This new post about Cameronians who served with Special Forces is of great interest. The piece about No 9 Commando is of special interest and Ferrey’s service with them and all of the detail in his personal diaries makes fascinating reading.
Delving on line for a bit more about 9 Commando I found this on the website of the Imperial War Museum: The unit did not wear a cap badge as such but while serving in 2nd Special Service Battalion they wore a black hackle in a khaki Balmoral hat. When the Special Service Battalions were re-organized in March 1941, the unit reverted to its 9 Commando title, retaining the Balmoral and black hackle. The hackle was transferred to the green beret when the latter was adopted in 1942. And The first version of the shoulder title is 9 COMMANDO in white on black, changed in late 1942 to No 9 COMMANDO, still in white on black. A green on black No 9 COMMANDO was subsequently worn for a short time before adopting the standard red on black in early 1943.
There is no doubt in my mind that a Cameronian, perhaps more than one, either with No 9 or on the staff, had a hand in this. The Balmoral bonnet with black hackle was the officers’ day-to-day dress with battle dress (or later with combat kit) for many years and until the 1st Battalion was disbanded.
This is the first of four posts that will explore stories of Cameronians who served beyond the Regiment in the Second World War, in what we might term today as ‘Special Forces’ roles. The purpose of these posts is not to elevate the contribution these men made above others in the Regiment, but to demonstrate the variety of remarkable ways Cameronians served in the War. As with all of our blog posts, the men featured tend to be those whose stories are tied to certain objects, photographs, or archival material held in the Museum collection. If you have information on Cameronians who served in these types of roles, please do tell us in the comment section below.
This post will look at Cameronians who served in the Commandos and/or the Special Air Service (SAS), with subsequent posts exploring Cameronians who went on to serve in the Parachute Regiment, the Chindits, and the various specialist roles played by the 6th and 7th Battalions as part of the 52nd Mountain Division.
Commando shoulder title and Combined Operations insignia of Captain Jack McNeil
Hundreds of soldiers of The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) saw service beyond the Regiment in a variety of roles during the Second World War. After the fall of France and the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force from Dunkirk, a number of junior officers opted to transfer to the Royal Air Force. With the BEF back on British shores, and the Army placed on a defensive footing, service with the RAF appeared for some to offer the best prospects of seeing action with the enemy, especially as the Battle of Britain was being fought in the skies overhead in the summer of 1940.
One of these young officers was John Lang Steele, from Lanark. A pre-war Trooper with the Lanarkshire Yeomanry he was selected for officer training and, on being commissioned, was posted to The Cameronians Infantry Training Centre at Hamilton in early 1940. Subsequently posted to the 12th Battalion at Lossiemouth, John transferred to the Royal Air Force. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) for gallantry as a bomber pilot in the Middle East in 1943. John was killed on operations in December 1944, with the rank of Squadron Leader. https://www.cwgc.org/find-war-dead/casualty/2237860/steele,-john-lang/
Beyond the RAF, there were soon to be other ways in which those eager to take the fight to the enemy could find satisfaction.[i] A new strike-force called the Commandos was being raised with the purpose of carrying out daring hit-and-run raids along the coastline of occupied Europe. From the Commandos would grow other elite fighting units now famous around the world, such as the Special Air Service (SAS), and the Parachute Regiment. Cameronian soldiers would see active service in all of these ‘special forces’ units in the Second World War. These are just a few of their stories.
Captain Jack McNeil
Jack McNeil was a Territorial Army officer who had been commissioned in May 1939, just months before the outbreak of the Second World War. It was while serving with 7th Cameronians that Jack volunteered for service in the ‘Independent Companies’ being raised for service in Norway. With the BEF occupied in France and Belgium, the Independent Companies (formed from Territorial Army divisions based in the UK) were to be sent to Norway to resist the German invasion. Jack would see active service in Norway and was wounded in action. With the aid of the Finnish Red Cross he was able to make his way back to Britain, arriving home just as the BEF were being evacuated from Dunkirk. He joined the 2nd Special Service Battalion in November 1940, and ultimately No. 9 Commando.
Captain Jack McNeil, oil painting by Adolf Kuechel
Jack would see extensive combat service with No. 9 Commando in Italy. In late December 1943, he commanded ‘Y’ Force, one of three sub-groups of No. 9 Commando during the action to assist X Corps’ crossing of the River Garigliano:
Once ashore, ‘X’ Force began to establish the bridgehead, and had soon cleared the mouth of the river, killing all the Germans found there except one; ‘Y’ Force moved off to Monte Arengto, and ‘Z’ Force, after sending out a patrol, set out for the amphitheatre. ‘Y’ Force, one hundred and twenty strong, under Captain J. McNeil, had now eight hundred yards further to go than had been planned. Speed was therefore essential. They pressed on over broken mine-strewn ground, and at 03.20 hours began their assault. The enemy were soon dealt with. A tank discovered in a cave was destroyed, its crew killed, and the position was captured for the loss of two officers and two men wounded. In his withdrawal McNeil followed a new route to avoid the mine-fields, and this took him and his men close to Force ‘Z’ which, under Captain R. Cameron, was moving to the assault of the amphitheatre.
‘The Pibroch of the Donald Dubh,’ to the sound of which Cameron was wont to charge, came to the ears of ‘Y’ Force, and to avoid the danger that the two forces might in the darkness mistake each other for Germans, McNeil ordered his piper to play ‘The Green Hills of Tyrol.’ [ii]
Jack McNeil was later appointed as an instructor and advisor to the Free French forces that were to be employed in the attack on the island of St Elba.
Jack ultimately served as Commandant of Carronbridge Prisoner of War camp, near Thornhill in Dumfries and Galloway. Here he would encounter Adolf Kuechel, a German prisoner of war. Jack provided Kuechel with the materials to allow him to pursue his passion for painting. In return, Kuechel painted the fine portrait of Captain McNeil – reproduced above.
Captain Martin Ferrey
Martin Ferrey enlisted in the ranks of the Scots Guards in June 1940. During his recruits’ training he was identified as a Potential Officer and sent to RMC Sandhurst. Commissioned in February 1941, Martin was posted to The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) Infantry Training Centre at Hamilton.
In an unpublished account of his military service (held in the museum collection) Martin recalls that he requested The Cameronians mainly on the fact the Regimental Depot (Hamilton Barracks) was close to Burnside, where he and his wife had lived since they were married in 1938. While at the Depot in Hamilton Martin was appointed Passive Air Defence (PAD) Officer, giving him the opportunity to witness first-hand the Clydebank Blitz of 13th and 14th March 1941. It was while serving as PAD that Martin heard the call for volunteers for the Commandos:
“A special force of mobile and highly trained troops is being created…they will operate by means of raids behind enemy lines or where shock troops are required…they will be demolition and sabotage experts…must be superlatively fit…rugged, athletic…capable of feats of exceptional endurance…in view of the hazardous nature of their duties and the fact that the casualty rate is expected to be high, these troops, to be called Commandos will be recruited on a voluntary basis…”[iii]
Martin half-jokingly admits that he volunteered for the Commandos to escape the hardship of life at Hamilton Barracks – namely having to learn and take part in Highland Dancing on Mess nights. Commando life would be “baby stuff compared with Scottish dancing.”
Martin completed the grueling Commando training courses at Glenfeshie and Lochailort in Scotland, and on-the-job training with No. 9 Commando at Kirkudbright and on the Isle of Arran. It was at Lochailort that he was issued with the infamous Fairbairn Sykes Fighting Knife, a weapon synonymous with the Commandos and which, to this day, still forms part of Special Forces unit insignia the world over.
Martin’s Fairbairn Sykes Fighting Knife. Numbered 242 of the first batch of 500 issued to the Commandos.
Martin fought with No. 9 Commando on multiple operations in Italy, culminating in the Commando attack on Mount Ornito in February 1944, as part of the Anzio landings. This was to be Martin’s ‘last show’ with No. 9 Commando:
“We had reached the summit of Ornito, and simultaneously an intense barrage of German 88 millimetre shells from the direction of Mount Faito laid down a steel curtain of high explosive: the enemy had our range precisely and salvo after salvo was a bull’s eye; 9 Commando was the eye of that bull, and being on solid rock increased the killing circle of each shell… I seem to remember an exceptionally ear-splitting whistle of a descending shell and a rock-pulversing explosion which picked me up bodily and threw me through the air across the summit of the mountain. The pain was severe and I think I may have lost consciousness for short periods.”
Martin was given a shot of morphine by the Medical Officer and was in the process of being stretchered off the mountain by his batman, Jack Anderson[iv] and a Corporal McAuley, when the group were again hit by shellfire:
“I do not know what happened next but I must have been hit again, this time in the left arm and jaw below my left ear and I seemed to be in a patch of scrub and low bushes. Somebody beside me was screaming as he burned with phosphorous bombs which must have ignited in his pockets or equipment, and I first I thought he was American from the shape of his steel helmet, but I think I must have been mistaken and that he was almost certainly a German and I have always regretted I was too confused to put him out of his agony with a round from my pistol, for nobody could have possible survived that incineration.”
Despite his multiple wounds, Martin was able to make his way down the mountain and reach the assembly area. There he received further emergency treatment before being evacuated on a stretcher-laden donkey. Martin’s account somewhat makes light of the considerable time he had to spend recuperating in hospital, and indeed his playful character and sense of humour often masks the grim reality he faced during his time in service.
A series of letters written to his family in England, however, reveal that Martin’s wounds weren’t limited to the physical. Writing from the psychiatric ward of the military hospital, Martin relates:
“I have seen the tragedy of shattered bodies on the battlefield, I have seen them coming in to hospital like red meat and rags on a stretcher, but a week here has convinced me that the tragedy of the shattered mind is more horrible. It was called shell-shock in the last war and is now termed ‘Anxiety-neurosis’ but call it what you will it exists.”[v]
Martin’s wounds had resulted in an unusual disfigurement, whereby his head was permanently tilted at an angle to one side. No amount of physical examination or treatment of the afflicted areas could find cause or yield a remedy. Doctor Palmer[vi], the chief psychiatrist, was convinced the cause was mental rather than physical. In a letter to his sister, Martin recalls the treatment employed by Doctor Palmer:
“I was under sleep treatment for 2 ½ days and [he] gave me a day to recover from the drug which left me quietly and magnificently tight, and although my head still hung, my temper which had frayed alarmingly because of my wretched condition, had smoothed, and I felt positively benevolent. Palmer sent for me and explained that he was going to use ether to loosen my tongue, and he also asked me if I minded an audience as he wished to demonstrate his technique. I had no objection but was surprised when three sweet young things from the Hospital Massage Dept. filed in, also three burly R.A.M.C. male nurses. I lay on a couch, the mask was applied, followed quickly by the smell of ether, and then Palmer began to recount the events of that shocking night [the attack on Mount Ornito]. His voice was far away but clear, and I found myself taking up the story. It was the strangest sensation and difficult to describe, but I felt like three distinct personalities. Martin (A), who knew he was lying on a couch in a room talking, Martin (B) a detached entity watching and describing what Martin (C) was doing. (A) remained static, (B) had to shift about the battleground to keep in touch with (C)! The process was interrupted for a spell by Martin (A) who was a bit naughty and started to fight and struggle, but he couldn’t help it and had a terrific fracas with the R.A.M.C. His knee smashed into something soft, his finger thrust up someone’s nostrils and nipped hard, just as he had been taught to defend himself. Martin (B) was also naughty as he used some filthy soldiers’ language. However we all calmed down eventually as ether was liberally sprinkled on us. The scene came back with hideous clarity, the moon filtering through the clouds, shells screaming through the air, the orange and red stabs of flame as they burst amongst us, earsplitting detonations, clouds of black and yellow smoke and even the stench of Lyddite, and Palmer’s voice distant yet compelling, mercilessly dragged it all out. It is impossible to say what was asked and answered as I remember nothing after the second dose of gas except that I talked and talked rather like a gramophone gone haywire. The climax came when I was recovering full consciousness. The voice was saying “You want to cry – you are going to cry.” Recollecting my audience I fought hard for about 30 seconds, gritted my teeth and said “I’m damned if I do” – and promptly burst into floods of tears! Never had I felt so silly, sitting on a couch weeping as though my heart would break, with three women looking on. It is all apparently part of the treatment, and I am told I have been wanting to cry ever since I was wounded and nothing could benefit me more than to uncork this bottled up emotion. My head was straight when I had time and sanity to notice it and when it started to loll again I received a hard smack on the right side of my face to remind me not to do it! The condition had been caused by the coincidence of all my wounds being on one side of my body: two bullets gashing the left arm, the shrapnel from left to right across my backside and finally the hole in my jaw below the left ear. Most of the shelling was to my left and two of my men whom I helped to die were on the left of my position. They were both very messy and one was noisy. Result – the mind said to the body “Turn away from all this noise, pain and horror.” My head turned as ordered and just stayed there. Palmer explained it thus and told me that as soon as I was properly under the ether I straightened up under his direction.”[vii]
When fully recovered, Martin re-joined No. 9 Commando. He was soon promoted to Captain and joined the Headquarters Staff of No. 2 Special Service Brigade. In his role as Staff Supply Officer, known as ‘Q’, Martin would see further service with the Commando Brigade in Yugoslavia and Albania. Martin ended his military service while on the staff of the Holding Operational Commando (HOC) at Achnacarry, Scotland.
Martin kept in touch with comrades from his Commando days through the Commando Veteran’s Association Newsletter. In a letter to Mr Henry Brown, Secretary of the Commando Association, in December 1979, Martin gave the following apology:
“Sorry I have not attended your unions since the laying up of the Commando Flag in Westminster Abbey, but as I meet former comrades and see them growing old, bald and fat it is always born upon me I am exactly the same and I find the reunions depressing rather than exhilarating!”
Sergeant Ernest Johnstone
Ernest Johnstone is something of an enigma. Archival material in the museum collection tells us that he joined the Cameronians in 1940 and was finally discharged in 1963. A document from the Ministry of Defence provides a summary of his overseas service and shows wartime service in North Africa, Cyprus, Iraq, Persia, North West Europe, and Norway! Some of these places do not tally with field-service battalions of The Cameronians. A certificate of service for Ernest, helps shed some light on this. Between September 1942 and November 1945, Ernest Johnstone was attached to the Special Air Service (SAS).
It appears as though Ernest served with No. 11 (Scottish) Commando before joining the SAS. No. 11 was one of the Commando units sent to North Africa as part of ‘Layforce’, and it was as part of this formation that Ernest possibly saw service in Cyprus. This rather blurry photograph is most intriguing – it appears to show a number of Commandos on the deck of a British submarine.
Photograph said to be of No. 11 Commandos raiding force for Operation Flipper, a raid to kill or capture Rommel from his North African HQ
A note on the reverse suggests that these men are part of No. 11 Commandos raid on Rommel’s North African HQ, code-named Operation Flipper. A mention of Ernest in The Covenanter towards the end of his service refers to him as one of the ‘Cockleshell Heroes’ – this might suggest that Ernest was involved in the canoe squadron of No. 11 Commando that would later become the Special Boat Squadron (SBS).
Even with a list of his overseas postings, it is difficult to say with any certainty which SAS operations Ernest might have taken part in, but it is likely he joined the original L Detachment, raised by David Stirling, which would later become the 1st SAS Regiment.
Ernest Johnstone’s certificate of service, demonstrating wartime service with the SAS. The certificate is signed by SAS legend, Lieutenant Colonel Robert Blair ‘Paddy’ Mayne.
Ernest’s service in North West Europe coincides with a number of behind-enemy-lines missions conducted by 1st SAS, including Operations Haggard, Kipling, and Howard. Service in Norway in the immediate aftermath of Germany’s surrender in May 1945, suggests Ernest took part in Operation Doomsday; the SAS-led expedition to Norway to dis-arm German forces there and prevent the establishment of a ‘second-front’ behind which German troops loyal to Hitler could continue to oppose the Allies.
In the absence of detailed documentary evidence, Sergeant Johnstone’s wartime exploits with the SAS may never be fully known although one can only imagine he would have had no shortage of thrilling wartime stories to tell.
[i] 2nd Cameronians, who took part in the Battle of France, would once again be employed overseas from 1942, in India, Madagascar, the Middle East, Italy and North West Europe. 1st Cameronians would see continuing action against the Japanese in the Far East. 6th, 7th and 9th Cameronians would spend much of the war in a home defence role, and intensive training in preparation for the invasion of Normandy and the Liberation of Europe in the summer of 1944 and beyond.
[ii]The Green Beret: The Story of the Commandos 1940-1945. Saunders, Hilary St. George, New English Library, 1978, pp220-221.
[iii]Soldier of Misfortune, unpublished TS, Ferrey, Martin. CAM.G140
[iv] Martin would learn while recuperating in hospital that Jack Anderson was reported missing and presumed killed during the action at Mount Ornito, possibly killed by the shell-fire that knocked Martin off-his stretcher.
[v] Martin Ferrey letter, 19th March 1944, extract kindly reproduced with permission of the Ferrey family
[vi] Doctor Harold Anstruther Palmer, pioneer of the ether abreaction process of severe battle stress and head of No 7 Base Psychiatric Centre in Caserta, Italy
[vii] Martin Ferrey letter,31st March 1944, extract kindly reproduced with permission of the Ferrey family
When Barrie asked me if I’d like to contribute a piece on the Cameronians Blog about the Home Front for the 75th Anniversary Commemorations, I wondered just where to start and with what relevance to the Regiment?
However, a trawl through the newspaper archive on Find My Past is absolutely addictive, you do quickly end up heading down roads you didn’t plan to go down so self-discipline is vital. But as someone whose Mother was a schoolgirl in Clydebank during the duration of the war, I do have a personal interest in the subject. The questions I wish I could ask now that I didn’t at the time!
I’m fascinated by the build up to hostilities and all the plans and preparations in the local area, I suppose this stems from being a child of the Cold War growing up in Larkhall in the ’70s and ’80s and hearing our air raid siren being sounded regularly to summon our local Fire Brigade into action. It always got your attention!
So reading through the newspapers of the late 1930s and the reporting on how the various schemes and plans were devised has a relevance today with the Covid-19 situation. The Hamilton Barracks would have been the centre point of any planning in terms of available personnel, any air raid in the local area would’ve called upon the full resources of the Regiment at the Depot to assist with rescue and recovery duties, but there was a lot more going on all over Lanarkshire.
The most obvious and still visible signs of the Home Front defences in the local area are of course the remains of the two Anti-Aircraft Gun Emplacements, part of the Clyde Defences. One is up at Limekilnburn alongside the Strathaven Road while the other was situated in the huge camp on the Blantyre Farm Road. The defences in the area were under the command of the 42nd Anti-Aircraft Brigade of the Territorial Army. The 100th Heavy Anti-Aircraft Regiment had it’s Headquarters in Motherwell and was formed in 1939, initially made up of two Batteries, the 304th and 305th. The Emplacements were equipped with four 3.7 inch guns, a Control Bunker with height finding equipment and a Magazine. The sites are still relatively intact to this day, visible on Google Maps and on foot or bicycle in the case of Blantyre Farm. Limekilnburn had also been one of the proposed locations pre-war for a local airfield and fighter station. The remains of another Emplacement are situated near Busby and the White Cart Water.
Three pictures of the Blantyre Farm Road site taken on one of my cycling expeditions in early 2019, with some lovely local artwork added to it.
The most public of the plans were the evacuation and home shelter schemes. Various plans were drawn up for the evacuation of schoolchildren from high threat areas to the countryside, as well as what to do during raid alerts if they were still residing in Hamilton. Even more ominous was the report in 1938 that 350,000 gas masks had been stockpiled in Lanarkshire to be distributed on the eve of war breaking out.
As for public shelters, while many families in Hamilton would be busy building Anderson Shelters in their gardens or preparing their house as shown in the official government booklet, the residents of the newly built houses of the Fairhill Housing Scheme had purpose built, fully equipped basement shelters large enough for four households to take cover in, complete with protection against gas attacks. The official 1938 Home Office issued booklet makes absorbing if grim reading, with step-by-step guides on how to strengthen your house against bomb damage, fire fighting, first aid and most of all preparing your inner “Refuge Room” against the great fear of the time, the use of Mustard Gas. This was vividly portrayed in the 1936 film adaptation of the HG Wells book “Things to Come” with the air raid on “Everytown” that foretold the start of a thirty year long World War beginning on Christmas Day 1940. Combined with the news reports from the Spanish Civil War, the fear of a massive, destructive aerial assault was very real at the time.
As an aside, it’s remarkable to compare the 1938 Home Office booklet with the later Cold War equivalents, the 1960s Civil Defence Handbook #10 and the now legendary Protect and Survive from the late 1970s. The most sobering aspect is how little changed in their content over the decades with the “Refuge Room” becoming the “Fall Out Room” and radioactive fall-out replacing poison gas as the main concern. Even the current “Stay at Home” Covid-19 guidelines have strong echoes of these old civil defence books and the strong stay at home message contained in them.
The Hamilton air raid siren, connected to the National Air Raid Siren Network was situated atop the Burgh Electrical Works. The siren was tested just before the war and again in 1940 when the threat of invasion was very real and before the Luftwaffe came calling to the Clyde in 1941.
The sights and sounds of the war would’ve been highly visible above and around Hamilton, not just because of the huge part the Cameronians played in local life but with so many people in uniform, air raid precautions and the night time Blackout. Post war, so much of it would’ve gathered in Allan Gray’s Garage and Yard down in Braidwood where he did a roaring trade in war surplus lorries, equipment and huts after the War Office sales in Douglas and the decommissioning and dismantling of so many wartime camps. At one auction he was even acting as an agent on behalf of an Argentine concern, buying ex-Army transport to be shipped to South America while for himself he bought a few armoured cars. Even the Duke of Hamilton and his brothers, through the Hamilton Estates, were into war surplus and buying an amphibious DUKW truck at that same auction. They wanted to trial it as a potential ferry service up in the Hebrides.
Over 400 men of The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) were, at some point, captured and made prisoner by the enemy during the Second World War. Almost 150 of these were men of the 2nd Battalion who were captured during the Battle of France and subsequent retreat from Dunkirk.[1]
German Prisoner of War tag, issued to 14383490 Rifleman Robert Smith, 2nd Cameronians. The tag was issued at Stalag VII/A, Germany’s largest POW camp, and is engraved with Smith’s prisoner of war number, 132263.
The plight and welfare of these men was of immediate concern to the Regiment. A number of initiatives and funds were soon in place to provide prisoners with both practical assistance, in the form of food and comfort packages, and with moral support – by way of letters of encouragement, reassurance, and the promise that they and their families would not be forgotten.
As early as November 1939, Major-General Sir Eric Girdwood, Colonel of the Regiment, outlined his plans for a Prisoner of War fund. The fund would be used to send comfort packages to men of the Regiment who were prisoners of war. A similar scheme had been successfully operated in the First World War, administered by Mrs Evelyn Vandeleur, and run out of the Riding School in Hamilton.[2] Evelyn was the wife of Colonel C. B. Vandeleur D.S.O., a Cameronian officer who had himself been a prisoner in the First World War and would find fame as the first British officer to successfully escape and make his way back to Britain.
The new Fund would be administered by Mrs Irene Grant, wife of Major D. C. Grant, Officer Commanding the Regimental Depot Party at Hamilton Barracks. The prisoners’ relief-parcel service was operated by Mrs Jessie Sandilands, wife of Lieutenant-Colonel V. C. Sandilands D.S.O.
The wartime editions of the regimental magazine, The Covenanter, include regular lists of donors and subscribers to the Prisoners of War fund. Donations poured in from the extended regimental family; veterans of the regiments, widows of soldiers killed in service, families of those currently serving – all contributed money to improve the lot of Cameronians in captivity, and at a time when many people would be experiencing hardships of their own. Donations were forthcoming from friends of the Regiment from as far afield as the United States of America, and from closer to home; the post office in Falkland, birthplace of Richard Cameron after whom the Regiment takes its name, collected £20 in public donations and gifted this to the Prisoner of War Fund.
At a regimental level, various fetes, revues and entertainments were put on by the Regimental Depot and Infantry Training Centre at Hamilton to help boost the Comfort Funds.
Programme for a revue held at Hamilton Town Hall in March 1940, to raise money for the Comforts for the Troops Fund.
In 1941, the Regimental Band from the Depot in Hamilton carried out a highly successful fundraising tour of Lanarkshire, where they managed to raise several hundred pounds.
Letters from Cameronian prisoners of war tell just how greatly the men appreciated the efforts of those at home:
January 8, 1943
Dear Hon. Secretary and Committee: Your parcel sent to me dated 25/9/42 arrived safely 31/12/42. As this is the first clothes parcel I have received since becoming a prisoner of war, no words can adequately express my sincerest thanks for this very welcome gift and my utmost appreciation of the noble work of committee and workers. Yours faithfully, L. Addison, Regt. No. 3247334, Stalag XXB.
The Covenanter May 1943
The families of men who were taken prisoner endured constant worry and concern over the welfare of their loved one. It would often takes many weeks or even months before a soldier would be confirmed as a prisoner of war. In the first instance, men were simply reported as ‘missing’. It was only once their whereabouts in a prison of war camp could be confirmed, usually in collaboration with the Red Cross, that their status would be changed to ‘prisoner of war’.
Pamphlet issued to the wife of Rifleman Robert Smith, taken prisoner in Italy on 19th March 1944.
The parents of Lionel Neighbour were informed that their son had been posted as ‘missing’ on May 31st 1940. Lionel was one of many men of 2nd Cameronians reported missing during the retreat and subsequent evacuation at Dunkirk. It wasn’t until the morning of August 30th, however – three months later – that a letter arrived from Lionel, stating that he was a prisoner of war. During that time, Lionel’s parents had no news concerning his whereabouts and were starting to fear the worst. The relief of a very concerned mother and father is evident in their reply to their son’s letter:
Letter to Lionel Neighbour from ‘Mum & Dad’ on learning that he was alive and a prisoner of war.
Monday 2nd September 1940
Dear Lionel
I hope you will be able to realize that the amount of joy and pleasure your letter gave to us all is almost indescribable. We were officially informed from records that you were reported missing on the 31st May. Every day and every week since then we have been hoping to receive some word to say that you were alive until quite recently when we all began to give up hope. When the wonderful news arrived, we could hardly believe our eyes. We see your letter was written on the 21st June but we only received it on Saturday morning the 30th Aug. I hope this letter will not take as long to reach you. And was everyone at the “Duck-in-the-pond” and elsewhere pleased also. They have all asked us to send you their kind regards & best wishes and we all sincerely hope it will not be so very long before we shall see you again, in the meantime we all wish you as good a time as is possible under the circumstances. We are all very pleased to know that you are keeping well and being treated decently. If they treat you as well as we treat our prisoners of War I know that you will not come to much harm. Well Lionel son, kept smiling, it may be a long lane yet, although I hope not, but an ending to this terrible affair must come sometime, and then I hope we shall all meet together again and have one glorious celebration. Things are much the same as when you saw us last here at Stanmore. I am still with the old firm and have recently obtained a couple of contracts. Mum, Emily, Winnie, little Michael, Pat, Brenda, Joan & Tommy are all keeping very well. Joan has now left school and is trying to get a job near home. We are not anxious for her to commence work, but if she can get one locally it will keep her out of mischief. Phillip, Stanley, Charlie & Jack are all keeping fit and well at the moment. Charlie passes out in a couple of months. Well Lionel son, there’s one item of very bad news to tell you – Poor Clive was killed in action on the 3rd Aug. Jack Neighbour is still busy and he and the family are all keeping well, this also applies to Uncle Ben and Aunt Phylis. Also Grandpa Neighbour is still keeping well, at any rate he was when we saw him last which was about 3 weeks ago. Hope to hear from you again very shortly and if there is anything you require and we are allowed to send it, you can rest assured we shall do so. We all send you our fond love and best wishes.
Yours affectionately
Mum & Dad
On 19th March 1944, around 35 men of ‘B’ Company, 2nd Cameronians, were taken prisoner while engaged with the Axis forces around the Anzio beachhead. Among those taken prisoner were Robert Smith and Reginald (Reg) Poynter. Robert had left a wife and young son back home in Glasgow when he joined The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles). Reg had been married to his beloved Millie for little over a year when he enlisted in January 1943. The two men, along with their comrades who had been taken prisoner, would endure months of hardship as they made the long journey from Rome, through Austria, into Germany, and ultimately to Poland – covering most of the distance on foot through a series of gruelling, forced marches. Robert’s wife was given a map of Europe by the Red Cross, on which were marked the various Italian and German prisoner of war camps. As news trickled in over the weeks and months as to her husband’s current whereabouts, Mrs Smith would write a number next to the name of the camp in which her husband was detained. Given the men’s constant movement and the delays in forwarding letters and parcels to prisoners through the Red Cross, it was almost impossible for these prisoners to correspond with their families back home. The map was Mrs Smith’s only means of keeping in touch with her husband.
Section of the Red Cross map issued to Mrs Smith, who has numbered the camps Stalag 344 and Stalag VIIIB – the last two camps in which her husband was detained.
Reg Poynter somehow managed to keep a diary covering much of his time as a prisoner of war. Through this we get some measure of the stress, loneliness, anxiety and physical hardship that was typical of life as a prisoner of war. Being unable to communicate with Millie back home and reassure her that he was alive was a daily torture for Reg. His diary is filled with little messages to Millie, written in lieu of the letters that he was so seldom able to send, and even then never knowing if she would ever receive them.
Mon. 27 (March) – Still in this dirty camp waiting to be moved and we had everything taken from us. I could [do] with some of Millie’s home cooking and a smoke.
Tue. 28 Well Millie, food is very bad, we are starving, all looking very weak, one loaf of Black Bread between five a day.
Wed. 29 Oh Millie, how I miss you, and worried wondering how things will turn out, wish this war would end.
Thur. 30 Shall be pleased to move from this camp, the food is the same and the fleas are eating us away.
In this extract Reg has been a prisoner for three months. Here he describes the march north towards Germany.
Fri. 16 (June) I’ve said to Millie sometimes not to waste crusts, but Millie would always see I had the best, now I am in need of them, the old saying ‘waste not want not’.
Sat. 17 We moved out of here, walked 18kg [km] through the night and slept on a football field in Florence, then when daylight came we walked –
Sun. 18 – all the way back to the same camp as we could not get through for bombing. I am very tired, stiff and hungry.
Memo. When we marched through Florence, some of the boys tried to escape. Jerry just shot them and left them in the road for trucks to run over – what a terrible sight.
After almost six months of being a prisoner of war, Reg arrived in Poland where he would remain until his liberation by the Russians on 16th March 1945.
Fri. 8 (September) Parcel day so had a good feed, the weather is very warm like midsummer, there’s been a cricket match today and football tomorrow.
Sat. 9 I am not too bad, only worried about my next move which I think is tomorrow. I am very fed up of this life & wonder how I stick it.
Sun. 10 Moving to a new camp in Poland, it looks like the mines – just fancy, after all I’ve been through, now come to this.
Memo. Yes, its the mines alright, in Poland in a new camp, which is OK. food not so good and no parcels.
Both Robert Smith and Reg Poynter would make it home once again and be reunited with the loved ones they had been separated from for so long. Their final prison camp in Poland, where they had been forced to labour in local coal mines, was liberated by the advancing Russian Army. After another series of gruelling marches ahead of the Russians, the men finally made it to the Allied lines, malnourished and suffering from the hardships of prison life, but alive.
The 1st Cameronians spent the duration of the Second World War in India and Burma, fighting the Japanese. A number of 1st Battalion men would ultimately become prisoners of war of the Japanese, and endure terrible hardship and cruelty at the hands of their captors. Many of these men would spend the duration of their imprisonment in the notorious Rangoon Gaol, such as Rifleman Leslie Spoors, who wrote a memoir of his time as a prisoner of war under the Japanese:
“I was captured on the 19th April having been wounded in the arm with shrapnel the day before. We were all wounded – that’s why we were taken so easily, we couldn’t make a run for it. We were taken to a group of Burmese huts where our boots were removed, and the laces used to tie our hands behind our backs. More and more men were brought in during the night until eventually we were cramped together on the floor. It was a Sunday when we were put into the huts and we were there four days and four nights. We had nothing to eat all that time and nothing to drink although we made feeble attempts to drink our own urine. All our body wastes just collected beneath us in the huts. I thought we might never see the light of day again. But we did, for after four days we were freed from the indescribable stench. Captain Bradford-Martin had been brought into the hut during the first night, along with his batman. On the third day, we heard rain on the roof, a Mango shower as we called it, and Bradford-Martin decided to try and break through the thatched straw. Whether he intended to escape or just get a drink I never knew, but his batman followed him. They had both got through the hole they had made when two shots were heard. The batman fell back through the hole – Bradford-Martin was never seen or heard of again. It wasn’t long before the Japs came in and if the batman wasn’t already dead, they soon made sure that he was.”[3]
The rather grainy photograph, above, comes from The Covenanter, and shows liberated prisoners from the 1st Battalion at a tea party held in their honour by General Sir O’Connor (who himself had been a prisoner of war in Italy). Five of the men shown are former prisoners (judging by the thinness of their arms presumably they are the two men seated left, the man seated right, and the two men seated at the front). Their names are given in the article as: Sergeant McKenna, Rifleman Sherwin, Rifleman Spoors, Rifleman Leggatte, and Rifleman Martin.
Life as a prisoner of the Japanese was particularly brutal – the death rate among allied prisoners under the Japanese being almost seven times higher than those under Germany and Italy. Men of Lanarkshire’s local TA unit, the 155th (Lanarkshire Yeomanry) Field Regiment Royal Artillery, suffered particularly at the hands of the Japanese following the fall of Singapore in February 1942 – 90 of their number would die as prisoners of war.
There were some amazing instances where Cameronian prisoners of war were able to escape. An Evening Times article from May 1st 1944, quoted in The Covenanter , recounts one such story:
The remarkable escape of a Blantyre soldier from a Japanese prisoner of war camp in Burma was fully described to a ‘Times’ correspondent on his unexpected return last week to his sister’s home at 5 Watson Street, Blantyre, Lanarkshire.
He is Rifleman John Cook, The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles), and has been on service in India for five years. About a year ago, Rifleman Cook, with a number of his companions, was taken prisoner, but after six months in captivity he managed to escape.
Their prison camp was in a clearing in the heart of the jungle, which was guarded day and night, and the food supplied to the men was a disgrace. The men had little opportunity of conversing with each other, but freedom was naturally uppermost in their minds.
One night the opportunity did present itself, and Cook and six of his companions decided to make a bold bid for freedom. In the darkness they made their way past the guard but their escape was detected and in the hue and cry which followed, Cook was the only one to gain his freedom, but he does not know what happened to his companions.
After wandering through the jungle for days and living solely on water melons and what fruits he could find, he ultimately reached a Ghurka camp.
As a result of his sufferings he was very ill for some time and completely lost his voice. Afterwards, British officers arrived and had him medically attended to.
Rifleman Cook is home on 28 days’ leave and expects that he will soon be back to his former health.
The most famous regimental escape story must belong to Lieutenant-General (later General Sir) Richard O’Connor, who had been a regimental officer with The Cameronians and would ultimately serve as Colonel of the Regiment. O’Connor had been captured by the Italians in North Africa in April 1941. O’Connor and a number of other senior officers would escape from their Italian prison camp in late 1943, and make their way back to Britain. O’Connor would go on to command VIII Corps during the invasion of Normandy in the summer of 1944.[4]
No account of Cameronian prisoners of war would be complete without mention of Lieutenant Colonel (later Major General) J. D. Frost, who was famously captured leading the 2nd Parachute Battalion at Arnhem during Operation Market Garden. Frost would be immortalised on screen, played by Anthony Hopkins, in the blockbuster movie “A Bridge Too Far”.[5]
John Frost, of Arnhem fame, as a newly joined 2nd Lieutenant with The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles), 1933.
An article in the January 1945 edition of The Covenanter relayed the news of Frost’s fate after Arnhem:
Missing – Now P.O.W.
In our last issue, reported that Lieutenant-Colonel. J. D. Frost, D.S.O., Parachute Regiment, had been reported missing at Arnhem. We now learn from Colonel Frost’s sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Frogley … that he is a prisoner of war in Germany. From information received, it appears that Colonel Frost was hit in both legs by splinters from a trench mortar bomb and was taken into a house with the rest of the wounded. The house caught fire that night and a truce was made with the Germans, who took all the wounded to their hospital at Arnhem. Next day they were removed into Germany. Colonel Frost was later operated on by a French surgeon, and is now walking again. His many friends will be pleased to learn that he is safe and well and that their fears for his safety have been unfounded.
[1] These figures are based on the work of Mr Adrian Smith, who has been kind enough to share his research with me on numerous occasions.
[2] During the First World War the Riding School was still part of the Duke of Hamilton’s estate. It is now home to The Cameronians regimental museum displays as part of Low Parks Museum.
[3] Extract from “Rangoon Gaol”, privately published account of Rifleman Leslie Spoors.
[4] For a full account of O’Connor’s military service, capture and escape, see The Forgotten Victor by John Baynes.
[5] See Frost’s autobiographies; Nearly There (for his service with The Cameronians) and A Drop Too Many (for his wartime exploits with The Parachute Regiment).
This is the first of our #WW2at75 series of blog posts, exploring stories from the Second World War on the 75th anniversary of the War’s end. In this post we’re going to look at the Regimental Depot of The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) at Hamilton Barracks and its role during the War. We will also take a look at some of the regimental personalities who, for a time, called Hamilton ‘home’.
Many of The Cameronians’ wartime recruits would have passed through Hamilton at some point during the Second World War. Hamilton Barracks had been home to The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) Regimental Depot since 1881[i]. Shortly after War broke out in late 1939, an Infantry Training Centre (ITC) was established in Hamilton and took over much of the training responsibilities from the Depot. In August 1941, the ITC moved to Aberdeen and was reconstituted as No. 9 Infantry Training Centre; Regimental Headquarters remaining with the Depot in Hamilton.
Hamilton Barracks were built in 1795 as a cavalry barracks, originally with space to accommodate 170 soldiers and 189 horses[ii]. The ground floor of the barrack buildings provided stabling for a regiment’s horses, with soldiers’ accommodation located above. By the 1850s the barracks were shared by a mix of cavalry and infantry units and were also headquarters of local militia regiment, the Royal Lanark Militia. The cavalry finally left the barracks in 1877 to go to Maryhill Barracks in Glasgow, after which Hamilton was left solely as an infantry barracks.
The barracks in Hamilton occupied a long, narrow strip of land running parallel to Bothwell Road from (what is now) Almada Street to just beyond (what is now) Caird Street. When built in the 1790s, the barracks were outside the centre of town, in a fairly rural area but with good road (and later rail) links to Glasgow and Lanark.
In 1881, Hamilton Barracks became home of the regimental depots of The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) and the Highland Light Infantry (HLI); shortly after the First World War, the HLI depot moved to Glasgow leaving The Cameronians as sole occupants. The Regimental Depot was home to a permanent staff of Officers, Non-Commissioned-Officers and trained men, responsible for the training of new recruits. The Depot was also home to the soldiers’ Married Quarters, where the families of men on the Married Establishment (i.e. those who had married with their Commanding Officer’s permission) resided while their husband served overseas.
In the years preceding the Second World War, soldiers joining The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) would initially join the Regimental Depot where they would receive their recruits training over a period of roughly 18 weeks. On completion of this training they were generally posted to whichever Regular Battalion of the Regiment was on Home Service; this Battalion was then responsible for sending reinforcing drafts, as required, to the other Regular Battalion, usually stationed overseas.
In July 1939, shortly before the outbreak of war, a new batch of recruits arrived at Hamilton Barracks; these were the Militiamen – who would in fact become Britain’s first conscripts of the Second World War. This new ‘Militia’ was raised in 1939 in the face of growing tensions with Nazi Germany; the idea being to create a pool of trained men to call on in an emergency by giving all men between 20 and 22 years of age six months of military training before returning them to civilian life. With the outbreak of War in September the Militia scheme was abandoned and conscription introduced.
With Britain’s entry into the War came the need to train recruits on a scale not seen since the First World War. As such, an Infantry Training Centre (ITC) was established at Hamilton Barracks to help mould and shape this new influx of raw recruits into trained soldiers. The ITC quickly spilled over to Hamilton Racecourse where tented accommodation and training facilities were established. Officers posted to the Infantry Training Centre were either housed in the Officers’ Mess, or billeted in private residences throughout the town and beyond. A number of officers who lived locally were able to return home each night following training. One such officer who found himself in this fortunate position was Martin Ferrey, who lived in Burnside with his wife, Mary:
I was delighted to find that the war was conducted in proper British fashion at the Depot from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. and I was always able to catch the 5.15 bus home after the last parade had finished and furthermore sleeping out passes were readily available, but not I discovered on Thursday evenings which were decreed as “Mess Nights” when all officers had to dine in, a rule introduced by the Commanding Officer, who, as his home was in High Wycombe was the only one of us unable to spend the evening with his wife and children & I suppose felt lonely dining each night with only the Duty Officer to keep him company.[iii]
Thousands of men passed through the Infantry Training Centre in Hamilton for their military induction and training before being posted to a Cameronian battalion, either in the UK or overseas.
Recruits’ training focused primarily on drill and weapons training, where men were introduced to the tools of their trade, such as the .303 Lee Enfield rifle, the Bren light machine gun, and the anti-tank rifle. Regular route marches through the town and surrounding area helped raise general fitness and also condition the recruits’ feet to long marches in army-issue boots. Early recruits were identifiable by the distinctly un-Scottish forage cap; the Glengarry being the reserve of the trained soldier, officer and instructor. This rule was later relaxed (and due in no small part to increased availability of uniform and kit) and subsequently all recruits were issued with a Tam O’Shanter cap on arrival.
A typical day for the recruits involved Reveille (wake-up by bugle call) at 6:30am, breakfast at 7:15am, Parade at 8:30am, and then drill, training, kit cleaning etc., until 4:30pm. Although the day’s training was hard, recruits were able to make the most of their free time during the evenings and their one ‘day off’ a week. The Barracks in Hamilton had it’s own NAAFI (Navy, Army, and Air Force Institutes) canteen and a YMCA (Young Men’s Christian Association) hut where both organised and improptu entertainment could be found in the manner of shows, plays, sing songs etc. After a few weeks of initial training, when the recruits were considered to be of a suitably soldier-like appearance, they were allowed out of Barracks to sample what Hamilton had to offer:
There is not much to do except the Pictures; I hope to get out some time this week to see the ‘Thief of Bagdad’. There are 3 picture houses in the town, the Odeon, Regal, and a bug-hutch, it is a proper Barracks Town with plenty of local talent around the Barrack entrance…[iv]
There was even time to soak up some of the local culture, by way of organised visits to local attractions such as Hamilton Mausoleum:
Having thoroughly explored the wonders of the interior, our guide conducted us outside to the front of the building. I, for one, had admired the lions on their pedestals and the three carved heads several times before, but had never had them explained to me… The three human heads represent Life, Death, and Immortality. Life has a sad and worried look, Death looks very peaceful, but the most striking thing about the whole three is the expression in the eyes of Immortality. The eyes are open, a very unusual thing in a carving of stone, and they are marvelously alive. They seem to look into the distance over one’s head and to see something far beyond human vision. The expression is one of calm happiness. I shall certainly remember that look when I have forgotten even the echo of the Mausoleum.[v]
In August 1941, the Infantry Training Centre at Hamilton was moved to Aberdeen. There it was reformed as the No. 9 Infantry Training Centre along with the Highland Light Infantry, and the Gordon Highlanders. With the onus of the training of the Regiment’s recruits moved elsewhere, life at Hamilton Barracks calmed somewhat. By the mid-1940s many of the buildings in the Barracks had been condemned as a result of subsidence caused by coal mining. Indeed, the handsome Officers’ Mess building had already succumbed to this in 1934. The Mess building was demolished and the Royal Arms of George III, which had graced the portico facade since it was built, was moved to the Sergeant’s Mess building on the east side of the barrack square.
Although the steady stream of recruits had dwindled at Hamilton from late 1941 onwards, the Barracks was still home for the remainder of the War to the Regimental Depot Party, the Regimental Museum (which first opened in the Barracks in 1931), headquarters for various local Home Guard units, and to units of the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service – the Women’s branch of the Army during Wartime).
The Regimental Depot Party, under the command of Major Donald Grant since early 1940, was responsible for the every-day admin of the Regiment, including the storage of regimental property, regimental finances, the regimental association, and the production and distribution of the regimental magazine, The Covenanter. The Depot Party were inundated with requests for information on officers and men who had been reported missing in action. As a result Major Grant and his small staff were in constant correspondence with officers in the various battalions of the Regiment on active service across the globe in an effort to keep tabs on the comings and goings of personnel and keep worried families furnished with news of their loved ones. The Regimental Comforts and Prisoners of War Funds were also run and administered from Hamilton Barracks, under the careful guidance of Mrs Irene Grant (wife of Major Grant) and Mrs V. C. Sandilands (wife of another senior Cameronian officer).
In his farewell letter to the Regiment on the end of his tenure as Colonel of the Regiment, Major-General Sir Eric Girdwood wrote:
There are so many people to whom, not only my personal thanks, but the thanks of the whole Regiment, are due, that it would require a special edition of “The Covenanter” if I were to name them all. Chief, however, amongst these are Mrs. Donald Grant, who as Hon. Secretary of The Cameronians Comforts and Prisoners of War Funds, who from their inception has never for one moment relaxed her efforts – not even when mourning the death in action of her only son [vi] – on behalf of the Regiment. Without her inspiring self-sacrifice and willing and cheerful work the successful issue of these activities could never have been achieved.
To Mrs. V. C. Sandilands for her splendid handling of our P.O.W. parcel service throughout all these long weary years of war to which the grateful letters of the recipients bear far better testimony than any poor words of mine. To both these ladies we all owe a debt of gratitude that we can never hope to repay.
To Major Donald Grant I can only say a very big “Thank You”. I do not speak of his excellent work as Depot Party Commander – that is for others to do. I speak of the hundred and one other matters, far outside his ordinary military duties, the burden of which invariably fell on his already overburdened shoulders, but never once in all the past 6 years did he fail me or anyone in the Regiment who sought his willing help. I know that every C.O. when he wanted anything at once appealed to “Donald.” His one and only thought has been throughout these years of endurance – “The Regiment.”
To my old and trusty friend, Lt.-Col. J. F. Lindsay, M.B.E., who has perhaps done more for the individual Cameronian than any man I know. With his age and service many would have been content to rest on their laurels. Not so he. Out and about at all hours of the day and night, traveling great distances in the extreme discomfort of wartime transport and the most inclement weather – nothing daunted him, his only incentive “Service” to the Regiment.
To both these officers I am so deeply indebted that I can find no words in which I can adequately express my gratitude for their help, sympathy and encouragement at all times.
And last but not least to that faithful little “Band of Brothers” – The Regimental Depot Party – Mr. Dunn, our able, willing and cheerful Bandmaster – to C.Q.M.S Ahlers, Mr. Poppleton and Mr. Thomson whose team work pulled us through all our difficulties. I can only say to these unsung heroes that they pulled their weight nobly and have earned the gratitude and the esteem of the whole Regiment.
Once more I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Goodbye. Good luck and God bless you all.[vii]
So, what then ultimately became of Hamilton Barracks and the Regimental Depot of The Cameronians?
The previously mentioned subsidence problems along with the overall age, condition and maintenance costs of Hamilton Barracks had led to the decision to remove The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) from Hamilton in the mid-1930s. New barracks were in the process of being built at Lanark when the outbreak of War put the Regiment’s move on hold. It wasn’t until 1947 that the Regiment would occupy its new Home at Lanark’s Winston Barracks.
Hamilton Barracks survived for several years after the Second World War, and was home to Territorial Reserve units of the Royal Army Service Corps, Royal Army Medical Corps, Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, and a unit of the Army Cadet Force and Air Training Corps. The aging buildings were finally demolished and, by the early 1970s, another multi-story building would soon grace the Hamilton skyline in the form of Bell College of Technology.
Today, much of the site of the Barracks is occupied by the (recently vacated) University of the West of Scotland. The only physical reminder that the Barracks ever existed on the site are the surviving sections of the original boundary wall and the Army Reserve and Cadet centre on Bothwell Road. With the recent move of the University to a new campus elsewhere in Hamilton the site is scheduled for future redevelopment.
It is a sobering thought to consider that many of the 1,222 men of The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) who died in service during the Second World War would, at some point, have passed through the Regiment’s home town of Hamilton.
The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) connection with Hamilton is preserved through the Regimental Museum collection, housed within Low Parks Museum, just a few hundred yards east of where Hamilton Barracks – the Regiment’s home for the best part of a century – once stood.
[i] One of The Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) antecedent regiments, the 90th (Perthshire) Light Infantry, had its depot at Hamilton Barracks prior to its 1881 amalgamation with the 26th Cameronian Regiment.
[ii] One of the first units based in Hamilton Barracks was the Norfolk Regiment of Fencible Cavalry, who were stationed in the town in the late 1790s.
[iii] Ferrey, M. Unpublished MS in Museum Collection (CAM.G140)
[iv] Letter from Rifleman Wallis, April 1941. Private collection, courtesy of Mr Steven Brown
[v] “Impressions of the Mauseleum [sic]” by Private J. G. MacPherson. The Covenanter, September 1941
[vi] Major and Mrs Grant’s son, Geoffrey, was killed during the War. He was a Glider Pilot in the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve and was killed on operations in March 1945. Geoffrey and his wife, Barbara, had lived in Stonehouse.
[vii] Farewell Letter from the Colonel of the Regiment. The Covenanter, January 1946.
