“To create new army divisions, many battalions were “robbed” of their NCOs, the backbone of their units

The extreme heat, however, was not the only discomfort that officers and men had to bear. When Angus arrived, the attitude of his colleagues was somewhat relaxed, if not complacent. Under the temporary command of the amiable Scottish Borders-born Major Jim Cunningham, the battalion was proud of its achievements on the north-west frontier and in athletics. But as the heat intensified, so did life in the 93rd when the new second-in-command, Major Ian Stewart, appeared.

An indication of Stewart’s modesty is the failure of the regimental magazine to mention his arrival at Secunderabad. Reluctant in drawing attention to himself, he preferred to promote the battalion instead. Undoubtedly, the entrance of the formidable warrior had a profound effect on all ranks.

“It was as if,” explains David Wilson in his memoir, “an atomic explosion had hit us,” as the Second-inCommand put into motion his radical ideas on soldiering, that became the heart of what they did for the next four years.

Retort

The family of Ian Stewart, the 13th laird of Achnacone, were hill farmers and soldiers. Two ancestors were killed at Culloden, another in the Peninsular War, not to mention a naval antecedent, who was Nelson’s flag officer at Copenhagen.

As an 18-year-old platoon commander of 2nd Battalion, Stewart was reputedly the first British officer to land on French soil in 1914. After Stewart led a charge and fell, claymore in hand like his Jacobite ancestors, the sergeant leant over him, saying “poor kid,” only to receive the caustic retort that he had tripped over his sword.

After winning the Military Cross in 1915, a Bar two years later, and being mentioned in dispatches twice, Stewart was wounded but served later in the tank corps and fought at the battle of Cambrai. Writing in The Thin Red Line after Stewart’s death aged 91 on March 14 1987, Wilson admits that at first he was none too keen on his programme.

“We certainly looked with disfavour at the increasing tempo of training that was going to upset the somewhat slow and dignified practices that had been the custom of the army in India,” he says.

According to Stewart, the battalion may have looked smart and been good at sport, but the command structure was lacking. In a word, it was unfit for modern war. His credo was to concentrate on leadership, not only for officers but right down to the rank of lance corporal.

He believed that training was paramount and upheld the adage of Kutosov, the great Russian general from the Napoleonic period: train hard, fight easy.

During the late 1930s, higher command realised how unprepared the British Army was for war. Writing to Hector Greenfield in December 1939, Major General Edward Spears, liaison officer between British and French forces in both world wars, claimed that Britain had not been “very thorough in its preparation (for war) particularly as far as the army is concerned.”

The consequences of such neglect were felt keenly at grass roots level. To create new army divisions, many battalions were “robbed” of their NCOs, the backbone of their units, who were sent back to the UK to train new recruits. The 93rd suffered in this way.

Relief

One of Stewart’s innovations was to take groups of NCOs and private soldiers out of their companies for four to six weeks for specialised instruction on leadership. In India, with fewer officers in a battalion than the equivalent unit in the UK, NCOs often assumed command when the latter were on leave or attending courses.

Notwithstanding the losses when his best men were sent home, Stewart’s strategy created a core of men who became the powerhouse of the 93rd in Malaya. But he was a hard taskmaster and swept aside the customary “hot weather routine” in which the battalion, during the hot season, enjoyed a siesta indoors from 10am to 4pm. His reason was that in war, nobody stopped fighting because of the heat, cold or wet. As it happened, it wasn’t the sun that interrupted the training programme but the rain.

At Trimulgherry in May, everyone was pleased when the rains came. People sighed with relief as they saw the grass grow, the cattle fatten, and lemonade sales sink by 50%. Stewart was far from happy; his companies had been training seven miles from the barracks at Kompalli, and the ground there was awash.

Furthermore, his programme suffered from troops afflicted with dysentery and malaria relapses, a legacy from the Waziristan campaign. Apart from the monsoon rains and sickness, the battalion continued training until just before Christmas 1938 when the companies took a break to rehearse for the Proclamation Parade.

Stewart was known for his eagle eye. Nothing escaped the legendary Argyll commander’s attention and he expected the same from his officers. A platoon commander should know everything about his men, down to the condition of their health or footwear. This senior officer was strict with himself too: he was a teetotaller and exceptionally fit.

Although well over six feet tall he weighed only nine stone, and because of his extreme thinness, he was called, with irony, Busty. From the start, Angus hit it off with Stewart, otherwise my uncle would not have risen to responsibility with such speed.

Fanatical

If Angus was none too keen on what some staff and medical officers considered a fanatical approach to soldiering, he complied and thrived in this regime. He may have had reservations about Stewart’s disregard for taking a midday rest, refusal to indulge in a 6 o’clock chota peg (cocktail) and gimlet gaze for military detail but he kept them to himself.

One of my regrets is that when I rented a cottage in early 1975 in Appin at Portnacroish, whose graveyard now holds Stewart’s grave, I rubbed shoulders with the brigadier in the Duror Inn but had no idea of his significance in my uncle’s life. Being a teetotaller, he was a rare visitor to the hotel’s lounge bar, but I remember the hush that descended when this figure of authority entered the room.

Curiously, little mention is made in the regimental magazine of Stewart’s seismic change in routine apart from the May 1938 number, in which it reports that instructors from the Somerset Light Infantry, North Staffordshire Regiment and the Royal Tank Corps were staging courses for the benefit of officers and NCOs of the 93rd.

More tomorrow.

By Mary Gladstone