Alex Marshall
Quiet, modest man was one of Scotland’s last surviving D-day veterans
On 6 June, 2014, the 70th anniversary of D-day, Alex Marshall said that he and his fellow veterans were “marching into history.” Six years later, his death deprives Scotland of one of its last survivors of the Allied invasion of Nazi-held France.
Alex was a quiet, modest man who, like many of his generation, took decades to reach the stage where he was willing to discuss his war in any kind of detail.
Injured twice in the fighting, his experiences haunted him for years but left him with a determination to help his fellow veterans and commemorate their fallen comrades.
Alex was a long-serving chairman of Branch 34 of the Normandy Veterans Association from Fife, Lothian and the Borders and helped organise their trips back to France on the major anniversaries of D-day and the Battle of Normandy.
Born in Glasgow, Alex was called up in 1942 at the age of 18 and joined the Royal Armoured Corps. He was transferred to the 15/19th The King’s Royal Hussars and later drafted “against my will” into the 4th County of London Yeomanry as a replacement for a tank trooper who’d fallen ill.
Alex said he was moved to the different unit after falling out with a sergeant. The change meant he took part in a turning point in the Second World War, landing on Gold Beach on the Normandy coast on 6 June, 1944, the gunner in a Cromwell tank.
Seventy years later, Alex recalled that he’d been so seasick on the journey across to the French coast that he didn’t care whether he lived or died.
On the beach, he was confronted with the horrors of modern warfare. Bodies and body parts were strewn all over the sand.
“It took me years to shake off the possibility that we ran over some of our own wounded men,” said Alex. “That was something that ruined me for years and years afterwards.”
Seven days later, Alex was with a tank column that liberated the village of Villersbocage. What followed was one of the most infamous incidents of the Battle of Normandy.
When STV first interviewed Alex in 2004, before the 60th anniversary of D-day, he said he wouldn’t discuss what happened. The memory was too painful. At that time, he hadn’t even told his own son what had taken place.
Ten years later, at the time of the 70th anniversary, he agreed to tell his story so the Scottish public could understand what he and his fellow veterans had been through.
“When we entered the village people were on the streets cheering,” Alex recalled. “The Germans had left. We moved on to higher ground and everything seemed quiet for a spell, then all hell broke loose.
“The Tiger tanks came swarming in. They destroyed 30 armoured vehicles in 29 minutes. It was just a complete shambles.”
Alex’s tank was hit and caught fire. The driver and gunner were killed instantly.
“The radio operator and commander were badly stunned and unable to get themselves out. I still don’t know how I managed it but I got them out.
“Then we received a second hit. I staggered and fell off with my hair on fire. What happened after that is very hazy, but I was told that a French farmer brought me in to the field hospital in his cart, at great risk to himself. I’ve never forgotten his gesture.”
Alex recovered from his wounds and at his request was transferred back to his original unit. They fought their way through France, Belgium and the Netherlands, where he was wounded a second time near the German border.
Alex trained as a joiner after the war, lived in Edinburgh and retired as a director of a glazing company. He made countless annual trips to Normandy with other veterans until he was in his early 90s.
His commitment to remembrance was driven by hundreds of incidents that never left him. He talked of trying to comfort a severely wounded infantryman who died in front of him. His memories would wake him at night. He would walk around the house until he could go back to sleep.
His son Bill was surprised when he joined the Normandy Veterans Association because he had talked so little about the war. “It was like a closed door that he didn’t want to open,” he said. “He only told me about pulling the officer out of the burning tank 15 years ago.
“I think he felt that he had got into a position where he could do a lot of good for people. Some of the veterans and their families had fallen on hard times and he did a lot to get them what help was available. He used calm diplomacy and never wanted any thanks for it.”
On many occasions, Alex Marshall laid wreaths in the vast cemeteries in Normandy, and presided over ceremonies when the ashes of Scottish veterans were scattered on the beaches.
He died in hospital after a long illness on 30 June, 76 years after the event that shaped the rest of his life.
“Then we received a second hit. I staggered and fell off with my hair on fire. What happened after that is very hazy”