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I was 10 years old when war broke out. I was living on the Isle of Bute, at Rothesay near the submarine base with my family. It was whilst I was at school that the first telegram arrived to say my father had been reported missing in France. He was in the 51st Highland Division of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. When the second telegram arrived I ran to our neighbours, as mother was working at the Victoria Hotel as a cook. However, I knew that this second telegram meant my father was dead so I ran to mother and blurted it out. As you can imagine she was devastated. We were all so upset at the thought of never seeing father again.
After this awful news I had to go out to work. I delivered milk before school with my brother Eddie and George delivered meat for the butcher. My father and his brother, my uncle Alec, were in the same regiment. When my father died my uncle was captured and held in one of the Stalag camps. Fortunately, my uncle returned after the war and was able to tell us how our father had died in Franleu, France. Even though I was very sad about losing my father I was extremely proud of him and what he had done. My mother made me and my sisters’ kilts from our father’s regimental kilt.
Forty years later I was thrilled to be able to visit my father’s grave at Franleu cemetery. However, this visit was tinged with sadness as the graves were in an awful state. Dismayed at this I wrote to the War Graves Commission and they took the complaint seriously cleaning up the graves and sending me photos. I will always be proud to know my father will not be forgotten as his name appears in the regiment’s commemoration book in Stirling Castle and St Mary’s Chapel at Edinburgh Castle.

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