Duncan Harley reflects on Life, the Universe and Everything. A sideways look at the world and its foibles.
It’s been quite a while since Grumpy Jack made the digital front-page. In fact, I am struggling to decide whether number-nine is the correct nomenclature for this edition of the musings.
In number-one, I recall penning something about the risks of texting while driving. Number- two had me misquoting a local daily as having headlined on ‘Titanic sinks, North East man loses pound on Broad Street’. In Grumpy Jack’s Corner No. 5, Full Metal Prince Harry, Chelsea Tractors and the SS Politician got the bullet alongside 264,000 bottles of best highland malt and a local Inverurie pub called The Butcher’s Arms.
Saville, Warhol and the Great Gale of 1953 all – in their turn – got a good kicking, and why not I hear you say.
A silly fall out with a fellow writer led to Grumpy Jack’s demise in – I think far off 2014. Or was it 2013? I forget. Suitable apologies have been made and neither of us can really recall the reason why. There surely is history.
So why, I hear you ask, is Jack back?
Well, it’s all down to the Lord Provost of Aberdeen really. A splendid chap by the name of Barney Crockett. He recently commented on a misleading post regarding the invasion of George Square on social media and, within Nano-seconds, a piece penned in far off 2013 came back to haunt me.
Picture the scene if you will. The “War to end all wars” has recently ended and the troops have returned home to discover that all is not well in Scotland-shire. There are few jobs for the returning heroes and working conditions are poor with low wages and a long working week.
The workforce which had been in reserved occupations manufacturing the arms and tools for war are unhappy with the cuts in the standard working week due to the fact that the war has ended and there is no longer much demand in France for barbed wire, bullets and explosives. Plus of course the Bolshevist revolution has taken place leading to the early demise of the entire Russian Royal Family via firing squad.
So, on Friday 31st January 1919, after a general strike by 40,000 workers in the industrial heartland of Scotland, there was a mass rally in Glasgow’s George Square.
Now the aim of the rally was to hear the response of the UK government to the workers’ demands so the Lord Provost, Sir James Watson Stewart, and the Trades Council President, Mannie Shinwell, duly entered the City Chambers to have a wee natter.
Sadly, things got out of control. As they talked, the police baton charged the assembled crowd.
A magistrate tried to read the Riot Act but had the document taken from his hands and ripped up and things just got from bad to worse. Seasoned troops from south of the border were instructed to open fire if required to do so and the failure of the police to control the riot prompted the Coalition Government under one David Lloyd George – of Lendrum to Leeks fame – to react.
After Scottish Secretary Robert Munro described the riot as a Bolshevist uprising troops armed with machine guns, tanks and even a howitzer arrived to occupy Glasgow’s streets.
The howitzer was positioned on the City Chambers steps facing the crowd, the local cattle market was transformed into a tank depot, machine guns were posted on the top of the North British Hotel, the Glasgow Stock Exchange and the General Post Office Buildings.
As is usual in such situations no local troops were used. The local battalions who had recently returned from France were confined in Maryhill Barracks while battle-hardened troops from south of the border were instructed to open fire if required to do so.
Amazingly, there was no major bloodshed.
There were broken heads that afternoon but the Southern soldiers were never ordered to open fire. The government of the day obviously decided that it would be a bad idea to provoke social change via bloodshed.
Activist and sometime MP, Mannie Shinwell and fellow trade union activists were jailed for a bit before a 47-hour working week was agreed. Things then smouldered on until the 1922 General Strike. But that’s another story.
The helicopter-door-gunner sequence in Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket kind of sums up what nearly happened in George Square in far off 1919:
So, and moving on, here is Jack some years on and suffering from retirement, ill health and old age. More words are on the way probably. Unless, of course, I die soon. I forgot to say that the NHS are out to kill me.
More next week – that is if I survive that long.
– Grumpy Jack
PS: Thanks for the memories Barney. We all love what you do. Keep up the Lord Provosting – you do it well.
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Although it is almost inevitable that events are overtaken by time, and that the effect of history on localities dissipates, the name St Valéry-en-Caux, a small Normandy fishing village, continues to resonate in NE Scotland, even 77 years on from the scenes that accord that tiny French port a special place in Scottish military history.
It is said that there is scarcely an NE family which hasn’t been touched in some way by the events of June 1940, the surrender of the stranded and embattled 51st (Highland) Division, and the incarceration of thousands of Scottish soldiers in prisoner of war camps for the duration of the Second World War.
These were our forgotten casualties of that conflict, and it was a gross unfairness and insult to these brave, fortitudinous men who suffered the privations of capture, forced march and imprisonment to be described as having enjoyed an Easy War.
Stewart Mitchell, who named the Gordon Highlanders’ Museum’s excellent 2011 POW exhibition The Easy War, re-tells the story of the lead-up to Dunkirk and St Valéry, using personal accounts, some of which are now in the public domain for the first time, without resorting to military tactical terminology and technical jargon, often confusing to the lay reader.
Those of us who have had a long fascination with this episode of military and social history will have read accounts of the 51st’s manoeuvres, capture, treatment and liberation and of the social outcomes of returning home after half a decade of imprisonment. Tony Rennell, Sean Longden, Saul David, Alan Allport, Julie Summers, and Banffshire’s own Charles Morrison have all contributed to building a picture of a time of uncertainty, fortitude and, all too often, personal and familial misfortune.
It is in the re-telling of personal accounts that Mitchell excels, and he succeeds in making St Valéry more than just another military history. We hear of regular soldiers, Territorials and militiamen called up to serve when war was declared in September 1939, their backstories often of innocent city, village and country loons thrown into the jaws of an unforgiving mechanised conflict, and losing some of their most promising youthful years behind barbed wire.
Yet, there are personal recollections of derring-do, heroism, resourcefulness, smeddum and survival against heavily-stacked odds, told in fitting tribute to often forgotten men.
The volume’s appendix is unique in imbuing a personal touch to what is a harrowing, yet spirit-affirming story. Mitchell’s painstaking research has seen him identify from military records, every Gordon Highlander captured or killed in France in 1940.
My own maternal grandfather, army number 2870474 among the oldest of the Territorials called up at 37, who was 38 by the time of capture, and 44 before he was liberated, is included. That that saw my emotions well up 77 years after that fateful morning in Normandy, verifies that this a book that goes way beyond normal military history, as a chronicle of a part-generation of NE men. For that, it deserves your support.
Stewart Mitchell is making a generous contribution from the book’s sales to the Gordon Highlanders’ Museum Appeal. Please consider giving this splendid local cultural venue your support too.
STEWART MITCHELL St Valéry And Its Aftermath The Gordon Highlanders Captured In France In 1940
Pen & Sword Military
235 pp
Hardback ISBN 978 1 47388 658 2
£25.00
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The second Blooming Big Aberdeen friendly bench has been unveiled in Seaton Park by veterans’ charity Erskine in their centenary year.
The Lord Provost of Aberdeen, George Adam, officially revealed the Erskine bench, painted with the colours of the medal ribbon which features on the charities logo, on Cathedral Walk.
The purpose of the ribbon is to connect Erskine in a clear way to its core focus – provision of care to members and ex members of the armed services.
Erskine has four care homes in Scotland, providing nursing, residential, respite and dementia care to veterans and their spouses. The charity supports over 1,000 veterans and their spouses each year.
The friendly bench project is one of the most recent initiatives to have arisen from the Big Aberdeen Event in September 2014 and is supported by ACVO TSI in partnership with Aberdeen City Council. Third sector organisations were invited to claim and design a bench in the city to raise awareness of the support and services they provide, with Erskine jumping at the chance to get involved.
Erskine Community Fundraiser for the North, Michael Parkes has invited local volunteers and supporters to the unveiling at 1pm as a thank you for all they do for the charity.
Speaking about the bench Michael said:
“It is a great honour for Erskine’s Blooming Big Aberdeen friendly bench to be in one of Aberdeen’s most popular green spaces. Thanks to our bench designers, Neil and Louise McIvor, they have helped make Cathedral Way even more picturesque!
“The project is a fantastic way to promote the charity in the city. We will also be able to use it as an outreach point for local supporters, volunteers and veterans. The North of Scotland has a rich history in the services so it is great that we can recognise this with the Erskine bench.
“One of our veterans currently being cared for at The Erskine Home is originally from the Hilton area in Aberdeen. Previous residents have also served in the Gordon Highlanders.”
Lord Provost George Adam said:
“This initiative is a creative way of promoting the vital work of the third sector and at the same time adding something new to our parks and open spaces. Erskine does an outstanding job caring for our veterans and I hope people using the park will see the bench and take the time to find out more. A lot of work has been done in Seaton Park recently and I’d encourage everyone to come down and see how great it’s looking.”
Anyone interested in supporting Erskine locally can contact Michael Parkes on 07811 326 206.
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The Duke of Rothesay attended a ceremony on Sunday in the Lower Cabrach, one of Scotland’s most remote communities. He had come to lay a wreath at newly-constructed memorial cairn. Suzanne Kelly attended.
The Cabrach is perhaps best known for its dramatic, beautiful scenery and for being the home of whisky.
The Gordon family residence is here in the sparsely-populated area, home to generations of Scotland’s first family of whisky.
The Cabrach cairn, in the Lower Cabrach area, is a new, beautiful dry stone monument to those from the area who fell not only in World War I, but in all subsequent conflicts.
Until recent research revealed the truth, it was thought that the number of those from the Cabrach who fell in the Great War was far less than one hundred. The truth emerged that perhaps some 300 lives were lost.
This was mainly to illness. When the recruits left the area to go to war, they had little in the way of natural immunity, and many were tragically killed by disease.
Prince Charles – the Duke of Rothesay as he is known in Scotland – laid a wreath and talked to an assembly of residents. This wreath was red poppies with three white feathers with a card which read:
“In special memory of those from the Cabrach, and the parishes of Rhynie, Lumsden and Dufftown who lost their lives during the First World War. Charles”
One of those present was John Gordon. As a young man of 16 in World War II, he was kept in the area to do essential agricultural work and to serve on the Home Guard. He told Aberdeen Voice:
“I joined the Home Guard; I got my medal about 10 year ago. This medal is the Royal Observer Corps. I was in and saw the bombing that happened in Aberdeen. The Germans flew over here too; they dropped a bomb on the Upper Cabrach. Aye, they put a bomb up there in the Upper Cabrach.”
After the Duke left, a second ceremony was held for the entire community with music and the Lonach Pipe Band and a huge spread of food. Photographs of the cairn in progress over the months adorned the community centre walls.
Marc Ellington spearheaded the project; funding for which mainly came from the Gordon family.
Ellington said:
“Each and every aspect of the construction of the cairn has involved members, both young and old, of the Cabrach Community working closely with master craftsman Euan Thompson, a specialist in traditional dry stone construction.
“As well as being one of the finest memorial cairns to be built in Scotland in recent years, this is an outstanding example of what a local community, working together with energy and determination, can achieve.”
Both Ellington and community leader Patti Nelson gave speeches and thanked everyone who assisted and who attended. Marc was assisted on the day by Gemma Louise Cook.
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Venues all around Aberdeen hosted historical events recently as city centre group Aberdeen Inspired wowed onlookers of all ages with recreations of historical events in a signature event entitled Bon Accord to Bayonets.
In Queens Terrace Gardens the First World War was solemnly remembered by the by the war re-creation group “The Gordon Highlanders” who re-enacted scenes from the Battle of Mons which began on August 23rd 1914 and became the first major action seen by the British Expeditionary Force during the First World War.
Aberdeenshire’s Battle of Harlaw was re-fought by the locally based Medieval Real Re-enactment Group who staged battle scenes complete with period knights in full 15th century armour and with the re-assuringly predicable outcome that, even 700 years on, Aberdeen won the battle yet again but in this case with no serious injuries.
Marischal College quadrangle was the scene of a Mary Queen of Scots performance where the queen and her ladies in waiting met all comers to share the secrets of medieval royal court dress etiquette.
A falconry display at Union Terrace Gardens and a display of juggling for all the family completed the weekend which was well attended by folk from far and wide.
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[Aberdeen Voice accepts and welcomes contributions from all sides/angles pertaining to any issue. Views and opinions expressed in any article are entirely those of the writer/contributor, and inclusion in our publication does not constitute support or endorsement of these by Aberdeen Voice as an organisation or any of its team members.]
Lord Kitchener is to be featured on the new Royal Mint £2 coin.
Kitchener drowned after his ship was sunk at sea on the 7 May 1916 but in some quarters the man is still celebrated as an heroic general who rallied the nation to send the youth of Scotland to their deaths in the madness of the trenches of France and Belgium during the first years of that war to end all wars.
Thought by some modern thinkers to be a thoroughly nasty man, in 1898 he famously sent a force of 8,200 British troops equipped with modern weapons against 20,000 Sudanese citizens and a few thousand or so Egyptians on dromedaries up the Nile to destroy a town in the Sudan by the name of Omdurman in a revenge attack for a previous British defeat.
Sven Lindqvist, a Swedish historian, has pointed out that the decisive battle of Omdurman was fought in the name of civilisation but nobody in Europe asked how it came about that 15,000 Sudanese were killed while the British lost only 48 men. Nor did anyone question why almost none of the Sudanese wounded survived.
In his book ‘Exterminate All the Brutes’ Lindqvist refers to some sad and shameful 19th-century newspaper accounts of British massacres of wounded Sudanese after the battle.
Maxim machine guns, lack of any medical care or indeed any victuals for prisoners plus sharp British bayonets may have been the weapons of choice, however the British resolve for HRH Queen Victoria and her then imperial empire, was almost certainly the prime motivation for this quite appalling pre- WW1 slaughter.
In that dated and historically inaccurate film The Great Escape, the German prison commandant advises the British Senior Officer that 50 of the escapers were shot while attempting to flee Nazi Europe and that their personal effects will be returned to the POW camp.
– How many of them were wounded?
– Here are the names of the dead.
– How many of them were wounded?
– I am advised by a higher authority that none were wounded.
On the 26th of January 1899 at the ‘battle’ of Omdurman’s conclusion, Winston Churchill wrote to his mother with the message that:
“Our victory was disgraced by the inhuman slaughter of the wounded and Lord Kitchener was responsible for this.”
Kitchener’s influence over his contemporaries remains undeniable. Throughout his life and well beyond it, even those who knew him best, such as his school friend Raymond ‘Conk’ Marker, invariably seasoned their affection with a curiously resonant awe:
“In this age of self-advertisement there was always a danger that Lord K. with his absolute contempt for anything of the kind, and his refusal to surround himself with people who attract attention, would not be appreciated at his real value but I think the country recognises him now.
The more I see of him the more devoted I get to him. He is always the same – never irritable – in spite of all his trials, and always making the best of things however much he may be interfered with. As Chamberlain said, “to praise him is almost an impertinence.”
Many of us Scots are of the opinion that the new Royal Mint £2 Lord Kitchener coin is unworthy of the memory of our dead ancestors and is quite shameful.
Worth refusing perhaps should you be given the opportunity.
On the Eve of Armistice Day and in the year before the 100th anniversary of that war to end all wars, Duncan Harley reviews Andrew Davidson’s new book which details the story of Fred Davidson, Andrew’s granddad, who against orders, took a camera to war.
As one raised on titles such as Memoirs of an Infantry Officer, Goodbye To All That and All Quiet On The Western Front, I was excited at the prospect of viewing the First World War through the lens of a serving soldier, albeit a Medical Officer enlisted in the Cameronians.
The promise of a journal-type narrative enriched with over 250 original photographs seemed promising indeed.
Sassoon, Graves and Remarque had covered the genre almost a century ago in traditional narrative style. Indeed Philip Toynbee once described Robert Graves’s Goodbye To All That as ‘One of the best of the First World War autobiographies’.
Sassoon, of course, paints a hauntingly- beautiful picture of his experiences in the trenches.
The narrator, George Sherston, is wounded as a bullet passes through a lung when he rashly sticks his head over the parapet during the Battle of Arras in 1917. George is sent home to convalesce, and in another rash moment, arranges to have lunch with the editor of the Unconservative Weekly. The reader is left to wonder, what could possibly go wrong?
As for Remarque, day-time television channels still show the 1930’s film adaptation of his classic novel to this day. Born on 22 June 1898, he was conscripted into the German army at 18 and spent just six weeks in the trenches before being wounded by shrapnel. He was repatriated to an army hospital in Germany where he spent the rest of the war.
His classic narrative remains in print and a film for TV re-make was made in 1979, starring Waltons actor Richard (John Boy) Thomas as Paul Baumer and Ernest Borgnine as Katczinsky; it remains an unsurpassed classic.
Fred’s War has an unromantic title, probably deliberate given the rather earthy nature of the subject matter. Written by Andrew Davidson and lavishly illustrated with Fred Davidson’s actual war photographs, the narrative traces the young Fred’s path to France and his eventual return to Britain after being wounded.
The brave Fred is a newly qualified doctor from St Cyrus. His war turns out to be a great adventure. A Cameronian and later an Old Contemptible, he took pictures of his surroundings using a camera smuggled to France in a medical bag.
The narrative is full of descriptive elements many of which may be based on conjecture or on fellow officers’ journal entries of the time. On Christmas Eve the following exchange seemingly takes place,
‘Tommy, Tommy why do you not come across?’
‘Cause we don’t trust you, and you hae bin four months shooting at us’
‘Hoch der Kaiser’
‘Fuck the Kaiser’
‘Gott strafe England.’
Fred’s life in the trenches is described in some detail despite the author revealing,
“He never talked about the wars he fought in and the friends he lost. But he did pass down the items that now sit in front of me: three photographic albums and a set of binoculars monogrammed FCD. He also left a framed collection of medals – now replaced by replicas, the originals having been lost to the family.”
Through the diaries and memoirs of Fred’s fellow officers we learn that, following Royal Army Medical Corp training, Fred is sent to join the Glasgow-based Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) at Maryhill Barracks. He quickly equips himself with an imported Buster Brown folding camera to augment his medical kit and begins taking portraits of fellow officers posed in the doorways and streets of Maryhill.
The images do indeed tell the story of a man despatched to war complete with a bellows camera
War breaks out after the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo by the Black Hand, and in August 1914 the battalion is stationed beside the Conde-Mons Canal with orders to hold the position against the German advance at all costs.
This is actually a relief to many of Fred’s fellow soldiers who had feared being sent to Ireland to suppress the Irish unrest and defeat the Ulster Volunteers.
There follows a predictable description of the grim reality of static trench warfare, complete with blood, suffering and lice. Constant shelling, freezing conditions and trenchfoot abound. Mud, excreta and rats feasting on corpses are all around.
In terms of photographic content, this is a really interesting book. The images do indeed tell the story of a man despatched to war complete with a bellows camera. The monotone shots provide the reader with a unique insight into the day-to-day reality of what it was like to be there on the battlefield in the early part of that European war almost one hundred years ago.
The description of officers shopping for shirts and underwear defines the book well.
“Most of their kit has gone missing, cast off in the frantic retreat. Outside the railway station, they see a captured German Hussar officer marched under guard, tracked by a hostile French crowd, baying like dogs. Still no-one knows what will happen next.”
The title page proclaims: Fred’s War – A Doctor in the Trenches, an apt summary perhaps. This is after all a description of static warfare at ground zero.
In terms of historical perspective, it is perhaps a dull book. In terms of revisionist history, it says little which is new. The narrative promises much but delivers little except anecdotal diary-based material.
The strength of this book is in its images. Most have been unpublished until now and many show the same scenes then and now, a nice visual touch, allowing the reader to understand the changes in landscapes and townscapes since The Great War.
If you are a fan of the images of war, then this may be for you. If more serious history is your forte, then check out your local library in the next few months to see what else is on offer.
Andrew Davidson Fred’s War Short Books £25 (hardback)
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I spent a day in Elgin this week researching the news from 1964 at the town’s local history resource centre, reports Duncan Harley. Quite a gem. Full of information from the present day to goodness knows when in the past. Run by enthusiastic and helpful staff, it is a Scottish national treasure!
Elgin is a grand town full of rich history. William Joyce, better known as Lord Haw Haw went to speak there in the 1930s, in an inspired effort to recruit for the Blackshirts.
The sensible folk of the town heckled him, but he chose to tell the assembled crowd of around seventeen that he appreciated their support and knew that they were for his cause. He was, of course, later hanged for treason despite being an Irish-American.
Elgin also has a ruined cathedral and some very fine statuary, including a monument on the hill just west of the town centre, comprising a Doric column topped by a statue which might just be mistaken for a second Nelson’s Column.
Nothing could be further from the truth however. It is in fact a monument to one George Gordon, who in 1794 raised the famous Gordon Highlanders.
The Gordon regiment joined an army under the command of General Moore in the Netherlands campaign, and fought at the Battle of Bergen in 1799 in which Gordon was severely wounded. He was presented with the Grand Cross of the Bath in 1820.
In 1964 there was, of course, the grand opening of the Forth Road Bridge by the Queen and the death of, thankfully, a very few unfortunate folk in the NE from typhoid, so in general life went on.
Many were surprised that after the event – that is the typhoid epidemic, not the opening of that road bridge – when Michael Noble MP and then Secretary of State for Scotland, chose to set aside funds to allow local authorities in Scotland to provide ‘hand washing facilities in public lavatories’.
Vivian Stanshall famously drew attention to the issue on an early 1970s John Peel Show when, in an episode of Rawlinson’s End, he wrote a script which read in part,
FLORIE: Perhaps you’d care to wash your hands?
OLD SCROTUM: Arr, no thank’ee ma’am, I already did that up against a tree afore I came in ‘ere.
Stanshall was found dead on 6 March 1995, after a fire broke out at his Muswell Hill flat. In 2001 Jeremy Pascall and Stephen Fry produced a documentary about him for BBC Radio Four.
Some typhoid facts –
A few weeks after the end of the typhoid epidemic, Elgin hosted the Annual Congress of the Royal Sanitary Association
During the typhoid epidemic, many NE caravan sites refused to take bookings from folk from Aberdeen
Grantown Town Council banned Aberdonians from the locality
In 1964 you could have purchased a nice black and white TV for less than £25
Corned beef can still be found on supermarket shelves throughout the NE
The Elgin Marbles have very little to do with Elgin
The politically incorrect nature of chicory based coffee substitute. By Duncan Harley.
An Aberdeenshire recruitment consultant was recently stunned when her job advert for reliable and hardworking applicants was rejected by the job centre as it could be offensive to unreliable and lazy people.
An Aberdeen T shirt retailer was also left stunned when during the last World Cup, police turned up to investigate his racist T-shirts which read “ABE” meaning “Anyone But England.”
Even Donald Trump of Trump International Golf Course, Aberdeen has been slated for apparently having said “I have a great relationship with the blacks.”
The Robertson’s Jam Golliwog badges of yesteryear, which were beloved by those of a certain age, are out; as are those politically incorrect Big Black Sambo money banks which of course many of our grandparents owned but which can now only be viewed in the backroom of the local antique shop, lest they cause offence or lead to litigation.
Political correctness marches on it seems. Folk can think what they want in private of course since that is the nature of democracy, but woe betide anyone who, like that Duke of Edinburgh man, crosses the boundary between the acceptable and the not quite so acceptable, unless you are royal of course.
The good prince who is aged 92 and balding, on meeting a Scot’s driving instructor gaffed ‘how on earth do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to get a license’ and equally famously while chatting to a class of British exchange students in Xian, in the Peoples Republic of China quipped ‘don’t stay here too long or you’ll go slanty eyed’.
Political correctness is here to stay however, so we might as well all get used to it. It sometimes causes us to lie silently instead of saying what we think but as an ongoing process it does bring about changes in culture which hopefully in the long term may enable us to look back and be amazed at the views of ourselves, our parents and our grandparents.
Removing the black Jelly Babies from the box and putting some real coloured folks into the cast of the Black and White Minstrel Show is one thing. However the actions of the manufactures of Camp Coffee go a few steps beyond and above on that score.
Dating back to around 1886, Camp Coffee is a thick black syrupy substance which was originally made in the good city of Glasgow by Paterson and Sons Ltd.
A “secret blend of sugar, water, coffee and chicory essence”, it came enclosed in a tall glass bottle with a label depicting a Gordon Highlander officer sitting kilted and sporraned atop a comfy cushion drinking a cup of Camp, while a turbanned Sikh servant stood obediently next to him, holding a silver tray with a bottle of Camp and a jug. The white military issue tent in the background was topped by a fluttering pennant emblazoned with the words ‘Ready Aye Ready’, while helpful instructions on the reverse urged Camp drinkers to ‘Stir one teaspoonful of Camp into each cupful of boiling water, then add cream and sugar to taste. Made with heated milk but not boiled, it is delicious’ read the blurb.
This was of course the world’s first instant coffee and the marketing was deeply manly and heroically suggestive of a sort of colonial luxury based on the right of the people of Britain to reap the good harvest of Victoria’s Empire!
Not much wrong with that perhaps. Well for a start, in those days the word Camp probably referred to the camp that the soldier on the label lived in as opposed to any other more recent meaning.
He was known as ‘Fighting Mac’ for his exploits at the battle of Omdurman
Also, in those days, the servant with the tray with his proud but of course respectful attitude towards his betters, was just what any Scottish officer serving abroad in the Gordon Highlanders would have expected given his rank and high position.
The officer in question was in fact based on a real life Gordon Highlander. Seemingly he was none other than Major General Sir Hector McDonald. The son of a humble crofter, Hector had worked his way up through the ranks of the Gordon regiment serving with distinction in the second Afghan War and in also in India.
He was known as ‘Fighting Mac’ for his exploits at the battle of Omdurman, where the Gordon’s had bravely deployed forty single-barrelled, water-cooled Maxim machine-guns, each capable of firing six hundred rounds a minute.
These were used to massacre an army of 60,000 lightly armed Sudanese Ansars, referred to as Dervishes in Gordon Highlander military speak, on a plain near Omdurman in the Sudan in what was to be a dry run for the set piece battles of the 1914-18 war.
The Gordons left the enemy wounded to die and amazingly refused them medical aid. A young war correspondent by the name of Winston Churchill reported that the Sudanese army resembled nothing so much as a “twelfth-century Crusader army armed with spears, swords, and with hundreds of banners embroiderd with Koranic texts.”
What has all that to do with coffee? Well, over the decades, the label on Camp Coffee has undergone some subtle but significant changes.
From the early days of the servile but proudly turbaned Sikh servant, the Camp Coffee label has morphed into a new and quite radical label portraying the Sikh servant and Major General Sir Hector McDonald sitting side by side enjoying a well deserved relaxed cuppa as equals.
Observers have however noted that on the way to this politically correct meeting of equals, there have been a few changes to the label over the years. In the 1980’s for example, the silver tray disappeared and the Sikh servant was left standing with his left arm by his side, while his right arm remained in its original under tray position. At least now he has been granted a well deserved seat.
No one really knows who the servant was, although no doubt he did exist. As for Major General Sir Hector McDonald, he was wounded in the second Boer War and later given command of the regiment’s troops in Ceylon where charges of homosexuality were brought against him.
Duncan Harley reflects on Life, the Universe and Everything. A sideways look at the world and its foibles.
The SS Politician – Whisky Galore
On the 4th of February 1941 during an Atlantic gale the SS Politician ran aground just off the Island of Eriskay in the Outer Hebrides.
The crew got ashore safely and the locals took them in and gave them shelter.
Now this was wartime and there was rationing of all sorts of items including eggs, butter and, somewhat crucially, whisky. When the folk of Eriskay learned from the crew of the “Polly” that the ship had 264,000 bottles of best highland malt in its hold, an unofficial salvage operation was launched.
Word soon spread all across the Hebrides and soon fishing boats were heading to fishing grounds all around the wreck during the hours of darkness to liberate the contents of the ship’s hold before the winter storms broke up the hull and destroyed the cargo forever. It was all quite innocent and seemingly legitimate.
But this was not the view of the local customs officer, one Charles McColl, who was incensed at the outright thievery that he saw going on. None of the whisky had paid a penny of duty and, as he railed against this loss to the public purse, McColl whipped up a furore and made the police act.
Villages were raided and crofts turned upside down. Bottles were hidden, secreted, or simply drunk in order to hide the evidence.
The rest is history.
The 1947 Compton Mackenzie novel Whisky Galore, which was made into an Ealing Comedy film in 1949, tells a good tale about the episode. In reality though, many islanders went to jail for up to six weeks for offences ranging from theft, to evasion of excise duty.
I can well understand the islander’s actions though. Faced with a gift from the sea of the water of life, known in the Gaelic as usquebaugh, what else were they to do?
In the course of that most severe of winters when the temperature plummeted to around minus 26 degrees
Many years ago when I lived in an Aberdeenshire village, I met in with a man by the name of Ronnie who lived in the croft house left to him by his mother who had been a seer. He had two brothers who were men of the cloth and he, Ronnie, had a special relationship with the water of life.
In the winter of 1981/82 I think it was, Ronnie, who was an affable sort of chap ran out of funds and took in some lodgers in order to keep body and spirit alive. In the course of that most severe of winters when the temperature plummeted to around minus 27 degrees in neighbouring Braemar, resulting in the deer foraging in the streets in desperation for sustenance, Ronnie was faced with a stark choice. Either heat the house or buy whisky.
Being a clever man he found a middle way. He burned the doors, floorboards and stairs for heating and using the income from his lodgers, bought whisky.
I drove past the scene today. The croft house is, somewhat surprisingly, still standing and looks just as it did all those years ago.
I have lost all contact with the man but wish him well.
Chelsea Tractors
One of the hazards of living in Aberdeenshire is the proliferation of those huge Chelsea Tractor vehicles which the oil rich buy and then attempt to use on the rural roads.
With names like Defender, Land Cruiser and Outlander they are often driven by diminutive men and women who only ever drive off road on the grass verge at my local Tesco’s car park.
Some of these monsters are so long and wide that the drivers really should sit a special driving test just to get to drive them round corners.
When met on a country road they often dominate the whole road and avoid the puddles lest they get mud on their vehicle of choice. We actually have a Humvee in my locality! I understand the owner lives in a flat in Inverurie and commutes to Dyce each day doing 55mph at a roaring 4mpg. The daily journey includes fuel stops every few miles and the occupants require a stepladder to get into the vehicle.
Don’t get me wrong though, these muscle cars have their place. I well remember a desert trip North of Cairo where a pal and I travelled off road for hours exploring Roman settlements and collecting Amphora. The North East of Scotland has both but most are well within reach of a well surfaced road.
This is a shot is of my local supermarket car park. The grass has been churned up by 4 X 4 enthusiasts who routinely park off road then proudly load shopping into the vehicles in the hope that they will somehow appear macho.
Seemingly the driver of a towel supply company has had quite enough. Taking direct citizen action he has used his van to block off the affected area.
I commend the drivers action and have photo shopped the van’s number plate to protect his/her identity.
The Butcher’s Arms
I find pubs fascinating.
Full of all sorts of humanity, they provide an insight into other folk’s lives which would be difficult to achieve by any other means.
You can walk in, do a bit of chat and walk right out again if you have met an axe murderer. Easy, no worries and a good kidney flush at the very least.
A decade or so ago, I frequented a pub in Glasgow populated by a quite varied spectrum including journalists, musicians, actors, students and Spanish Civil War veterans, plus a smattering of local manual labourers which completed the mix.
It all worked fairly well, at least up until 10pm on a Saturday night at which point it was best to make excuses and vacate the premises before the inevitable football rivalry came to the fore and the glasses began to fly.
I have often wondered in the intervening years why they sold wine by the pint. White Tornado it was called as I recall.
Glasgow also had a pub in Pollockshaws by the name of “The Office,” which was very handy indeed if you required an excuse for coming back late from work.
Then there was the Foundry Bar in Arbroath where I lived there for a while. A lovely place, by the seaside with an unheated open air pool and a sit in chipper where you had to use an old fashioned pre-metric penny to use the loo. Bingo on a Saturday night in the hall above Woolworth’s, boats in the harbour full of fish and a great big lighthouse flashing a few miles offshore just to keep you awake at night.
The town in those days had a mix of townsfolk, farm folk, fisher folk and Royal Marines. Each had their own public house and God help those who dared to mix and match. The local harbour still holds some dark secrets, I think.
The Foundry Bar however was different. Anyone could walk in providing they could sing, play a fiddle or simply enjoy the impromptu music. A brilliant place indeed!
No fights, no hassle and an old tea chest to sit on if you got there early enough.
There are some pubs, however, that I am not fond of. Not because they are bad pubs or difficult establishments though. Simply because of their names. I can cope quite happily with The Kintore Arms, The Black Bull, Filthy McNasties and even The Ploughman’s Lunch, as long as he has not eaten it already.
Sadly the Butcher’s Arms has never quite done it for me. Connotations of those Tesco’s horse burgers perhaps, or simply an uneasy relationship with raw, bloody, meat. I don’t really know for sure.
I often wonder if the management of this public house and the other 1200 similarly named establishments in the UK, would consider a name change to something like My Lovely Cow or even Aren’t Horses Great Ted? But that’s just a personal preference.
Full Metal Harry
We have heard a lot from the Royal Press correspondents in the last week or so about the third in line to the throne’s prowess with a machine gun, and I for one am certainly not about to get into a debate here except to state the obvious, which is of course that such guns are banned in the UK unless the powers that be can be convinced that citizens have a legitimate reason for possessing them.
The whole sorry tale somehow reminds me of an ex-soldier I saw interviewed a few years ago on a current affairs programme.
He was jobless, having left the army after several years of exemplary service. At his Jobcentre Plus interview he was asked about the skills he had learned during his time in the army.
“Well” he said – in a Geordie accent –
“I’m quite an ace with a machine gun and I can strip one down and reassemble it in the blink of an eye, so if you want someone killing, then I’m your man!”
Needless to say the Jobcentre staff struggled to find the ex squadie a job in his previous line of work.
So what would Harry need to do to get some target practice in, on the UK mainland?
He could join an Armed Response Unit I suppose, although self restraint and maturity are normally required to be taken on in such a role. Plus of course he would need to walk the beat as a uniformed bobby for a couple of years before even being considered for the job. Being sworn in, sworn at and spat upon on a typical Friday night down on Union Street may not be his scene though I suspect.
I am guessing that Royal Protection Duties would be also be out due to protocol issues.
He could of course provoke a riot. That would do it!
Far fetched?
the troops have returned home to discover that all is not well in Scotland
Not really, look at the Miners Strike, the 2011 London Riots which have been somewhat euphemistically called “England’s Summer of Disorder” and of course the numerous more recent examples in Eastern Europe and the Middle East where the ruling classes have fired upon the populace to make them see things their way.
In short, when the people are not happy with the governing classes, there may be trouble ahead.
The 31st of January is of course the anniversary of the Great Storms of 1953 which I wrote about last week. It’s also the date of the demise of the Young Pretender – Charles Edward Stuart – in Rome in 1788 after a protracted relationship with Brandy.
But who remembers the Battle of George Square which took place on the 31st January 1919?
Picture the scene if you will.
The “War to end all wars” has recently ended and the troops have returned home to discover that all is not well in Scotland. There are few jobs for the returning heroes and working conditions are poor with low wages and a long working week.
The workforce which had been in reserved occupations manufacturing the arms and tools for war are unhappy with the cuts in the standard working week due to the fact that the war has ended and there is no longer much demand in France for barbed wire, bullets and explosives.
Plus of course the Bolshevist revolution has taken place leading to the early demise of the Russian Royal Family by a firing squad.
So on Friday 31st January 1919, after a general strike by 40,000 workers in the industrial heartland of Scotland, there was a mass rally in Glasgow’s George Square. Now the aim of the rally was to hear the response of the UK government to the workers demands so the Lord Provost, Sir James Watson Stewart, and the Trades Council President, Mannie Shinwell, duly entered the City Chambers to have a wee natter.
Sadly things got out of control. As they talked, the police baton charged the assembled crowd. A magistrate tried to read the Riot Act but had the document taken from his hands and ripped up and things just got from bad to worse.
seasoned troops from south of the border were instructed to open fire if required to do so
The failure of the police to control the riot prompted the Coalition Government under one David Lloyd George to react. After Scottish Secretary Robert Munro described the riot as a “Bolshevist uprising” troops armed with machine guns, tanks and a howitzer arrived to occupy Glasgow’s streets.
The howitzer was positioned on the City Chambers steps facing the crowd, the local cattle market was transformed into a tank depot, machine guns were posted on the top of the North British Hotel, the Glasgow Stock Exchange and the General Post Office Buildings.
As is usual in such situations no local troops were used. The Scot’s battalions who had recently returned from France were confined in Maryhill Barracks while seasoned troops from south of the border were instructed to open fire if required to do so.
Amazingly, there was no major bloodshed as far as I am led to believe. There must have been broken heads and limbs via the initial police action but I can find no record of deaths.
The troops did not open fire although the tanks were deployed in Glasgow’s George Square. I can only assume that the government of the day decided that it would be a bad idea to provoke social change via bloodshed.
Mannie Shinwell and some other trade union activists were jailed for a bit and a 47 hour working week was agreed. Until the 1922 General Strike, things smouldered on of course, but that’s another story.
I have no information about what transpired in Aberdeen or Aberdeenshire on the 31st January 1919 and would ask folk to get in touch with any memories of that day. I did however find a reference to Aberdeen Trades Council discussing the issue and agreeing to mount a protest against the “continued imprisonment of the Clyde Strikers” and I have no doubt that given the politics of the time there must have been folk from the North East not only attending the demonstrations but serving with in the military in the area.
I sincerely hope that the third in line to the throne will not only read this but will have a wee look at the helicopter door gunner sequence in Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket.
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It’s been quite a while since Grumpy Jack made the digital front-page. In fact, I am struggling to decide whether number-nine is the correct nomenclature for this edition of the musings.
After Scottish Secretary Robert Munro described the riot as a Bolshevist uprising troops armed with machine guns, tanks and even a howitzer arrived to occupy Glasgow’s streets.
