A new home for an old regiment

May 31 2008 by David Charters, Liverpool Daily Post

They were always proud in battle. Now a campaign has started to find a new museum for the Liverpool Scottish soldiers who gave so much to their city. David Charters reports

THEY should never be forgotten in this city because of what happened to them on that terrible day.

There must always be a place of quiet dignity, where we can remember and try to understand a little more about the men, who came here from the North with their customs and ambitions, and then died far away – believing in a better tomorrow for the ones who would come after them.

Now hear the distant breath of pipes and close your eyes and imagine, so that you can see them marching again, those men they called the Jocks.

They were proud of their city and they loved their country. Guided by a faith in both, they marched towards the Bellewaarde Ridge, outside the Belgian village of Hooge.

They were young, in the high sun of summer. We must always remember that. Most were very young, their lips more accustomed to Psalms than the kisses of girls or the taste of strong drink.

They weren’t showy types either, but decent fellows, many from white-collar jobs, who thought that they should do their bit.

Look at them – walking in a strange land, under their glengarries, in kilts of green tartan, the buttons on their khaki tunics tarnished, so that they would not glint in the keen light.

The old soldiers had given them that tip. Some carried a snifter-bottle, a knife, fork and spoon and even a shaving kit in the khaki aprons, which hung from their kilts.

On that morning of June 16, 1915, 23 officers and 519 men broke into a steady run, as they approached the German trenches. Shells exploded and then there was the rhythm of the machine-guns. You had to admit it, the Germans were good soldiers.

By the end, 188 of our chaps were dead or missing and 212 wounded, some grievously.

They were friends and comrades, who had held their ancestral identity, while offering themselves to their new city.

The memories and the ghosts of those men from the Liverpool Scottish battalion will later this summer be carried through the doorway of a brick building in Wavertree – in trunks, glass cabinets, cases, plastic bags and box-files.

For, in September, the Liverpool Scottish Museum must leave its premises. A new home has yet to be found for the archives, diaries, paintings, medals, uniforms, letters, photographs and all the other items.

Although the future is in doubt, we should never under-estimate the spirit, which has sustained the Liverpool Scottish and given it a special place in this city’s affections.

In 1859, amid fears that Napoleon III of France was planning an invasion, the Liverpool Scottish Rifle Volunteers (XIX Lancashire) was formed into Highland and Lowland companies with Queen Victoria’s approval.

Large numbers of Scots settled in Liverpool and Wirral through the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

As a broad generalisation, their fellow Celts from Ireland and Wales often prospered from humble beginnings, while the Scots spotted the potential of Merseyside, as a place to practise their skills in shipbuilding, engineering, medicine, publishing and banking.

However, it was not until the Boer War (1900) that the true history of the Liverpool Scottish as an infantry battalion began. The 8th (Scottish) Volunteer Battalion, the King’s Liverpool Regiment, had an annual subscription of 10 shillings (50p) and an entrance fee of £2. The first commanding officer was Colonel C Forbes Bell.

Headquarters were established in Fraser Street, Liverpool, and in 1908, on the establishment of the Territorial Force, it became the 10th (Scottish) Battalion of the King’s Regiment (Liverpool).

Many theatres of the old British Empire are stained by the blood of these men. Their names are engraved in the monuments dedicated to the dead of the two world wars.

For years to come, Hooge Day would be circled in black on diaries, the day when mothers and fathers lost their sons and daughters lost their sweethearts.

By the Armistice in 1918, the Liverpool Scottish had formed three battalions, all volunteers. About 10,000 men had served in them and 1,200 were killed with many more wounded.

In World War Two, Liverpool Scottish soldiers were engaged in various commando operations – most famously in the raid on Saint-Nazaire in occupied France (Operation Chariot) on March 28, 1942.

The idea was for HMS Cambeltown, a US destroyer, packed with explosives on delayed fuses to ram and demolish the dry-dock gates of the U-boat base, while the commandos rushed ashore from motor-launches. The principal purpose of blocking-in the German battleship Tirpitz was achieved.

Among the Liverpool Scottish was Captain Roy Donald, who had insisted that his men should wear kilts in training and active duty.

His DSO citation read: “With the utmost daring and rapidity, Captain Roy and his party scaled the walls of the pumping-station with ladders and grappling hooks, silenced the guns and annihilated the crews.”

He was captured and spent the rest of the war in Colditz Castle.

But, far from the sounds of gunfire, a small party has gathered in the museum to discuss its future. They are Major Ian Riley, the honorary secretary; Professor Donald Ritchie, chairman; and Phil Ross, researcher. Dennis Reeves, the curator, is staring at a Scottish soldier standing in a case, behind a glass front.

All around these men are portraits of great officers from earlier battles. A book is open listing the dead from one theatre of war.

There can be no doubt about their nationality – McArthur, McAteer, McCann, McCarrell, McCaskill, McColl, McConnan and so on.

“This museum is a unique feature of Liverpool life,” says Ian, a retired teacher, who is now doing an MA course in the Great War with Birmingham University.

“It has very detailed records, providing a good picture of military life in the Territorial reserve forces over the past 100 years. Because it’s a single battalion museum, we have great detail and can pinpoint details about grandfathers or great- grandfathers about 75% of the time.”

Donald, a retired professor in genetics at Liverpool University, adds his thoughts. “It is vital that it should continue as the way in which the battalion should be remembered. It the body, the corpus, of the battalion. What we are holding here is the history, the memory and the object of the battalion, which allows people to remember.”

The building has been used by army cadets and TA soldiers, as well as the museum. It is leased by the Reserve Forces’ and Cadets’ Association. The owner has raised the rent.

“We will have to leave by September 30,” says Ian.

“We have drawn up an options’ appraisal which the trustees have looked at,” says Donald.

“There are three options. One is to try and recreate the entire museum and research office somewhere else. If we failed to find somewhere else, we would try and continue the research office. The third is some sort of disposal policy to get rid of all the items.”

If a decision cannot be reached quickly, it seems likely that temporary storage space will be available for the research and archival records in the recruiting office of the 4th Lancashire Regiment, New Zealand House, Water Street – while the heavier items on display in the museum could be housed in the Army’s Altcar training barracks.

In the long term, however, people will want a permanent museum, and approaches are being made to local organisations in the hope that this can be done. The museum, which began in Fraser Street in 1956, moved to the old Score Lane barracks, Childwall, in 1967 and has been in Wavertree since 2000.

Given that the diaries were kept in appalling circumstances, the quality of the writing is wonderful. “The machine-gun fire was now one continuous rattle all along the front,” wrote one Great War soldier. “No Man’s Land was swept by their bullets. Hundreds of star-shells were being sent up. The pale, sickly moon had long since disappeared as if frightened to look down on the coming scene.

“This morning it started. Words can hardly describe the awfulness of the scene and the noise . . . The very mound on which we stood quivered as the mines blew up . . .”

“You learned by experience,” says Dennis, looking at the soldier in the cabinet. “The buttons on his tunic are tarnished so that they wouldn’t glint and make him a target.”

Some men were inexperienced and looked over the trenches to see the sun. Their memories should always have a home in a Liverpool Scottish Museum.

DENNIS REEVES recently published Special Service of a Hazardous Nature: The Story of Liverpool Scottish Involvement in Special Services (1939-1945). Those wishing to visit the museum before it closes in Wavertree should contact Dennis on 0151 645 5717.

davidcharters