Channel, but finally reached a nice, clean British Army camp with brand new huts.
We were issued the usual three board bed , and of all things, three brand new blankets. We had a hot meal then into bed. We were tired, but glad that after all these months, we were on our way home to "Old Blighty." [ "Old Blighty" was the nickname given by the British soldiers for England. -Ed.]
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Early the next morning we were on a ship headed west. In about an hour we were going down the gangplank and walked onto British soil again into the town of Dover. A troop train awaited us; we boarded quickly and were on our way north to Camp Ripon, located in Yorkshire, England. This was a large camp used all during the war.
At Camp Ripon we went through more processing of our papers, then turned in all of our government equipment , complete to the last bullet. The only things we were left with were our own personal items, the uniform we were wearing, and our overcoat. I received my travel papers and left Camp Ripon and headed for home, 20 North Park Street, Glasgow, Scotland, via Edinburgh.
The time was April, 1919, and I was reunited with my family, including' my older brother, Archie, whom I had not seen since late 1914. It was a pleasant homecoming and I found my mother and father a little cheerier than before, probably because the war was over and Archie and I were safely home again. C On page 23, Dad mentioned meeting Archie again in May, 1921, after his return from India; an absence of 7 years.-Ed.)
Archie had returned to his old Job as a scientific instrument maker and settled back into civilian life again. My mother would not entertain the idea that John was dead. She was certain that he had lost his memory and was wandering around Europe, or was in a German Prisoner of War camp.
The Swiss Red Cross was doing tremendous work for missing soldiers. They visited German hospitals and Prisoner of War camps, but they could come up with no news about my brother, John. Almost every day, the names of former soldiers the Red Cross had found were published in the papers, but never a word about John. We were all so disappointed.
Even the Records Office of the Fifth Scottish Rifles could give us no hope. Their opinion was that since the entire platoon of 25 men had disappeared without a trace, either a landrnine or a 15" artillery shell had landed in their midst and blown them to bits.
All of these people and organizations were very kind to us and really did all they could to get any kind of news for us, but no luck. Only my mother was still hopeful that John would eventually turn up. Maybe my father felt this way too, but he didn't mention it and kept histhoughts, sad as they must have been, to himself,
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Well, I enjoyed my two months leave at home. While on leave, I had my own food ration book and gave it to my mother. She combined it with the other family members' ration books when she shoppedi so I knew I was not taking anyone else's rations while I was on leave. In fact, my book allowed me the same rations as a civilian except for a full seven days a week and also some additional food that the civilians had no stamps for, such as cheese, jellies, jam, bananas, puddings, etc.
I was happy to help my mother,in this regard since they had a pretty poor time at home with the rations. As long as I was overseas I had extra rations as the Army overseas had much better rations compared to the Army in Britain. [ Apparently, British civilians and service men and women in Britain were receiving less than seven days of rations per week. -Ed.]
Mother and I had many good times together during those two months. I hadn't drawn much of my pay mhile I was overseas as there were so few places to spend our money, except for cigarettes and a cup of coffee in the canteen. I was able to take mother out to shows, movies, and dances. Of course, I didn't dance, but we went to places where she liked to go.
We visited some of our school chumsand their wives and husbands. Ye spent several days at Dunoon and Rothesay , sometimes with friends who were on vacation and of course a lot of time with family. We cherished these days together and finally the last good-bye was bid again, but of course with a little less sadness since the war was over.
I was posted to a camp at Salisbury Plains again and caught up with my two pals from England that I had reenlisted with in France. They were already in camp, so we had a happy and joyful reunion and with several others I had been with in the past.
My two pals and I tad been separated while I was in Arras, France. They had been posted to another company about 30 miles from Arras. I had not seen or heard of them since I left Arras.
We were completely equipped for the Far East. Six hundred of us were marched out of Salisbury Plains to the town of Bulford to board a troop train. As usual we had no idea of our destination except for Tilbury Docks in London where we boarded our ship, The Kiver, a Pacific and Oriental liner sailing to all points east. We left the Tilbury Docks in London during the night, and next day we were.well out to sea.
We had comfortable quarters below deck and slept in hammocks which were comfortable after we got used to them. We had good food and just a few guard duties and posts about twice during the cruise at watertight doors in case of an emergency; two hours on duty and four hours off .
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We stopped at Gibralter, Marseilles, Malta, and Port Said. .The ship sailed through the Suez Canal to Port Suez at the end of the canal then down the Red Sea to Aden. It then headed east to Bombay, India, where we arrived about three weeks later.
It was really an interesting trip for all of us. Even though we had several stormy days in the Mediterranean and Red Seas, we arrived OK and honestly, I had not been seasick once during the trip.
We were kept at the dock in Bombay until about 6 pm when we boarded a special train. We entered wooden military carriages to seat six; three on each side. The lower bunks were two cross seats and two more beds on each side which folded up during the day. The whole coach consisted of six carriages with six men in each carriage with a long narrow corridor along one side connecting all six carriages. At the front of each carriage door were two big blocks of ice. This was our air conditioner; it was pretty good while the ice lasted and a lot better than nothing, I guess these carriages had moved hundreds of thousands of British soldiers all over India in all the years India had been governed by Britain.
Our meals were prepared for us at various stops along the way. I think we spent about three days on the train as we traveled south to the city of Bangalore. This was the regular stop over for new troops coming into India to get acclimatized to the heat. This city is in the state of Mysore which has a much cooler climate, not as hot as Central or Northern India.
We slept in special square tents with many openings for air; there were little doors on each side plus four little windows. Six of us slept on regular cots, the best bed since I joined the Army! Nearby were big stone buildings with walls about three feet thick. There were verandas on all four sides and this is where we had our meals.
We were in Bangalore for two weeks then full pack again, aboard a troop train for our next assignment in the city of Bombay. There were six of us on this assignment. I lost both of my English friends again as they were sent off to different parts of India and I never saw either one of them again. We wrote back and forth for awhile, but as usual, that dropped off too.
Bombay was a far different place than Bangalore. It was old and very crowded. It was a major seaport and very hot and humid. We slept and ate in a fairly decent old Army barrack. Since we also had showers, all in all, it was pretty comfortable.
The trip by train from Bombay to Bangalore and return was very interesting. There were lots of jungle and hills but mostly fields of growing rice and corn with native villages on either side. There were many Hindu temples scattered over the countryside.
We settled down into three Motor Transport Companies. I was promoted to Lance Corporal, one stripe. I was put in charge of the light car section with about six native workers. We did all sorts of repairs on the cars and saw that they were kept in good running order. Some of our fifty men worked on trucks, ambulances and did general repairs, tires, etc., and some were drivers for the higher officers. We were sent out to relieve the men who had to be discharged as their time was up .
We had a Captain McCrow in charge of all repair work. He was a longterm Army man and had ten years in India. He was one of the smartest automobile men I ever met.
After we were there, Captain McCraw was appointed Chief Automobile Inspector of a large area, mostly in the north of India. It was his job to visit small depots and hospitals and inspect their vehicles, including ambulances. As luck would have it, he chose me as his mechanic to go with him to inspect these vehicles. He would decide after a thorough inspection whether to repair or to replace.
It was a good job and I really enjoyed it. We drove in his official car, a Hupmobile. We were away many times for a week or even two or three weeks depending on the size and distance of each place on our schedule.
I saw a lot more of India than I ever expected. Captain McCraw could speak the different dialects and languages and really knew the countryside within 500 miles of Bombay. He told me about a lot of his experiences as he traveled and hunted in the jungles. We stayed at the different places where we were quartered and fed.
After about a year of this I caught malaria. I was hospitalized, then after being discharged from the hospital, I was transferred to a place called Poona where the General Headquarters of our Army district was located. This is where the General and his staff and their families lived as it was much healthier here than in Bombay. I was assigned to the workshops there to help me recuperate from malaria.
After about four months in Poona, I was transferred back to Bombay. This was a disappointment to me after Poona, a nice area with a good climate. I was back in the crowded city of Bombay...hot, humid, and dirty. And a lot of the people there, men and officers, that I didn't know. Captain IiicCrow had been invalided out of the service owing to dysentery and everything was so different.
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Then one day a sergeant whom I had known before, in England, was temporarily in Bombay to get a replacement for one of his men who was inhospital awaiting shipment home to Britain. We were glad to see each
other again and he told me he was applying for another Lance Corporal/Mechanic to take back with him in this other man's place.
I said, "Well, what about me?" and he answered, "Would you really like to come with me to a district in the Northwest Frontier on the Khyber Pass to a place called Bashore?" This was at the entrance to the Khyber Pass in the Himalaya Mountains and very much in the limelight. The recent Afghan War had just been settled about two weeks before I got there, and things were still pretty unsettled and at times dangerous because of snipers.
Native Afghans were stealing Army rifles and ammunition. This was on the border of Afghanistan and India and it was a hotbed of trouble. It was really rough, rugged country with only two narrow roads running along the hills; one for trucks and cars and the other for horses, donkeys and camels, plus hundreds of natives roaming around. On each side of the road the mountains rose quite steeply for hundreds and hundreds of yards and was nearly all solid with rocks, with only a few small trees and shrubs around. This is where the Afghans would hide to try and ambush us as we passed through.
There were quite a few small skirmishes almost every day.Manyhundreds of camel caravans travelled the Khyber Pass from Kabul to Cahar Candahar on the other side of Afghanistan into India. These caravans had to stay close together to protect themselves from the wild Afghans who took no prisoners. The British Army had small forts built along the highways about 40 or 50 miles apart just like the U.S. Army had on the Western Plains as protection against the Indians raiding the wagon trains.
Things quieted down in late 1919 when the Royal Air Force was assigned to patrol the Khyber Pass. Many planes and pilots were lost though from flying too low and too close to clear the rocky mountainside. Those pilots who survived the crashes were captured, tortured and killed and, that was that.
Well, as my two year enlistment was nearly up, I started to move south every so often to a place called Deolali. This is the place where I had my picture taken with the entire section of Three MP Company. This is a large picture that you will see in the back of one of my albums.
Deolali was about 50 miles north of Bombay. We stayed there two weeks then were returned to Old Town Barracks, Bombay, and settled down to await further orders for our return home. In the meantime, I had been promoted to full Corporal, two stripes , while I was up in the Frontier.
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After only a week or so of waiting, we were driven to the dockside and boarded another big ex-German liner, The R.M.S. Zeppelin, which was had been captured during the war. It was 12,000 tons and a much bigger ship than the R.X.S. Kiver (8,000 tons) which brought us to India in 1919.
Over 40 soldiers of our three Motor Transport Company were aboard as well as several thousand soldiers from other regiments on their way home. Many came aboard from other ports in India, and Bombay was the last stop.
We boarded and found our spaces all laid out for us so we settled down to wait for the sailing time in an hour or two. We were alongside a very narrow dock and had to use the ship's engines to slowly back out to the tugs. As the ship backed out slowly, all the lines from the ship to the shore had been cast off. No one noticed that one of the lines had fallen from our deck into the water and had slowly wound around one of the ship's propellers. When this was discovered, we had to be towed by tugs into the harbour and anchor there while divers went down into the' water and discovered the sad news that a large steel cable was tightly wrapped around the propeller and had to be cut off.
It took about six hours for the three little tugs to shove and pull us from the dock to our anchorage. What a blow this was to everybody. Just starting on our way home, and now this!
We were in that one spot a week as the divers cut and sawed away at the cable. Every little while, a few feet of cable would be sent up and we would give "Three Cheers." All sorts of rumors flew around. A few of them were that we would be taken off the ship and returned to barracks in Bombay, or we would be loaded onto another ship and sail up the coast of India to Karachi, about 400 miles away. We also heard that we were to be landed in Turkey where riots had broken out, or landed in Egypt, where there was trouble.
But these rumors came to nothing; we just moped around, ate and slept, until finally the last of the cable was off and the propeller was free. Fortunately, there was no damage, so we set off west for Aden, the Red Sea, and home via Southampton, England.
We sailed to Aden and the Red Sea, but did not stop until we arrived at the Suez Canal. There are two lakes in the middle of the canal called the Bitter Lakes because it is so cold. These lakes are used as anchorages for larger ships to spend the night. The Suez Canal is narrow and large ships have a difficult time in maneuvering.
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We stayed overnight at Bitter Lakes and it was cold there, right enough, at night. At daylight we set sail up the Canal again and finally anchored at Port Said where the ship had to take on coal for the passage home. No oil burning steamers in those days.
We stayed at Port Said for one or one and a half days loading coal. Barges loaded with coal were tied up all around the ship and thousands of Egyptians natives, men and women, carried baskets of coal on their shoulders up the wide gangplanks onto the ship, then down into the bunkers. Coal dust settled all over everything. The noise of the loaders singing and shouting made the place seem like a beehive.
This loading went on all night until early next day and finally the ship cast loose and we headed west into the Mediterranean Sea and didn't make another stop until we finally tied up at the dock in Southampton, England. During the docking, an Army band played and people cheered. Why? I don't know.
On the dockside was an empty troop train waiting to take us to our final destination for discharge and home. We boarded our train and headed north, stopping at a place called Aldershot; the permanent and main military headquarters of the British Army for some 2a0 years. All of the permanent Army records are kept here.
We were taken to a nice permanent barracks. It was well built, sturdy and had a tiled coal fireplace at each end of the barracks room, and there was lots of coal. Each barracks, I think, housed about fifty men, with a nice clean bed and mattress for each man. This was the most luxurious of any barracks I lived in during my Army career. We also had toilets, showers and hand basins at each end of the room. Quite elaborate and of course, everything was spotlessly clean.
We were glad to get to this billet and settled down for a short nap before our supper. We had arrived at Aldershot on a Friday afternoon just before Easter, and as most of the staff had been given passes for the Easter Weekend, the Processing Office was closed until the following Monday morning.
We were given two day passes to London, so two other fellows and I went into London. Unfortunately, there was no way of getting a bed overnight, and besides, we were stopped a couple of times by the Army MP's for not being properly dressed. Two of us still were wearing our uniforms from India, so we got fed up with London and returned back to camp at Aldershot where at least we had good food and clean beds.
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On Monday morning we were up bright and early, had a good breakfast, and about 10:00 am were parading before the Commanding Officer who welcomed us back home and promised to get us processed and on our way home in a few days. He then informed us that owing to a shortage of personnel, and also missing records which had to be verified in different places, we would be delayed a few extra days. He had arranged for movies and little concerts which would help the time to pass for us. Also, we were free to go into the town of Aldershot after lunch any day until 10:00 pm so he did not bother us too much. We had hung around so much in different places since we left our companies, that a few more days did not bother us. We knew that from Aldershot on, the way pointed to home eventually.
In the meantime, we went our own ways, stayed in barracks, played cards, had some good soccer games, and spent some time in the canteen. Here we could buy coffee, doughnuts and cake, or get a nice supper if we didn't care for the Army supper. We wandered around the town or just lay in our beds and napped. We were not pestered with parades or guard duty;,. our time was our own while our discharges were being processed.
We all had a very thorough physical examination, an inspection and clothes check, as well as other details. Finally on the following Saturday morning, we were on parade with only our personal belongings and the uniforms we stood in. We were trucked to Buston station in London, and left there with our baggage, tickets, and papers, including a new Army discharge. Our train left London for Glasgow at 11:00 pm, the usual Army train for the north. The trip took about 9 hours and we were due to arrive in Glasgow about 8:00 am the next morning. My career of four years in the British Army was quickly drawing to a close.
We arrived in Glasgow on schedule at 8:00 am on a quiet Sunday mornin& I had already sent a wire to my father with my date and time of arrival and when I walked down the platform at Central Station, Glasgow, there was my father, my brother Archie, and your mother. They were all there to welcome me home again. I remember your mother hugging me as if she would never let go, and I was as bad.
We took a taxi to 20 North Park Street and on the way, we stopped to let Mother out to go to her home on Abbington Street and I told her I would stop at her place about 3:00 pm.
We arrived home and as I went upstairs, many of our neighbors had their doors open to welcome me. By the time I got into our own home, I was so happy, I had tears in my eyes. All of the family were waiting for-me; it was a family reunion; a very happy moment. I had been a long time away!
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I went around the room with my mother looking things over, and I remember her saying, "Everything is still the sane, Bobby. Nothing is changed except you. You are back home!"
We spent a few happy hours together with everybody talking and laughing. As my mother said, "Talking about nothing changing," I found one rule still being strictly observed. After Archie had arrived home, he bought a small portable Victrola, handwound in those days, and he was showing it to me. I picked up a record, I'll always remember its title, "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles", which I had never heard before, put it on, wound up the machine, and started to play it. Before a few notes had been played, my mother came rushing into the living room saying, "Bobby, you can't play that today! Did you forget that this is Sunday?" Archie laughed and said, "I told you."
Well, I shut the record player off and laughed myself as I remembered our upbringing, "To remember the Sabbath and keep it Holy." When I told my mother I was sorry, she just said, "You've been away too long, Bobby, but it will all come back to you."
We sat around talking, with everyone telling how they were doing, and even our little dog, Daisy, was jumping around, as excited as the rest of us.
After a good breakfast and unpacking my bags and packages, I distributed a few gifts and souvenirs from India. There were many "oohs" and "aahs". I then took a nap for about an hour followed by a hot bath. I sat down to polish my buttons, clean my shoes, and brush my uniform. Since I was completely free of Army rules and regulations, I did not have to wear my puttees, which were regulation uniform.
I 'got out a brand new pair of slacks with turned up bottoms, which were strictly against Army rules. I had bought them at Aldershot that week. After saying so long to the family, I set off for 7 Abbington Street, Mother's house, where I found practically the entire family: Mother's father and mother who looked so unchanged, Mother's two brothers, George and Robert, themselves only a year or so out of the Army, and of course, Mother and her twin sister, Lizzie. There were wives and husbands and several of their children also present.
Willie Ross was Aunt Lizzie's boy friend at that time and I recognized him from our school days. He had also been in the Scottish Rifles, the Seventh Battalion, and had been in Egypt and the Mediterranean during the war. Willie had been in my brother John's class at Oak Bank School and we knew each other quite well. On that day we became close and fast friends: a friendship that would last until he passed away.
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After a nice tea, Aunt Lizzie and your mother suggested we take a little walk so the• four of us, Aunt Lizzie, Willie, your mother and I set off. It was a beautiful Spring Sunday evening. We walked towards Kelvin Park, near the University of Glasgow, where Mother used to live. It seemed that the church bells all around us were ringing and Aunt Lizzie said to me, "The church people must have known you were coming home, Bob," and I agreed. I was filled with nostalgia and happy memories. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
And that day was the last time I wore my Army uniform; my four years of service were over. After all these years, I was tired of polishing buttons.
I was up early the next morning to go to my father's tailor for measurements for my new civilian suit. My father had made the date for me some weeks earlier. The tailor was an old family friend and had made my father's as well as Archie's clothes for many years.
I was anxious to try on my old clothes, which my mother had carefully kept for me in a special closet. So, out they came and after a little pressing, they looked pretty good and fit almost perfectly; at least good enough until I got into my new suit. Owing to rationing during the war, not many men bought new suits so the styles hadn't changed much.
Well, I got dressed up, white shirt and tie and off I went to the tailor's shop for my measurements and choice of material. Everything worked out fine and I was told to come back the next Friday for my first fitting.
I woke up that Friday morning, got over to the tailors and had my fitting, which was fine. I was standing outside the shop, waiting for a tramcar home when, all of a sudden I felt hot, shivered, then felt cold. Immediately, I knew what it was. The maleria had hit me again.
After a miserable ride on the tram, I arrived home and told my mother. She put extra blankets on the bed and made me a big, hot brandy toddy. I drank the toddy and it put me to sleep. It was too bad; after feeling fine all these months, and after leaving the hospital about a year before in India, it hadn't bothered me a bit. Now I was back home for less than a week, and I got it, and bad.
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I had a few bad days at home with the maleria. But then it got that I would be fine one day, but bad the next. And that was the way it went all through the summer. I had been rehired by my old boss at the Robertson Engineering Company, but finally had to give it up after a couple of weeks of every other day or so absence from work.
In the meantime, I had been seeing our old family doctor, but he could do little except prescribe quinine for me. I had taken this three times a day while in India, so I guess by now, my blood was used to it. The quinine did little good. I was lucky when I had some good days. Many a time, Mother and I would go out and then I would have to hurry home as the fever would get me.
My doctor finally made enquiries at the ex-servicemen's office and got an appointment for me to have an examination. I reported there and had a thorough physical examination and learned that I had an enlarged spleen. This is where the maleria germs had settled and never leave. Most times the fever does not start up again, but mine did. Almost 100% of the natives of the Far East have enlarged spleens and it can be dangerous if one gets a hard knock .
Well, I had to go for medication for about a week and began to recover pretty good. I went for weeks without any trouble. I received a report from the Army Board that I had been awarded a disability pension of 12 shillings or $3.00 per week, which wasn't too bad in those days. This pension was to last until November, 1922, when I was scheduled for another physical examination.
As time went on, my doctor advised me to look for an outside job instead of an indoor job. He recommended any kind of job as long as it kept me in the open air and suggested driving a light delivery van or small truck. He thought a job as a taxi driver would be ideal.
Well, I finally got a job with the same company as my father. The vehicle I drove was called a taxi, but it did not have a meter. We worked according to a rate schedule regulated by the Glasgow Police Department. The rates were established to all parts of the city and the rates were about the same as if we had had meters.
We also did a lot of private hiring, especially for weddings andfunerals. They were done at a fixed rate. The company had a franchise with two.of the Glasgow railroad stations and every day at 6:00 pm we went to one or the other of these two stations and worked out of them. We worked either the day or the night shift, changing week about. The day shift was from 6:00 am until 5:00 pm while the night shift was from 5:00 pm until 6:00 am. We were also required to work one Sunday each month.
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There were about 12 men on each shift, day and night; half at one station, and the other half at the other station. We had picked up fares at a lot of dances at night. I think the pay was about average for other jobs. We made almost as much again with our tips. All in all, it was a pretty good steady job and it suited me fine as far as my health was concerned.
One Sunday night in April, 1921, my mother invited Mother up for a visit to our house on North Park Street. We had our Sunday night High Tea and later we were all sitting around the fireplace talking. I don't remember just who was there, most of the family, I guess, but I put my hand in my pocket and gave Mother a little box. She opened it.
Everyone was surprised, for it was an engagement ring. She knew what it was as she had selected the ring earlier, but acted very surprised. And I then announced that Mother and I had at this moment become engaged to be married at some time in the future.
Everyone was very happy as my mother and father and the rest of myfamily all can along well with Mother, and I felt very proud indeed that night. I can Just picture that happy high point in my life right now as I am telling and remembering the incident.
Things went along as normal as possible. My brother, Archie, had been married a few months then and I had been his Best Man. Jean, his wife, was a grand person. She was full of life and a great joy to be with, especially in company. Mother and I spent many happy times with them in their little home in Anniesland, which was a mile or two from where we lived. We went to dances, shows, picnics and bicycle rides with them. This, of course, was before their daughter, Nessie, was born.
Well, all good things come to an end. The company I worked for had lost their franchise with the railroad stations and had to cut back a lot. Since I was very low in seniority, I was laid off in late 1922. Mother and I had been married in April, 1922, and jobs were few and far between. Many people in Glasgow were idle. Big companies laid off many of their employees. The local papers were full of articles about plenty of work in the USA and how high the wages were; $35 to $40 a week for the average worker and $40 to $50 a week for tradesmen.
These dollars, translated into pounds, almost doubled the wages paid in Britain, with the result that hundreds of men and their families were emmigrating to the USA every week. In the meantime, I had been all over Glasgow looking for a job but it seemed there were always a hundred or more people looking for the same position.
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One Sunday evening, Mother and I came to visit my parents at- their home. They had company from North Tarrytown, New York, USA. The company was Mr. and Mrs. Charlie MacFarlane who lived on Beekman Avenue, in North Tarrytown, New York. They had their two young children with them. I think some of you will remember Ian MacFarlane and his sister, Betty. Ian, I guess, was about six years of age, and Betty was about four.
The MacFarlanes were originally from Barrhead, a few miles south of Glasgow, but had been in the States since 1912. Mr. MacFarlane was acarpenter and very active in the Methodist Church. They were also active in Clan Cameron and the Lady Cameron Lodge in North Tarrytown, and knew my Uncle John and his family very well.
We had a nice Sunday Tea together, and were talking about the USA and North Tarrytown. Mr. MacFarlane told me that Uncle John had given him our address in Glasgow and asked him to give us a visit if possible. He told us about the job opportunities, the life style in the States, etci He also told us about the many Scottish families that had settled in the Tarrytown and Irvington area.
This peaked my interest in going to the USA, especially since things were so bad in so-many ways in Britain. It looked like a gloomy future for some years to come, plus the housing situation was very bleak also.
Plans were being made in City Hall about a citywide housing scheme. First of all, the people in the poorer sections had their choice of places to live. Homes had to be found for them as their present houses were being demolished. So, it looked like a long, long wait to get either a job or a home of our own.
I spoke to Mother about it and she was a little interested. Her family was not too keen to see her leave, even though they knew that the situation was bad.
I wrote to my Uncle John and we started quite a correspondence about the possibility of my coming to North Tarrytown. He was a very enthusiastic, as well as a sensible person. He seemed to be able to size up the various aspects of my coming over, with the result I spoke to Mother and my parents about leaving for the States. I knew many families who had gone off to the States already.
My Parents were also aware of the conditions in Glasgow and finally said, "If the MacFarlanes's can make a trip back to Glasgow, they weresure I could do the same." After my parents arrived in North Tarrytown, they became good friends with the MacFarlanes. I don't remember Mr. MacFarlane, but I do remember my mother frequently drove Mrs. MacFarlane to many Scottish functions. Also,- I remember Ian was my Sunday School teacher for a year or so while I was a youth. -Ed.]
Mother and I had finally decided to come to the USA and our. families were agreeable. Shortly thereafter, we booked passage from Glasgow to New York. There were three ships of 12,000 tons each making one trip every other week from Glasgow to New York. The ships left Glasgow at York Hill Docks, and, Bob, you'll remember docking there while you were sailing with the United States Lines in the late 1940's. [ I do indeed remember docking at this very same dock a number of times over a two year period, 1947-1949. As a matter of fact, my picture and an accompanying article appeared in a Glasgow newspaper attesting to this fact. -Ed.l
Late in April, 1923, Mother and I went to Dunoon and Rothesey for a week or so. Long time friends of my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Todd, owned a little house in Rothesey and were down there for a month. They invited Mother and me to spend a week with them while we were waiting. We had a nice visit, and when we arrived at my parent's home at North Park Street, my father handed me a telegram.
The telegram was from Anchor Line and read, "If you are willing to take risk being refused entry United States, we are prepared to book you, R.M.S. CAMERONIA 11 May Week." The telegram was dated 7 May 1923. [ This telegram is now framed and hanging on the wall of my den in my home. -Ed.l
