The week beginning 2nd of June was Volunteers Week and we decided to ask one of our long-term volunteers a few questions about his time with us and his work with the Scottish Rifles (Cameronians) regimental collection. Volunteering has a very special place in our regiment’s history as it had a long tradition of brave men who joined the Territorial Army and Volunteer Reserve.
Brandon is a military history enthusiast who is currently studying Social Sciences at New College Lanarkshire. He has done some amazing work for our blog, researching the men behind the medals and it is always a very bright and pleasant day when he comes to our museum.
Our volunteer, Brandon, holding the finished cabinet medal index which he helped create. The display next to him was also created with his help.
Interview:
How long have you been volunteering with us, Brandon?
A year and 3-4 months.
Is this the first time you have volunteered?
Yes.
Why did you decide to volunteer at our museum?
I was on a course, a RISE course, where you get help finding your future plans and, because I was always interested in history, I wanted to look into working with libraries or museums. In the end, I thought museums were the better fit for me.
Had you visited this museum when you were young?
Yes, but when I was very little.
Why did you decide museums were better than libraries?
They have a closer link with military history.
What did you expect volunteering would be like? Was it different than what you thought?
I didn’t really have expectations when I started. It was better than I thought, certainly. The work environment is very good and everyone is very nice. It’s a combination of the collection material and the people who support me that made it a successful experience.
Did you know of the Cameronians (Scottish Riffles) regiment before you began your time with us?
No, but I was always fascinated by military history and knew of other Scottish regiments.
What is your favourite fact about our regiment?
I really like how it is more linked with the working class of Scotland and that the soldiers were often everyday Scottish people who volunteered to take part.
What is your favourite object from the regimental collection?
I really like the military medals. They tell the stories of people who often weren’t officers, but their brave actions granted them the recognition they deserved.
I know that you have always liked military history. Has your perspective on this side of history changed after helping us at the museum for over a year?
I am a lot more appreciative of what the soldiers did. It is a lot more than I ever knew from their beginning. It makes me proud to be Scottish when I learn of all they did and the part they played.
What is your favourite era of our regimental collection?
World war 2 is the most interesting part of the collection. It’s the freshest in my mind. Everything that happened in the western front. You think of all the sacrifices and the people who died and how we have records that commemorate this. And you get to see the changes of the medals from WW1 to WW2. For example, for WW1 medals, the soldiers names were on them but for WW2, this wasn’t the case. I am just fascinated by this change and the possible reasons behind it.
You really find an interesting strand of social history in our collection?
Yes, it is a lot about class. I am fascinated how the same actions would grant different medals to officers and to private soldiers or volunteer soldiers. Class is a big part of medals, in my opinion. Social class is something that I was always interested in because it can divide and separate very easily.
What do you do as part of your volunteering?
Helping with inventory and writing blog posts.
Which is your favourite?
I can’t choose. They go hand in hand for me.
What is the most memorable part of research you did for the collection?
The story of Thomas Scott. His story is really good, and we have letters of him being given the military medal, but he wasn’t alive to receive it. While he was dying, he gave his servant his pocket watch and then the servant possibly returned it because we have it in the museum collection along with other items that relate to Thomas Scott. I just really like that we can see a story through the various objects.
Why do you continue to volunteer?
Because it never gets boring. I am always learning something new about a person or the museum in general. You might do the same thing at times but it never gets boring.
How would you pitch the interest of a regimental/military collection to someone who doesn’t know a lot about this kind of history? What makes it very interesting to you?
The uniqueness of the regimental collection is that we get to examined the people within the regiment in depth. It is almost like a movie and the stuff you read feel unreal, but we know they happened.
What are your future plans?
To work in a museum! Study until I have enough qualifications for a museum to accept me.
Brandon has contributed the following articles for our blog:
In 1953, National Service slid into a continued service of three and a half years with the Territorial Army. As a Cameronian, it was necessary to answer a call and attend “D Company” at a drill hall in Wishaw. Here, about twenty to thirty men assembled around a good-natured Sergeant who summarised our near future. As he handed out shoulder badges, he explained we were now one small unit of the 264 Scottish Beach Brigade. Somewhat stunned, we formed ranks for a talk by the Officer in Charge, who attempted to explain what it all meant.
Shoulder Badge of ‘264’
At the time, however, it was a bit of a puzzle but it was an attractive badge that had been distributed. The next meeting was to attend the barracks in Hamilton at 2pm, one Saturday. After a morning at work in uniform, the East Kilbride Chieftain bus dropped me off at Hamilton’s ‘top cross’, and a brisk march led to the barracks. This was the Cameronians ‘Head Office’ and seemed to be teeming with soldiers all asking the same question, “What are we doing here ?” Army trucks arrived and the troops clambered on board for a journey through Hamilton to the Chatelherhault High Parks. Recalling the occasion is not easy … it may have been shooting practice. Daylight was going and the trucks ferried everyone back to the barracks in Hamilton.
Life continued in this way with monthly meetings at the Drill Hall in Wishaw and the occasional muster in Hamilton. There was an obligatory summer camp held in the County of Moray; nearby, a convenient bus service travelled to Elgin. In a public house, the barman was shocked when he came to serve us … he remembered us from the Egypt days and was so overcome with emotion that the first round was on the house.
Back in Wishaw, we were briefed on the annual camp for 1954. It would take place in Belgium when the 264 Scottish Beach Brigade would be an important part of Exercise Winch. The journey started with a slow train journey south to a ship waiting in Harwich dock. One singular amusement occurred. During a brief pause at Newcastle station, a few soldiers left the train to search for a cuppa tea. All went well, until that the train departed … and they remained on the platform !
On arriving in Zeebrugge, Belgium, umpteen squads formed up and marched to camps for an allocation of tents … that is, six men to a tent & wait for more instructions. Of course, we waited.
There was activity the following days following a selection of men for duty on the beach, which was like a film set by now. A ship at anchor swarmed with men receiving bulky bundles that descended into amphibious craft, known as DUKWs.
A press cutting explains
Elsewhere, whenever there was space, DUKWs pitched up onto the beach and teams set about unloading the huge bundles for transport to lorries nearby. [Author’s note: Here my memory is hazy but I can recall using short lengths of narrow gauge rails which fitted together so that wheeled trolleys could whisk the heavy packages along the sandy beach. Can any reader verify this ? ]
Commanders meet the Naval Admiral who had overall charge
All went well for a few days. There was variety in the tasks being handed out. Some folks were sea-sick, some DUKWs lost their loads, which floated away until rescued by the Military Police operating from speed boats. Free afternoons that were allocated to Bren gun practice developed into speed challenges. Bets were exchanged but in each race, the duty sergeant failed to beat “Big Ned” who knew the Bren gun backwards.
Larger amphibious craft replaced the DUKWs for large loads
Local tram cars served the holiday resort of Blankenberg and it also was easy to visit the attractive city of Bruges. Our uniforms interested holiday makers … some girls claimed they wanted to practice their English. An ability to speak French also helped to clinch company for the evening.
It was a Thursday. Everything was functioning well. The Beach Brigade was working like a well-oiled machine until an announcement came over the loud speakers set up along the beach. “Return to barracks !”
Loading petered out just as a load was being rescued
In two and threes we walked back to camp while discussing the abrupt message. It was later in the day that the explanation was offered … “There will be no need for a beach brigade in future wars.” [Author’s note : Tell that to the men involved in the Falklands War!]
Back home in ‘Blighty’, good news followed. TA service was to be cut to two years. I had done my time. End of story !
At Question Time in the House of Commons on 2nd November 1954, a summary of our activities summarised the exercise as follows:
Mr. Swingler:
asked the Secretary of State for War to make a statement on the nature of Exercise “Winch”; how many men took part in it; the total cost; why it was held in Belgium; and whether similar exercises will be held in the United Kingdom.
Mr. Head:
This exercise trained 264 Scottish Beach Brigade, Territorial Army, in landing stores across beaches. About 5,000 men, of whom just over 4,000 came from this country, took part. By holding the exercise in Belgium, it was possible for them to handle the normal movement of stores to the British Army of the Rhine, which were diverted through the beaches, so that the exercise cost much less than if an artificial exercise on this scale had been held in this country. The brigade also got valuable experience in working with the Belgian authorities. No similar exercise is contemplated in the near future.
(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.
Next year, 2024, marks the 80th Anniversary of the Battle of Normandy. It is anticipated that there will be substantial interest in, and media coverage of, the events of the Landings on D-Day, 6 June 1944, and the Battle for the liberation of Europe which followed, in which the 9th Battalion of the Cameronians played such a significant part. It is likely that the site of the British Normandy Memorial will be a focus for commemoration of those events and for remembrance of the sacrifice of all those who gave their lives in the cause of freedom.
The British Normandy Memorial www.britishnormandymemorial.org stands at the edge of the village of Ver-sur-Mer, just east of Arromanches, on a slight rise, looking out over Gold Beach, the area designated in Operation Overlord for the landing of British troops. The Memorial consists of a central wall, on which is engraved the names of all Allied personnel who lost their lives on D-Day itself, flanked by a series of limestone columns, on which are engraved the names of all the others who lost their lives in the subsequent Battle of Normandy, which is deemed to have ended by 31 August 1944. There are 22,442 names engraved on the Memorial, arranged in chronological order of the date of death.
The Battle of Normandy had particular importance for the 9th Battalion, which did not participate in the landings on D-Day itself, but was to play a leading part in all that followed, from the attempted breakout from the beachhead beginning on 26 June 1944, right through to the end of the War in May 1945. The Battalion was part of the 46th (Highland) Infantry Brigade of the 15th Scottish Division of the British Army. That Division was given the honour of spearheading the planned breakout in Normandy, east of Bayeux and west of Caen, the area which became known as “the Scottish Corridor”.
The main body of the Battalion had landed on the Mulberry harbour at Arromanches on 17 June, with the Vehicle party being held up by the great Channel storm and eventually reaching Arromanches on 23 June.
What followed was bitter and sometimes attritional warfare: in the first five days of the Division’s involvement, it was to suffer 2,720 casualties, one-quarter of its total losses in the whole period from June 1944 to May 1945. In the preparation for the construction of the Normandy Memorial, meticulous research by its researchers in combination with the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) identified 146 members of the Regiment who died in the Battle of Normandy. Those Cameronians were buried in Cemeteries situated throughout Normandy administered by the CWGC, but now all of their names are perpetually commemorated on the engraved Columns of the Memorial.
Undoubtedly, the 80th Anniversary and any associated commemoration will stimulate interest in visiting the area, the Memorial itself, and the War Cemeteries in Normandy. All of these are profoundly moving places. Many relatives of those who died will have visited these sites, but it is recognised that very many more will never have had the opportunity to do so. In their memory and with the intention of assisting Cameronians, and any relatives of the Fallen of the Regiment who may wish to visit the area on the occasion of the 80th Anniversary or thereafter, a list has been compiled of all those 146 members, together with their date of death, age, place of burial, and the number of the Column at the Memorial where their names are engraved.
The Cemetery with the largest number of Cameronian dead, at 54, is at St Manvieu, on the D9 west of Caen, the road which separates the villages of St Manvieu and Cheux, both of which were extensively damaged in the fighting, and the second largest, at 47, is at Bayeux, which is in the town of Bayeux itself, at the western edge of its mediaeval centre. The remainder are spread amongst 9 other CWGC Cemeteries in the area: Brouay, Tilly-sur-Seulles, Hermanville, Ryes, Banneville-la-Campagne, Secqueville-en-Bessin, Beny-sur-Mer, St Charles de Percy, Hottot-les-Bagues, and Caumont (Communal).
The Battalion was engaged in a series of important battles during the Normandy campaign, and examination of the dates of death of the members of the Battalion shown in the records shows a clear correspondence with the individual battles of that campaign, the first stage being Operation Epsom.
Operation Epsom commenced at 07.30 on 26 June 1944, when the Battalion went into action for the first time. The task was to capture the village of Le Haut du Bosq (now known as Le Bosq), just south of Cheux. The Battalion’s losses on that first day were very heavy: 34 members of the Battalion lost their lives on that day alone, 23 per cent of all fatalities suffered by the Battalion in the whole of the campaign to 31 August, but mere statistics cannot convey the awful reality of the battlefield action.
Brigadier Barclay’s official History of the Regiment, Vol III, refers at p166 to that part of the action on 26 June which involved the Battalion’s Pioneer Platoon. He states, “The Battalion Transport, moving forward escorted by the Pioneer Platoon, ran into an enemy minefield, and suffered casualties. Heavy enemy shell fire also caused losses.” The official War Diary of the Pioneer Platoon itself, written by Brigadier Richard Villiers, Commander of the 46th Brigade, who as Lieutenant Colonel Villiers, had been the Commander of the 9th Battalion at the time, contains this passage, which more graphically conveys what actually happened: “When the [Battalion] went into action on 26 June the Pioneers were detailed to sweep the road forward for the transport. They were unable to carry out this task as the [Platoon] had ceased to exist as a [Platoon] after five minutes in action. Sjt McSkimming and seven men had been killed and eight men had been wounded by the devastating mortar fire.” Alexander McSkimming is buried at St Manvieu War Cemetery and his name is engraved on Column 98 of the Normandy Memorial, as are the names of Riflemen John Ledgard, Archibald MacInnes, William McInnes, Thomas Melvin, Arthur Moore, William Moore and Lieutenant Peter McGregor.
In the 5 days between 26 June and 1 July, the conclusion of Operation Epsom, the Battalion had suffered 74 fatalities, 50 per cent of all the fatalities it suffered in the whole of the Battle of Normandy. The prolonged fighting at Grainville-sur-Odon accounted for a significant number of these. Much of that centred on the church there. The accompanying photograph, taken exactly 79 years later, clearly shows the extant bullet and shell holes in the church’s gable wall. The street on which the church stands is now named the Rue de la 15ème Division Écossaise, and a modern community hall on the street is named the Salle de la XVème (Hall of the 15th). The next village to Grainville is Tourville-sur-Odon, and the road from there leading south to the Monument to the 15th Scottish Division, fittingly topped by the Lion Rampant, is named the Rue des Écossais.
A further 24 fatalities were suffered in the battle for control of Éterville between 10 and 12 July, 17 on one day alone, 30 July, in the fighting to capture the village of Sept Vents during Operation Bluecoat, and 20 on 6th August in the breakout at Caumont, on the advance to Gourney, the day forever after referred to as the Regiment’s “Black Sunday”.
Of course, the principal purpose of a War Memorial is to remember and honour the Fallen, and the British Normandy Memorial achieves that in a beautiful and dignified way. But, fittingly and significantly, it is specifically recognised at the site of the Memorial that no participant who survived the stark realities and horrors of war was left unscathed by the experience. Very many of those who survived were affected physically and psychologically in later life by both their wounds and their memories and in a moving tribute to all who served, an engraved panel at the memorial contains the words, “ Many who lived through D-Day and the Battle of Normandy were forever marked by their experiences. Some later died from wounds received during the campaign. Others suffered at length from psychological trauma.”
