The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)

Largie Castle, A Rifled Nest Day 41

“My uncle was no dunce and had an intellectu­al bent, but above all he sought action and adventure

- © 2017 Mary C Gladstone, all rights reserved, courtesy of the author and Firefallme­dia; available in hardcover and paperback online and from all bookseller­s.

For Angus, becoming an army officer in the Argylls was a natural progressio­n from his attendance at Winchester College and Magdalen. A regiment fosters a team spirit and imposes a strict system of hierarchy: officers were set apart from the men, much in the same way as a Highland laird lived close to, but apart from, his tenants and employees.

Regimental protocol was similar to public school ritual which often bewildered newcomers and served the purpose of putting them in their place. However, as they familiaris­ed themselves with the arcane practices, the new officers were able to feel part of the team.

There were no clear-cut rules as such, just rituals that had evolved over the years and the practice of these encouraged feelings of fellowship. Different regiments had different rituals and a Highland regiment’s traditions often fostered in its men a strong sense of Scottishne­ss. Within the impersonal institutio­n of the army, the regiment gave a man a home. Attitudes Neverthele­ss, officers were obliged to ‘share similar interests,’ to enjoy similar sports and pastimes, and even hold similar attitudes to life. In other words, each man had to fit in. Officers and other ranks occupied separate messes, but they came together as one and shared a common history.

Central to the British army is the concept of a family, engendered by the regiment. Although they had to accept a strict discipline, which amounted to silly practises for private soldiers like polishing and ironing bootlaces, they looked after each other.

Officers led by example, and they all fought for each other, and not for the army or the nation. Officers grew so close that when they talked of a regimental colleague they referred to him, not as a friend, mate or pal but a ‘brother.’

The 93rd, as they were referred to, was a regiment of the foot or an infantry unit, with foot-slogging and little glamour. Importantl­y, it depended upon a strong link to a geographic­al locality and history.

Angus’s choice of regiment reflected his connection with the county of Argyll but also the regiment was more relaxed than The Black Watch (his second choice). “The latter was stiff and formal,” explained David Gibbon, son of Aubrey who served with Angus in India. “If someone got divorced (early in the 20th Century) they had to leave the regiment.”

When all was said and done, The Black Watch was snobbish; it was considered beyond the pale for officers to speak with a Scottish accent, especially if it was Glaswegian.

On the other hand, Argylls officers had no objection to their colleagues speaking in a dialect. It was common for brothers in military families to enter different regiments. This practice created a leavening effect on The Black Watch so that in time it became less stuffy.

Unlike many of my uncle’s contempora­ries, his family had little continuous tradition with the regiment as his father never saw active service. Tradition David Wilson, who joined the 1st battalion from Sandhurst, was a third generation Argyll, his father, Lt-Col A.R.G. Wilson being the 1st battalion’s commanding officer and his grandfathe­r, Major General Sir Alexander Wilson, the colonel of the regiment.

Doubtless, a lack of family tradition within the regiment caused Angus to feel somewhat unsupporte­d and an outsider.

Angus received no warning against joining up, unlike Archibald Wavell, another Wykehamist, whose schoolmast­ers thought he was too bright to be a soldier.

My uncle was no dunce and had an intellectu­al bent, but above all he sought action and adventure. When he joined the Argylls, the British Army was in a parlous state.

At the end of the Great War, the number of officers and other ranks dropped dramatical­ly – from 3.5 million in 1918 to 370,000 in 1920.

Expenditur­e also fell. In peacetime, Britain (with its vast Empire) maintained its army as a means of keeping order. “Great Britain has never had a large army in time of peace. She has a small profession­al force which is little more than an imperial police reserve,” wrote Winston Churchill in January 1938.

Neverthele­ss, he warned that the military should be kept at full strength and be equipped with the latest “appliances and fullest supplies.”

By the early Thirties, threats from Germany and Japan were real but re-armament only began in 1935. It wasn’t until 1938 with a loan of £36 million (supplement­ing a budget of £87 million) that the army was ready for war.

The British Army reached the nadir of its fortunes during the inter-war years. The least glamorous of the armed forces, it lacked the tradition of the Royal Navy and the fresh appeal of the Royal Air Force.

After the armistice when the full horror of trench warfare was made known, the British public preferred to forget about the profession­al soldier and, as Kipling regretted, made “mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep.” However, the army was necessary as, under the Treaty of Versailles, the empire gained added responsibi­lities with territorie­s mandated in the Middle East (the former Ottoman empire) and the Rhineland. Expenditur­e India was its largest commitment, with 70,000 British troops required. Europe was little threat, until Hitler rose to power, but during the late 1920s and 1930s there was a risk that the Soviets might invade India via Afghanista­n.

After the First World War, a 10-year rule restricted defence spending. All three services planned their expenditur­e assuming that no war would break out for at least that time (the measure was maintained until 1932). As a result the army was accused of being static and ultra-conservati­ve. To be a soldier was dull and frustratin­g, and promotion was slow.

Neverthele­ss the army benefited from the newfound peace. Without worrying about an enemy, reforms and innovation­s could be made. Mechanisat­ion, including pioneering experiment­s with the tank, began in the early 1930s.

Demonstrat­ions on Salisbury Plain had 180 tanks moved by radio control in dense fog. As the horse was abandoned in field, furrow, and street, it disappeare­d also from the army; in its place arrived the armoured car and light tank although at first, little attempt was made to develop them, but, as motor transport increased, marching infantry became a feature of the past. More tomorrow

 ?? By Mary Gladstone ??
By Mary Gladstone

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