When one thinks of a military collection, their first thought is an assortment of weapons, medals, uniforms and photographs. Although these objects are an important aspect of an army museum, they are far from the only items and stories we preserve and celebrate within our walls and, by no means, the full picture of the Cameronians (Scottish Riffles) military life. Alongside the battles and the acts of heroism we proudly showcase, we are also hosts of hidden human-interest stories that we wish to share with our visitors and blog readers. Sometimes, the simplest items, like a handkerchief, hold the most fascinating tales.
Light-green silk handkerchief, square, with fringing on all edges. Embroidered crest of The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) in one corner.
When I was looking to update one of our small display cases for February 2025, senior staff members suggested I read in our system about a special handkerchief that was part of our regimental collection and create a display around it and Valentine’s Day. At first glance, this handkerchief appears unimportant and of little interest, but after reading the short description around its donation, I fell in love with it. Within its stiches and threads, a bittersweet teenage love story is woven.
I immediately asked if it would be acceptable to contact the donor, Isabella, and listen to her speak about it, wanting to capture in this post and for my display text a sense of authenticity that I feared was missing from the short description we had recorded before. I was so glad the donor agreed, and we arranged a phone-call. Although a bit hesitant at first, Isabella opened to me very quickly as she tried to sort her emotions and thoughts regarding this handkerchief and why she wished for it to be donated to us. The phrase that she often repeated and stayed with me was that she didn’t want it “to end up destroyed,” after she died.
Isabella received this handkerchief in the 1950s, when she was sixteen years old alongside her last – as far as she remembers – Valentine’s card from a young Cameronian soldier, named Frank. They met at their church’s youth group and soon became good friends allowing for a sweet friendship and innocent love to start between them. A couple of years older than her, Frank left to go to Germany alongside the regiment, but he and Isabella kept in touch and saw each other whenever he visited his family.
When I spoke with Isabella and she narrated to me her story, it was abundantly clear how much she treasured that precious time of her youth. She told me of her very happy memories with Frank and how much she respected and admired his family, who she described as very kind and loving to her.
Her words sounded like the beginning of a sweet love story, and one would expect that what followed this handkerchief was a marriage and happy family life. Isabella didn’t delve into too many details, but she admitted to me that this wasn’t the case for her and Frank. When I asked her why things didn’t progress between them, she told me that she felt she wasn’t “good enough for him” and distanced herself from him and his family. She eventually married a different man, had children and built her own family. But, she was never able to part from the handkerchief, keeping it safe in a pouch alongside other treasured mementos for decades.
She told me that she kept it folded in the pouch as a secret, always afraid that if her first husband found out about it, he would destroy it. A precious and well-guarded secret, she finally took it out of the pouch in her eighties, many years after her first husband’s death, and talked with a hitch in her voice of how afraid she was that it would tear while she handwashed it. She commissioned a frame for it and began to ponder what she wanted to do with it.
Her first thought was to find Frank and speak with him, to attempt to reconnect all these years later so they can reminisce about the past. She enlisted the help of one of her grandchildren and found out that Frank had his own family and was widowed, but she never found the courage to contact him and rekindle their old friendship because she felt “it wasn’t fair.” Unfortunately, she never got the chance to see him again as he died before she changed her mind. Afterwards, she tried to give the handkerchief to his children, but they refused it and she approached Low Parks Museum and offered it as a donation, alongside the frame she had kept it in for the last few years.
It was apparent from the very first time we met her how much she valued and loved this object. She wanted to find a new home for it, where it would continue to be cherished, like she did for over seventy years. She told me how happy she was that we would put the object on display for a few weeks during February and that she would have the chance to travel to Hamilton and see it once again.
(It wasn’t polite … but we soon learned, everyone called Egypt ‘Egg-wiped’.)
Very slowly, we were able to piece together what was happening. The Suez Canal Zone needed 6,000 troops urgently and from Blackbushe Airport, Grahame and I flew to Malta for a meal, and then on to Fayid in Egypt. Egypt was in turmoil and once we had landed, we were enveloped in chaos ! We soon learned the meaning of “Abrogation”; the Egyptians had withdrawn all forms of support for the British Army. King George VI died in London and triggered activities throughout the Canal Zone. Egypt’s King Farouk was unpopular and had severed ties with Britain. Beds were found for five of us in the camp of the Long Range Desert Group; these soldiers ragged us mercilessly and, for three or four days, we just sat on our beds waiting for something to happen.
At last, we transferred to GHQ in Fayid and were allocated a four-man tent.
The camp of tents and ablutions in Fayid, Egypt
By good fortune, the four of us renewed friendships from the Chichester days and swopped ‘group numbers’. Grahame and I were 51-17; we would go home to ‘Blighty’ in 21months time. Louis prepared a monthly demob chart; Tony improvised a method for making ‘chi’ by tapping power from the tent’s light bulb. We established a routine for filling the clay ‘chaguls’ with water, and negotiated a method for obtaining supplies of tea and sugar.
Lewis, Tony & Grahame enjoy a ‘cuppa’
Grahame and I were assigned to shift work in Staff Message Control where a Warrant Officer outlined the routines. Twelve hours on and twelve hours off became our daily habit; we received messages from around the world and distributed them to sections of GHQ. Some were ‘Restricted’ or ‘Secret’ or ‘Top Secret’, but often carried urgency, such as “Priority”, “Operational immediate”, or the dreaded “Flash”! Top Secret and Flash had to be in and out in a matter of seconds.
There was a bonus. We were bound to secrecy but learned what was going on in Egypt and how the army was coping with the unrest and the daily upheavals.
After a night shift, there was also an experience. A walk of two miles took us through a small village by the Sweet Water Canal which had a dreadful smell. Here we were plagued to purchase leather wallets and dubious watches.
The native village near Fayid which bridged the Sweet Water canal
It was, however, the route to a Lido by the Great Bitter Lake, where the army had sunk six barges to create an improvised swimming pool. We took the chance to relax by snoozing, roasting and swimming in the warm water of the Great Bitter Lake.
One way of cooling down – a Stella beer at the Lido
During the summer, the GHQ companies trained hard for the athletic games to be held in the Olympia stadium. My pal Grahame worked hard for the 5,000 metres, whereas my choice was the hop, skip and jump. This I had mastered while at high school, back in Motherwell. When I emerged first, the prize was a small silver cup and a round of drinks in the Naafi.
The author’s winning jump at the Olympia Stadium, Egypt
Trouble escalated in Egypt when General Mohamad Naquib coaxed his Free Army officers to revolt and to overthrow the government. Messages continued non-stop and an “Active Service” category became the rule for troops in the Canal Zone. Britain persuaded the unpopular King Farouk to seek exile in Rome and all the moves before his midnight deadline were noted, recorded and transmitted to London. More messages !
Around 3am, when message traffic paused – time for a snapshot
The pressure abated with a respite of two weeks leave at a very pleasant holiday camp for military personnel in Port Said. On return to work and the shift work regime at Staff Message Control, one event cheered me up. My Rifleman status moved to NCO when I received two stripes … even although the shift system demanded concentration and dedication.
Two stripes and a pause for a photograph
Trouble with the Mau Mau in Kenya created a maelstrom of message traffic. In January 1952, Egypt’s police waged an unnecessary battle with the British army in Ismailia. An RAF aircraftsman was kidnapped in Ismailia, another crisis erupted. Rapid messages passed between London’s War Office and the Middle East Land Forces negotiating his release.
Lewis’s ‘demob chart’ was filling up. It was September; our knees were brown and we packed all the summer clothing and personal effects into our kitbags and waited, and waited. When the call came, we climbed aboard a truck and sang on our way to the airport. Bad news followed. The Anson plane was being repaired but after two years, we were familiar with delays and waiting. So … we waited.
51-17 group on the way to Blighty but stalled at the airport
Eventually the plane managed to reach Malta but needed more repairs. As passengers we bussed to a former monastery in a small town, Mtarfa and told to wait. Of course, we waited … and waited … but once we established there would be no movement each day, we took the local bus service into Valletta.
It was a scramble after six days when news filtered through – “Get ready for departure; a bus is leaving for the airport.” Some hours later we had a meal in Malta then it was homeward bound for Blackbushe airport in Surrey. A coach took us to London and the conversation was kind of sentimental as we viewed ‘the green fields’ on either side of the road. The bus load split up and we all went our different ways.
Somehow, Grahame and I reached Winston Barracks in Lanark. It was a Saturday and the kindly duty Sgt Major welcomed us. “Stuff yer kit in there and report back on Monday morning at nine o’clock,” he said … and we quick marched back to Lanark for the bus.
We were home … but realised that we still faced three and a half service in the Territorial Army.
We are delighted to share with you some memories of National Service, provided by Dr R M Callender. Ron’s military years persuaded him to find a challenging job on return to Civvy Street and he retired as a contented scientist. Ron shares his memories in a three part series, the first of which, titled ‘Dreghorn’, is reproduced below.
Part 1: Dreghorn
The Cameronian ‘sprog’
With a job secured, I left Motherwell’s Dalziel High School looking forward to working near London, which was then hosting the Festival of Britain on the banks of the River Thames.
The posh entrance to Dalziel High School which the author was not allowed to use!
As a schoolboy, my favourite pastime was photography and I learned the hard way !
Ten enjoyable months flitted away and then the envelope arrived. The message was simple – “Please attend the Army Medical Centre in Kingston-on-Thames.” A day of poking, prodding, measuring and questioning followed. “You’re from Lanarkshire ?” the doctor asked, while sticking a thermometer in my mouth. “Put him down for the Cameronians !” Decision made.
My two pals from school who managed to dodge National Service
Days dragged past. Then the second letter arrived … “Report to Dreghorn Barracks on 6th September.” I think I received a postal order that represented the King’s shilling. If I did, I wish I had kept it as a souvenir.
I took a train to Edinburgh, a tram-car to Colington and a saunter in ‘civvies’ to Dreghorn followed. Soon, I became 22584435 for the next four years.
The first day was a nightmare of an issue of denims, a china mug, a ‘KFS set’, complex webbing and heavy boots. A severe haircut followed, in spite of having attended a hairdresser the previous day. When a small group had accumulated we tramped to our ‘billet’, found ‘bed-space’ and hurried into removing all traces of civilian life to the cry of “Outside in five minutes!” In no time at all, we were soldiers in denims, albeit recruits belonging to ‘Auchinleck One’ squad.
As a relief from drill, it was rewarding to have talks and learn of Richard Cameron’s men and how they evolved into Cameronians
It was no surprise to be ridiculed when we stumbled into the mess-hall. Daily we marched to commands on the parade ground, we cleaned our webbing with ‘Blanco’, we stripped down rifles to clean them, and stood to attention when the Last Post was played. Time and again we polished our boots, we walked through the gas chamber, we fired on the range, we had bayonet practice and tackled long marches fully kitted out. Better uniforms evolved one day … and along with my regimental trews, I received the attractive Lowland bonnet and an extra Cameronian badge. Six weeks ended with the passing-out parade and a weekend pass.
Monday morning saw the beginning of ten weeks of special training. As Cameronians, we all knew we were going to Malaya but some mates were destined for Korea, and some for Germany. Just as the jungle training came to an end, I was posted to Chichester Barracks in Sussex for training on how to run a regimental office. After Dreghorn, this was a bit of fun and provided an opportunity to bond and mix with soldiers from other regiments … even although Malaya was seldom out of mind.
By then, I had a ‘mucker’ in Grahame – who became my close friend for 62 years. But a surprise was waiting for Grahame and me on our return to Dreghorn … we were both going to Egypt without delay!
My close friend of 62 years, Grahame (LHS) served as my best man at our wedding in 1958 but sadly died in 2012. I still miss his friendship.
John Clark Hannah M.M was a respected soldier of the Cameronians and was considered somewhat of a celebrity in his Battalion being looked up to by other fellow soldiers such as Ian Bilbo. This celebrity status came to Hannah as a result of being awarded the Military Medal for his gallantry when ambushing enemy ‘bandits’ in Kampong Tengah New Village, Malaya.
One additional reason Hannah received his M.M, was for successfully preventing an ambush by the enemy as Hannah was seen wasting no time fighting back against the Bandits.
These efforts were recognised as a result of Hannah’s great courage and evasive/ offensive manoeuvres in the Sekarek area of Selumper when his platoon was crossing a swamp.
Hannah also became acting Platoon commander taking over form Captain M.W. Galloway at the time, this showed Hannah was generally considered a trustworthy and reliable member of his platoon.
Later on in Hannah’s service he was eventually promoted to Warrant Officer II and appointed Company Quarter Master Sergeant and later Company Sergeant Major.
Hannah was also recognised as the man to kill the 100th bandit during the war in Malaya. This 100th kill came from an ambush of three Malayan Bandits with the rest of his Mortar Platoon, which consisted of Sergeant Hughes, Rifleman Farrel, Riflemen Baillie, Mathieson Walker, MacMillan and Chapman. In this said ambush Hannah killed two of the men as they retreated.
During Hannah’s time at company camp in Deighton Towns as a Company Sergeant Major, he managed to catch an impressive 42 trout when fishing with his platoon. This in many ways show Hannah’s character, as it portraits his competitiveness amongst his men as well as his ability to still enjoy himself during his time in war. This sort of story only adds another reason for Hannah’s celebrity status.
Thomas Scott was a fast rising soldier in the 1st Battalion The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles), who received the Military Cross for his gallantry in June 1916 near Highwood on the Somme.
In this battle Scott saved two people from a mine explosion, when both men were half buried in dirt and under fire.
The shock of the explosion from the mine itself did not deter Scott, instead he ran to the aid of an officer and civilian, he then dragged both to safety.
During this heroic act Scott was injured but later on returned to service. Scott then went on to become Adjutant for almost a full year, earning an extra 5 shillings a day at the age of 22, a very young age for such responsibility which was given to him by Lt. Col.. Chaplin showing the faith that he had in him as well as his great skill.
In battle on the 20th May at 4pm Scott was seriously wounded by a shell in a Small valley in Croisilles while he was in a group of six at the back of the party.
Soon after Scott was wounded, he was put onto a stretcher and was transported to Dressing where he sadly died later on.
Before his death, on the drive over to get medical treatment, he gave his gold pocket watch to his soldier servant saying “Mansfield, take this.” and apologised for not being able to join in on the fight clearly indicating his bravery and loyalty to his regiment.
After Scott’s passing his soldier servant wrote a letter to his family where he expressed how great of a master and friend Scott was, going on to say how dedicated Scott was to his Country.
Lt. Col. Chaplin also wrote a letter to the parents of Scott expressing his remorse. Chaplin detailed in the letter that the watch had been sent to them with the story of Scott giving the watch to Mansfield, Chaplin also details that Scott did not suffer too much as a result of his fatal injuries, Chaplin expresses the trust he had in Scott, indicating he was well liked in his regiment.
Transcript: Letter from Commander in Chief of 1st Cameronians Lt Col. J G Chaplin to Mr. Scott father of 2nd Lt Thomas Scott
June 2nd 1917
Dear Mr Scott
You will have heard from the War Office the sad news of your son’s death from wounds received in action. The regiment moved up to attack on May 20th under very heavy shelling and your son was wounded by a shell. He was dressed by a doctor but died the same day, on his way to the Casualty Station His wounds were not so severe to make him suffer much but his death was probably due to his heart not being strong.
Your son was a most brave and conscientious officer. He was adjutant of the Battalion for almost a year. I had the highest opinion of him and feel his loss greatly. He was popular with all his brother officers and all had a great admiration of him. On his way to hospital your boy took off his gold watch and gave it to his servant saying “Mansfield, take this.” I had the watch sent to you with your son’s things and you can judge whether it should be sent to Mansfield.
Please accept the sincere sympathy of all ranks of the Cameronians in your great loss.
If there is any other information I can give you I will be most happy to do so.
Yours Sincerely
J G Chaplin
Lt. Col. Commanding 1st Bn The Cameronians.
Scott’s achievements in Edinburgh Academy and St Mary’s School, Melrose, are instrumental factors in how Scott went on to become a great solider and leader as he excelled in gymnastics, cricket , football and running.
Scott also went on to win many trophies for his school such as the Bradbury Shield and Burma Cup as well as a silver medal for gymnastics. Scott excelled in all aspects of school as he was also singled out for outstanding essays on Napoleon.
Scott also went on to become an ephor which is an old Latin word for spartan, an ephor was a prefect for the School showing that even from a young age Scott was entrusted with responsibility.
After Scott’s departure from Edinburgh academy in 1913 his brother John followed in his footsteps, becoming an athlete himself, playing in the School XV.
UPDATE: Images of Mansfield’s medals as well as a letter from Chaplin to Mansfield and a newspaper roll of honour for Thomas Scott have been kindly sent over to us by Steven Brown.
Mansfield’s medals consists of a 1914 star, war medal, victory medal, general service medal, defence medal and long service and good conduct medal. Chaplin’s letter to Mansfield can now be seen above. In this letter, Chaplin asks Mansfield to write some words to the family of Scott, The letter that Mansfield wrote subsequently as a result of Chaplin’s letter is located in this blog where Mansfield mentions who Scott was, as a person and soldier. The other image we received was a newspaper cut-out that includes Thomas Scott in its roll of honour.