11/11/11
Written by John MacphersonA few moments visual silence for Armistice Day.
Commando Memorial, Spean Bridge, Scotland
The Commando Memorial near where I was born. Spectacular hilltop location surrounded by steep and wild mountains, and close to Achnacarry, the base for the Commandos when they were undertaking their training. My Uncle Bill Millin told me many tales of his wartime exploits on the D Day Landings, and the training he did around Achnacarry as a young man, tales that no doubt fueled my exploits in those same mountains decades later.
As a small boy I knew exactly where to go rooting around to find the occasional live .303 round, some of which we ‘pulled’ the lead from to get at the propellant which gave a satisfying CRUMP sound when approached with a (lit) match, and several of which were incorporated in larger explosive devices my school chums and I concocted. One memorable device culminated in a large crater in a hillside which also housed a scheduled Ancient Monument. The authorities never ever tracked us down. Those were real freedoms, ones we take for granted, but for which a great price was paid, and is still being paid.
Commando Memorial, Spean Bridge, Scotland
So when when you have a few moments of quiet time today perhaps you can picture this monument and its wildly windswept but glorious surroundings, and imagine yourself standing there. Silently. Remembering.
Author — John Macpherson
John MacPherson was born and lives in the Scottish Highlands. He trained as a welder in the Glasgow shipyards, before completing an apprenticeship as a carpenter, and then qualified as a Social Worker in Disability Services. Along the way he has cooked on canal barges, trained as an Alpine Ski Leader & worked as an Instructor for Skiers with disabilities, been a canoe instructor, and tutor of night classes in carpentry, stained glass design and manufacture, and archery. He has travelled extensively on various continents, undertaking solo trips by bicycle, or motorcycle. He has had narrow escapes from an ambush by terrorists, been hit by lightning, caught in an erupting volcano, trapped in a mobile home by a tornado, kidnapped by a dog's hairdresser, rammed by a basking shark and was once bitten by a wild otter. He has combined all this with professional photography, which he has practised for over 35 years. He teaches photography and acts as a photography guide & tutor in the UK and abroad. His biggest challenge is keeping his 30 year old Land Rover 110 on the road. He loves telling and hearing stories.
Discussion (3 Comments)
Hi John,
three of my granparents served in ww2. Thanks for making the effort to share this. Important stuff.
Agreed, big thanks for this post, John. Made me reluctant to drop it down the page with my post about FOAM.
One of my grandfathers got a medal for taking out a machine gun in WWI. He refused the medal. He said he’d just panicked and ran. He said he couldn’t understand why, from a basic urge to move, if you run in one direction they’d give you a medal, while if you run in the other direction they’d have shot you in the back.
Thanks for your comments.
My own grandfather died of gangrene that developed after being wounded in WW1, an untimely death that fundamentally altered the path of our family in a way that still has repercussions today.
And my own dad served in WW2 and after he died I found some letters he’d sent home to his mother in which he describes being sent out into the desert to find water for his platoon and seeing a RAF plane crash and driving over to it and pulling the pilot free of the burning wreckage. Then finishes in a casual way by describing how he found water and everyone is fine and he’s fine and hope all is well at home.
We have no idea of just how much ‘the few’ offered, and sometimes sacrificed, for the many.