Largie Castle, A Rifled Nest Day 51

Hector spoke often of his regimental colleagues and stressed that Angus was ‘one of his best, if not the best, of his younger officers

Behind the mounted units came the West Yorkshires, 4/19 Hyderabads, a mule transport company and the Nizam’s infantry. The National Anthem followed the swearing of allegiance. The Union Jack was lowered, the Royal Standard raised, a royal salute given, and a feu de joie was sounded: soldiers fired blank cartridges into the air.

Before offering three cheers to the King Emperor, the troops removed their head-dresses. The 93rd received the command, ‘doff your bonnets.’ Finally, the formation marched past, ‘with eyes right for the flag,’ back to the barracks.

In 1896, 30 years before Angus attended a Proclamation Parade, Winston Churchill, as a young army officer, noted that a procession of elephants also gave their salute. ‘At the end came a score of elephants drawing tandem-fashion gigantic cannon. It was then the custom for the elephants to salute as they marched past by raising their trunk and this they all did with exemplary precision,’ wrote the new officer of the 4th Hussars in My Early Life.

Traditional

Explaining why the custom was abolished, Churchill attributes it to ‘vulgar people tittering’ so that ‘the dignity of the elephants or their mahouts was wounded’. Soon afterwards, the elephants were discontinued and ‘clattering tractors’ were brought in ‘drawing far larger and more destructive guns.’ Needless to say, Churchill mourned the discontinuation of ‘the elephants and their salutations.’

Good performances were not always the norm. Conformity is a byword for the military, but the British Army thrived on traditional individualism, which grew through the independence of its regiments; each accrued a unique character of its own. However, this could cause trouble at a ceremonial.

On one occasion during the march past, the Argylls led the West Yorkshires whose pace was slower than their highland brethren. Unfortunately, the officer leading the Argylls failed to appreciate the discrepancy and the result was chaos.

Accommodating changing personnel was a prerequisite in the army. In early 1938 the turnover at Trimulgherry was rapid. In February a draft arrived from Stirling Castle depot with Company Sergeant Major (CSM)Munnoch, who would serve closely with Angus. A further draft of 100 officers and men from 1st Battalion followed.

With it came the new commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Hector Greenfield. His wife, Ivy (née Dering), was Angus’s second cousin. The couple were married on Armistice Day, 1918. Greenfield had not escaped the Great War unharmed receiving a wound to his left leg while serving in Salonika in 1916.

Despite fears that the limb might have to be amputated, it was saved, although in photographs of the period, he carries a walking stick and limped slightly for the rest of his life. In spite of this, he managed to pass all medical examinations and retired from the army in his early fifties, in 1946.

After they married, the Greenfields moved to Paris, living initially at the Ritz for a controlled price, where Hector became assistant to the military attache at the British Embassy. Little is known of Hector and Angus’s friendship but as his son James Greenfield suggests, they ‘were obviously good friends, which is a common occurrence between a commanding officer and his adjutant, despite the age difference.’ (Hector was 20 years older than Angus).

Connection

Hector spoke often of his regimental colleagues and stressed that Angus was ‘one of his best, if not the best, of his younger officers,’ claims James. Unfortunately, the two men enjoyed few occasions when they could meet socially while serving in India and later in Singapore, because their routines and dates of leave failed to coincide. In spite of these drawbacks, Angus became Hector’s adjutant, which helped cement their friendship.

They also had a family connection going back to the days when Angus was a boy. The Greenfield Visitors’ Book reveals that during the 1920s, Daisy often stayed with the couple when they lived in the south not far from Winchester College. Presumably my grandmother used her cousin’s as a base to visit her children at school.

In February, 1936 when the Greenfields were living in Wilton near Salisbury, Daisy stayed with them again, bringing with her Angus, who gave his address as Tidsworth. The rapport between the families is also confirmed by the existence of several photographs in the Greenfield album of John Ronald Moreton Macdonald, his children, and even Daisy’s nephews, Andrew and Martin Willan.

With arrivals came departures: Jim Cunningham headed home via North America. After several years’ service overseas, officers were entitled to an extensive period of leave. Many returned home via China, America or Canada. Some used the period as an opportunity for an extended visit to Australia or South Africa.

The more recent arrivals were permitted two months’ local leave, which allowed them time to visit the Central Provinces, Kashmir, Ceylon or the Dutch East Indies. On March 29, Kenny Muir, Angus’s wildfowling accomplice, took a nine-month privilege leave before returning home to join 1st Battalion.

His departure marked a complete change-over of officers since the time when the unit arrived in India in 1934. ‘There is now nobody with us in the battalion who came from Shanghai,’ wrote the editor of The Thin Red Line.

Change in routine

Coinciding with Muir’s farewell was the arrival of the hot season. ‘The weather began to tell on our tempers.’ That year it was unusually hot as temperatures soared above 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Fans or punkahs whirred in each public room of the barracks ‘at considerable danger to human life,’ The Thin Red Line reported.

With the heat came a change in routine: dinnertime was no longer at mid-day but at 6.30pm; all ranks adopted short-sleeved shirts and shorts; officers put away their kilts. In the mess, they wore a white jacket, a shirt with collar, trousers and a tartan silk cummerbund.

Another colonial totem, the Wolseley, chose this moment to bite the dust. Its resemblance to an English bobby’s helmet suggests that the army of the British Empire was one of policing rather than warfare. The army insisted on clinging to outmoded traditions, but one was the need to avoid sunstroke, so from dawn until 6pm it was mandatory to wear a helmet. After 6pm, forage caps or glengarries were allowed. While all ranks were permitted to walk out of barracks in white trousers and shirt, the kilt was worn on parade duty.

More tomorrow