A Rose By Any Other Name

Friendship of Salem leading the Tall Ships Rhode Island 2007 Parade of Sail under the Claiborne Pell Bridge in Newport, RI.

Some years back, 1999 to be precise, I was arranging for the delivery of our furniture, excess clothing and various and sundry other divers articles of householding from the warehouse where they were being stored, to our newly acquired residence. Our property had been shipped from our estate in Germany to the United States upon my retirement from the Air Force and subsequent entry into half-pay status.

As it were.

I had just completed the arrangements at Naval Station Newport and was heading to my car to head home. It was a fine day, not too hot, bright sunshine and a brisk zephyr coming off Narragansett Bay. It was a fine day to be upright on God's fine Earth and to be footloose and fancy free for a few days.

I had already started my post-Air Force career but had been allotted a certain number of days to arrange affairs as we prepared to settle in Little Rhody. (That certain number of days I learned later is what the civilian world calls "vacation." On active duty it is called "leave." I sometimes slip up and refer to non-weekend days away from work by the latter term. Much to the amusement of my civilian colleagues.)

As I lit a cigarette and gazed out upon the sparkling waters of the Bay I saw, upon those waters, coming out from beneath the Newport Pell Bridge a three masted sailing vessel. (I did smoke in those days, and yes Tuna I am still a non-smoker, thank you for asking.)

I went closer to the water's edge and stared in wonder at this fine ship, sailing up the Bay. I had never seen such a sight in all my days. Closer inspection revealed that it had what appeared to be gun ports along the side.

Marveling, I had to get in my automobile and return to the business at hand.

Later, back in our new home town, I noticed that tied up to the pier at the Yacht Museum was the very ship I had seen earlier in the day. I had indeed seen gun ports, not the painted on variety to scare off pirates, but the real thing. Behind which brooded 20 some odd cannon, ten to each broadside.

I later learned that she was a full-size reproduction of an 18th Century ship of the Royal Navy, His Britannic Majesty's frigate HMS Rose.

HMS Rose

HMS Rose was a 20-gun sixth-rate post ship of the Royal Navy, built in Hull, England in 1757. Her activities in suppressing smuggling in the colony of Rhode Island provoked the formation of what became the Continental Navy, precursor of the modern United States Navy. In the Seven Years' War, Rose was in service in the Channel and in the Caribbean. She was briefly considered for service as Captain James Cook's vessel on his first exploration of the Pacific, but was rejected as unable to stow the quantity of provisions required for the planned circumnavigation of the globe. Instead she was sent to the North American station, en route to which she encountered Cook's ultimate choice of vessel, HMS Endeavour on September 12, 1768 when the two ships anchored alongside each other at Funchal in the Madeira Islands. - Wikipedia

I saw the Rose a few more times over the next year or so, then lost all track of her. But I did a little research on her some time down the road.

In 1970 a replica of HMS Rose, designed by Phil Bolger, was built in Lunenberg, Nova Scotia for an estimated $330,000 contract to the West India Packet Company (John Millar). She was initially intended as a "dockside attraction," used for display and later sail training until 2001 when she was purchased by Fox Studios, sailed to Southern California and altered to resemble HMS Surprise for the Peter Weir movie Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, based on the books by Patrick O'Brian. The Surprise was also featured in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides as the ship of Hector Barbossa, the Providence.

She is currently owned by the San Diego Maritime Museum. The museum's volunteer crew is giving her an extensive refit. She returned to the Maritime Museum in March 2007 to complete preparation for sailing. - Wikipedia

In April of this year I saw my old friend once again, live and in person so to speak, that is, not on the big screen. Now she is the HMS Surprise.

HMS Surprise

She does look a little different these days, hull's a different color, different color stripe along the gun ports and a new name on her stern, but she's still a lovely ship.

To paraphrase the Bard - 

What's in a name? that which we call the Rose

By any other name would look as lovely;

Or as Gomer Pyle might say "Surprise, surprise, surprise!"

I leave you with this, in parting...

Time Stood Still

Apparently the final report of the National Transportation Safety Board on Lex's accident has been released.

While I don't have access to a link to the final, formal document this link has all the data used to build the final report.

A word of caution, if you have no desire to relive the events of that day, over two years ago, don't chase the link.

I did.

Once again, time stood still.

Just as it did on the 7th of March, 2012.

Lex is gone, nothing will change that.

I picked at an old wound.

It still hurts.

We won't ever forget you, Captain Carroll F. LeFon, Jr.

Rest in peace, Sir.

Photo courtesy of Brigid

"Tell me what you know; Tell me what you don’t know; Then tell me what you think"

Colin Powell said there are four rules for good intelligence:  “Tell me what you know. Tell me what you don’t know. Then tell me what you think. Always distinguish which is which.”

I wasn't an Intelligence Officer during my time in the service, and several of my squadron-mates might even question my intelligence in general, but I know what I know, what I don't, and the difference between the two.

As for Bowe Bergdahl, I'm not sure what to think.

I know he was a deserter.  So does the US Government.

"A Pentagon report clearly indicates that as early as 2010, the Department of Defense knew that Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl had, in fact, deserted his fellow soldiers by walking away from his post. Calling the proof “incontrovertible,” a Pentagon official detailed that Sgt. Bergdahl was a deserter."

I don't know what he was thinking when he walked off the base and into the arms of the Taliban.  At least not specifically.  

I know he's probably not your typical Soldier.  He was raised on a farm in Idaho without TV, but surrounded by thousands of books.  He was home-schooled, taught the works of religious thinkers like Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine.  He was a ballet dancer and sometime Buddhist.  At 20 he went to France and failed in his attempt to join the French Foreign Legion. Deploying to Afghanistan in 2009, he learned Dari, Arabic and Pashto- before being captured.  

I know that when he deserted, he left a note saying he had become disillusioned with the Army, didn't believe in our mission in Afghanistan, and was leaving to start a new life.

I don't know if a guy like that deserves to be rescued.  And because I can count, I know there are 7 Soldiers in the picture below.

From left, PFC Matthew Martinek, SSG Kurt Curtiss, PFC Morris Walker, SSG Clayton Bowen, 2LT Darryn Andrews, SSG Michael Murphy. 

I also know that 6 of them died trying to rescue the other.  I know the US believes in never leaving a man behind, but I don't think 6 lives are worth one deserter.  I also know we're not hearing anything about these men from the Administration, spin or otherwise.

What a second, maybe  I do know some specifics about what Bergdahl was thinking: 

"I am sorry for everything here," Bergdahl wrote to his parents in an email reported by Rolling Stone. "These people need help, yet what they get is the most conceited country in the world telling them that they are nothing and that they are stupid, that they have no idea how to live." He signed off with an ominous final message. "There are a few more boxes coming to you guys," he said, referring to his uniform and books, which he had already packed up and shipped off. 

Three days before his disappearance and capture, Bob Bergdahl, Bowe’s father, responded with these words: “OBEY YOUR CONSCIENCE!”

Considering all that, I know he's not worth the lives of those 6 men.  I admit that that's pretty subjective however, especially since the mission was a failure.  It failed because the Taliban had hidden him too well, our intelligence was too weak, or Bergdahl didn't want to be found.

I hope that once he's healthy, he comes out and says he knew immediately after being captured that he had made a horrible mistake, then it might take the sting out of their deaths.  It reminds me of that last scene in Saving Private Benjamin when Matt Damon's character questions whether or not he was worth the lives of that team sent to find him.  I don't know if anyone in Washington feels any sting about it.

You all probably know who that is.  He's the former, or soon-to-be former White House Press Secretary Jay Carney.

I know that when questioned about the precedent that is being set by releasing 5 Taliban Terrorists in exchange for Bergdahl, if this was negotiating with terrorists, he said the following:

“Well, I caution anyone against buying the propaganda of terrorists, first of all,” Carney shot back, pointing to a “long history and precedent” of the United States exchanging prisoners during armed conflicts.  

I did a little research into our long history and precedent of prisoner swaps.  Afghanistan?  He's the only one. Iraq?  None.  I know MSNBC tried to do some research on the subject to shore up Carney's statement, but could only come up with this completely irrelevant comment:  

"Prisoner exchanges for individual soldiers are not uncommon among heavy militarized U.S. allies."

The article then follows that up with another irrelevant point about the Israeli trade of 1000 Palestinian prisoners for one Israeli Soldier. Link here.  I think MSNBC is a lousy place to get news.

How about trading prisoners during Viet Nam?  None that I can find.  Here's a sobering list from that war, mainly because of its length, showing that nearly every POW came home only after the war had ended: Complete List 

Doug Hegdahl

Navy Sailor and American Hero Doug Hegdahl came home early, but only after being ordered to do so by his cell-mate and Senior Ranking Officer, LCDR Richard Stratton.  However, no prisoners were exchanged for his release.  

In fact, one has to go back to the Civil War to find the history and precedent that Jay Carney speaks of, with swaps being fairly common back then.  Since then?  Not on the American side of our wars.

But back to Sgt. Bergdahl.

I think that the Administration has muddled up our Foreign Policy once again, with Susan Rice, the National Security Advisor and other top officials saying:

“Sergeant Bergdahl wasn’t simply a hostage, he was an American prisoner of war captured on the battlefield.”  

If we claim that he's a POW captured on the Battlefield, how is that any different from what we've done to all those Taliban scum we have down in Gitmo?  We've captured them on the Battlefield, and if they're POWs, the Geneva Convention applies.  Whoops!  We've opened a very nasty Pandora's Box with that one.

What else do I know?  President Obama violated the law once again in not informing Congress about the exchange.  I think that Obama ignoring the notification provision required by the 2014 National Defense Authorization Act, isn't unexpected.  When he signed the act, he used a "Signing Statement" saying he thought the notification was potentially unconstitutional.

To be fair, Reagan and George W. Bush uses signing statements to challenge a large number of provisions.  What I don't know is if those men ever willifully violated those same laws.  But in 2007, Candidate Obama criticized Bush for his "clear abuse" of executive power.  The American Bar Association agreed, stating "The President's constitutional duty is to enforce laws he has signed into being unless and until they are held unconstitutional by the Supreme Court or a subordinate tribunal.  The Constitution is not what the President says it is" (emphasis is mine).

I think the President doesn't seem to care much about the Constitution however.

Lastly, I know that until Saturday when Bergdahl's release was announced, the Administration was being battered by the VA debacle, despite Shinseki resigning.  

Now?  Squirrel!  There's a new scandal, although that's probably not what the Administration thought would happen.  They probably thought they'd get a big win, looking good with their foreign policy and strong in defense circles, bringing one of our boys home.  They did, for about 30 seconds, until the facts started coming out.  It did get us talking about something else though, didn't it?  What VA scandal?  That was so last week!  

So I've told you what I know, what I don't, and what I think, but it might be a tall order to distinguish which is which.

What's the difference between the VA issue and Bergdahl's release?  In the first one, untold number of veterans died.  In the other?  Maybe just 6.  Both are bad, both reek of political incompetence, but only the latter seems like it's due to political expediency.

Their timing is impeccable.

Ch-Ch-Changes

You may have noticed a new blogger on the scene 'round these parts.

His name is Juvat, he used to be a Phantom Phlyer and then an Eagle Driver back in the day. He kept telling all these excellent snippets of flying stories in the comments but I wanted more.

So I coerced convinced him to start submitting those stories as full blown posts. Sunday was his first and it was a doozy. A number of you, the Readers (always with a capital "R"), seemed to like it. There will be more.

Now you might have noticed a change on the sidebar (over yonder on the right) with regards to "The Staff" graphic. It changed from this...

...to this...

As I like playing around with Microsoft Paint, that change was inevitable and fairly easy to implement. Now the blog header will also be changing sometime in the near future. It's not that I'm tired of the one I've got now, but I do like a change now and again.

Besides which, Juvat needs to be acknowledged up there as well.

Now the opening graphic to this post has some meaning, let me 'splain it to you.

Okay, at the top left is a nice painting of an F-4C flown by Robin Olds' rides. The F-4C is one of the aircraft I used to maintain, way back in the day (the other was the F-4D, the differences discernible only by the real cognoscenti).

The next aircraft was  Tuna's last ride on active duty, the S-3 Viking, the mighty War Hoover. When Tuna and his fellow crew dogs weren't hunting submarines they were, they were...

Umm...

Ah, probably in the Ready Room studying their NATOPS* manuals!

Last, but certainly not least is Juvat's last ride on active duty, the magnificent F-15 Eagle. Perhaps the best air superiority fighter on the planet in the hands of someone like Juvat. When Juvat was not flying, he was no doubt studying his Dash-1**, or shooting his watch.

Or, or...

Some other steely-eyed fighter pilot type stuff.

Note that all three of the bloggers in this space are retired military. Well, Tuna would argue that Juvat and I were in the Air Force, therefore not so military. We just smile and wave. Probably with our hands in our pockets as well. It's an Air Force thing, you wouldn't understand.

So why does the Master Sergeant take precedence in that graphic. Seems wrong or perhaps out of order doesn't it?

Well, it's my blog, innit?

If something sucks, blame me. Tuna and Juvat are innocent and pure as the driven snow.

Wait a minute, they're aviation types.

No way they're innocent. No way.

What's that?

Why yes, this whole post is a bit of a digression innit?

But I didn't want you all to get nervous at the ch-ch-changes occurring to the blog.

What? You were expecting David Bowie?

Um. No. Not today.









*NATOPS = Naval Air Training and Operating Procedures Standardization
*Dash-1 = 1F-15C-1, the Flight Manual for the F-15C. USAF version of the NATOPS.

The Great War

When I was born in 1953, the Korean War was still raging, World War Two had ended a scant 8 years before and World War One had ended just 35 years before.

When I was 8 years old, we commemorated the centennial of the attack on Fort Sumter in 1861.

Now I am 61 years old, we are about to commemorate the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand at Sarajevo. I'm finding it hard to get my head around the fact that World War One began 100 years ago this year.

Viewed in another way, someone who had been 22 in 1914 (and a soldier in the Great War) would have been 61 when I was born.

My grandfather was a veteran of World War One.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that World War One doesn't seem that long ago to me. In historical terms it was practically yesterday. But to many Americans nowadays, World War One is as real to them as the American Civil War. It was far too long ago to care about.

Yet the repercussions of WWI still echo to this day.

Both France and Great Britain had been weakened to the point where they felt that they could not stand against Hitler. Which led to World War II.

Which led to Eastern Europe falling under the crushing weight of Communism.

Which led to the Cold War.

Which led to China going Communist.

Which led to the Korean War.

Which led to Vietnam.

Ad infinitum.

The wars in the Middle East are a direct result of World War One.

Lines drawn on maps with no regard to the peoples who lived there.

Lines drawn by politicians with secret agendas and a "we know best" attitude.

The assassination of the heir presumptive to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire opened a Pandora's box of horrors which we have not seen the end of yet.

One hundred years later...

What have we learned?

So there I was….. * Getting Married.

Day 1 Going

I’d been flying the F-4 for about three years and had finally become “experienced” meaning I’ve accumulated at least 500 hours in the jet.  I’m also now a Flight Lead which means not only am I responsible for not killing myself and my backseater, but also not killing anyone in my flight.  I’ve led flights at Red Flag and other large scale exercises, so am at least marginally capable of handling a “real world mission”.

During this learning phase, I’d also met a lady (itself a story to be told at a later date) who I somehow convinced to marry me.

This story commences about a month before that momentous date.

I’ve just completed a sortie (AKA a flight, a mission).  In other words, a takeoff followed by an hour or so of Pure D excitement followed by a landing, followed by a debrief where every aspect of that hour or so was scoured in excruciating detail with absolutely no regard for offending ones sensibilities or hurting someone’s feelings.  AHH…Those were the days, but as Sarge says, I digress.  The sortie is over and I walk into our flight’s   (in this case a flight is a unit of command primarily used to give Fighter Pilots something to put into their Officer Performance Reports so they might get promoted) office and my Flight Commander calls me into his office.  Well, that’s not good usually.  I quickly review the sortie for anything done wrong that might have been observed from the ground, like accidentally going supersonic directly over the city while chasing a bad guy.  (Not that I had done that…Oh no never!)  Couldn’t think of anything, so figured I was going to get a non-flying related and, therefore, onerous chore.

 Walked into his office and was asked when the wedding was scheduled.  I told him and he said he had a good deal for me.  “Shields to Maximum!  Ready all phasers and photon torpedos!”  I am attentive to his every mannerism at this point.  Reagan had just taken over and actual "Good Deals" were still few and far between.  “I need you, a wingman and two backseaters to  pick up two jets at Hahn AB Germany and fly them back.  A day to get over there, a day to check out the jet and a day to get back.  You’ll be the flight lead, there will be two additional crews from Hahn, so it’ll be a 4 ship coming home.  All the Tankers, clearances, flight plans are being handled by the 2ADG (Second Air Delivery Group), so should be a piece of cake.  You leave day after tomorrow.”  (Hahn was transitioning from the F-4 to the F-16)

I walk out absolutely elated.  I get an all-expenses paid (plus per-diem) trip to Germany.  I’d never been there.  Get 10-15 hours more in the jet, which was still a significant percentage change in my total hours and get to lead a relatively challenging mission.  And I’ll still be home 3 weeks prior to the wedding.  Life is GOOD!

So, I call up my Fiancé and explain all this to her and she’s ok with it.  We’re not planning a large social wedding, close family and respective squadron members only.  (Fiancé is also a USAF Officer.) Most of the planning has already been accomplished. 

I get my backseater and the other crew together and discuss what we know about the mission so far and they’re as enthused as I am.  My backseater had just arrived from Hahn and started regaling us with stories of things to do and see.  I reminded him that we’d only be gone for 4 days and we’d be flying on two of them.  Nonetheless, we’re all enthused.

Departure day arrives, and our Airline Reservations are a feeder airline to Dulles, with a 6 hour layover then Dulles to Frankfurt.  We depart on time and arrive at Dulles, check the flight information boards and don’t see any gate information for our flight.  Well, it is a 6 hour layover.  Grab a lunch, wander around a bit.  Now it’s 2 hours to go.  Still no information on the board.  So I check with the Airline rep, hand her our tickets and see her face go white as a sheet.    “Shields to Maximum!  Ready all phasers and photon torpedos!”  I am attentive to her every mannerism at this point.  I ask “Is there a problem?”  She responds, “Well, the originating point of this flight has been changed.”  Thinking, she’s talking a gate change, I ask “To where?”   She responds “JFK!”  All sensors are on maximum alert now.  I ask her what our options are. She’s talking on the phone (this was the early 80s) to someone and then finally hands us our new tickets and tells us that we have 15 minutes to get to a different airline’s gate and board a flight for JFK.  I asked about our checked bags (flight equipment, helmets and survival gear don’t fit well in the overhead bin).  She said they had already left on a previous flight for Frankfurt and would be there on arrival.  OK, not optimum, but doable.  We OJ through the airport, make the flight, arrive at JFK, and check the flight information board for our Frankfurt flight.  Noting the departure time and the current time are nearly the same we OJ through the airport and down the jetway.  Bang on the closed but not yet locked door and the Flight Attendant opens it for us.  We hurry in, find our seats, strap in and the airplane pushes back.  I breathe a sigh of relief.

I have an aisle seat and across the aisle is the backseater from the other crew.  We have just taken off, and I’m starting to settle in to a book when I glance at him.  He’s white as a sheet.   “Shields to Maximum!  Ready all phasers and photon torpedos!”  I am attentive to his every mannerism at this point.  I ask him if there’s a problem.  He responds “My passport is in my checked bag. What am I going to do?”  I tell him to hold that thought while I ponder the situation over a resuscitating adult beverage.  Somewhere over the Atlantic, it comes to me.  I gather my little flock and ask if everyone has their orders and ID cards.  We all do.  I tell them, we’re going to present that paperwork on arrival en masse and see if that gets us through. Only if it doesn’t will we pull out our passports and then we’ll figure out what the other back seater’s options are.

We arrive at Frankfurt, walk up to the immigration counter en masse and I present our orders and ID cards.  Works like a champ!!!  We’re through.  Go to baggage claim and there are our A3 Bags with our gear.  The other WSO quickly retrieves his Passport and we clear customs.  (Side note, I happened to run into that WSO at TAC HQ very late in my career and we chuckled about this story.  Then he reached in the back pocket of his uniform and pulled out…his Passport.)

Wandering through the Frankfurt airport looking for the USO kiosk where we’re supposed to rendezvous with our ground transportation to take us to Hahn.  It’s about 3PM.  We find the airman and he leads us outside to a VW microbus, olive drab 1 each.  Load our gear and we’re off. 

VW Microbus, Olive Drab 1 each.

The Airman says it’s about a 2 hour drive.  Never been to Germany, so I opt to sit up front.  The others climb in the back and are soon asleep.   Our route takes us on the Autobahn for a while, and I’m kinda excited about that, but this is a VW microbus, olive drab 1 each, so the Airman stays in the far right lane.  We exit the Autobahn and are now going through picturesque German villages, speeding up and slowing down.  I start to notice that the Airman has suddenly started having difficulty shifting gears without grinding them.  We continue on.  As we decelerate into another village, he downshifts into second gear.  We leave that village and as he starts to accelerate, he can’t shift out of second gear.  The Airman says we’re only a few miles from Hahn, so he’ll just leave it there and continue on.  We limp along slowly easing towards our goal.  Now Hahn AB is in the hills above the Mosel River, so we are going up hill.  As we approach the gate, there is a vehicle at the gate asking the gate guard something.  The Airman is trying to gauge the approach, but fails and has to stop.  The VW microbus, Olive Drab 1 Each, stalls and won’t restart.  I look at the Airman and can see he’s sweating BBs.  The 4 of us, get out of the vehicle, walk around the back and begin to push the Airman and the VW microbus, Olive Drab, 1 Each, through the gate at Hahn AB Germany.

We have arrived.

Stay tuned for Day 2 Preflight.

*What’s the difference between a fairy tale and a war story?  A fairy tale starts with “Once upon a time” and a war story starts with “So there I was”.  

Uncle Robert

St Giles Cathedral, Edinburgh, Scotland

In the heart of Edinburgh stands St Giles' Cathedral, more properly termed the High Kirk of Edinburgh, which is the principal place of worship of the Church of Scotland (think  Presbyterian) in Edinburgh. Now within that cathedral is a memorial to the 5,963 men of the Royal Scots Fusiliers who lost their lives in World War I. My Great-Great Uncle Robert was one of those men.

The Memorial

We all knew about this relative while we were growing up. He was my paternal Grandmother's favorite uncle, my Dad was named for him and I suppose my son was also named for him as his middle name is my Dad's first name. Which of course was also my Great-Great Uncle's first name.

Of course, my brothers and I always wanted to know more about this favorite uncle of our beloved "Gram" (who had been born in Scotland and came to this country as a wee lass). All we ever heard was that he had been "in a Scottish regiment and had died in World War I." So it was left at that, we always had assumed that he had been killed somewhere on the Western Front.

Me, nosey parker that I am, always wanted to know more. Which regiment had he served in, which battles had he fought in, what sort of man was he? For many years I wondered.

Then in Belgium one fine day, I had the opportunity to tip a glass (or three) with some of the pipers of the Black Watch (a fine Scots regiment they are) and mentioned in passing my connections to Scotland. My Great-Great Uncle Robert was mentioned. One of the pipers, on learning that my Grandmother's family was from Aberdeenshire, supposed that my Great-Great Uncle was probably in the Gordon Highlanders, for that was one area in which that regiment recruited.

I found that interesting as my Mom's side of the family was (in part) a sept of Clan Gordon. So for many years I told people that Uncle Robert had been in a Highland regiment and had been killed in action on the Western Front in World War I. Seems that the only part I got right was that Uncle Robert had died in the First World War. The rest of the story was a long time coming.

I know a blogger in the United Kingdom, a former military chap like myself...

Well, not like myself really. The only real similarity is that we both were career types and both wore a uniform for over twenty years. Difference is, I was in the US Air Force, he was a Royal Marine. So I'm guessing his time in service was a lot more intense than my own. Well, in reality, I know his was a lot more intense. After all, I do read his blog. (Here, if'n ye be curious. Hhmm. not sure how NavyOne feels about me calling it "Ex-Bootneck's blog.")

At any rate, the Ex-Bootneck has contacts in that area of Scotland, so he looked into it for me. The real story is even more interesting than the one I had imagined!

Uncle Robert lived in Aberdeen, with his wife Jane who hailed from Glasgow. From the information I have, he was a member of the Territorial Force, specifically the 1/5th Battalion, Royal Scots Fusiliers.

Cap badge of the Royal Scots Fusiliers

Note on the Territorial Force (source):

Up to 1908, Britain had a tradition of organising local part-time military units known as the Militia and the Volunteers. These had often been created during times of national crisis but with the exception of service during the Boer War in South Africa (1899-1902) had generally remained at home as part-time, local defence, units. The 1908 army reforms carried out by Minister of War Richard Burdon Haldane, hotly debated and not universally agreed, essentially did away with these old units and replaced them with the Territorial Force. It remained a part-time form of soldiering (hence the nickname "Saturday Night Soldiers"), whose stated role was home defence. Men were not obliged to serve overseas, although they could agree to do so.

Note on the 1/5th Battalion terminology:

As Territorial Force battalions mobilised and went to war they then recruited their own replacement battalions thus the 5th Battalion marched off to war as the 1/5th while its replacement became the 2/5th Battalion. (Source)

Apparently when the war broke out in August of 1914, Uncle Robert's battalion had just departed for the annual summer camp. They were at once recalled to base. (Source) The following notes from Ex-Bootneck trace the movements of Uncle Robert's battalion up until the end of the war on 11 November 1918.

4th May 1914:  The 1/4th stationed at Kilmarnock, and the 1/5th stationed at Ayr.  Both Regiments were part of the South Scottish Brigade of the Lowland Division who then formed up and moved onto Stirling.

11th May 1915: Formation became the 155th Brigade of the 52nd Division. Embarked on troopships for the Mediterranean from Liverpool docks, arriving at Mudros Port on the Greek island of Lemnos on the 29th May 1915.

7th June 1915: Landed at Gallipoli and engaged in various actions with the enemy (Turkish Army). The heaviest actions being; The Battles of 'Gully Ravine'; 'Achi Baba Nullah'; 'Krithia Nullahs'; 'The evacuation of Helles'.

January 1916: Evacuated from Gallipoli to Egypt due to severe casualties from combat, disease, and severe weather conditions. Took over the defence of the Suez Canal, after which they became engaged in the Palestine Campaign. 'Battle of Dueidar'; 'Battle of Romani'.

1917: The First Battle of Gaza, The Second Battle of Gaza, The Third Battle of Gaza, Battle Wadi el Hesi, Battle of Burqa, Battle of El Maghar, The capture of Junction Station, The Battle of Nabi Samweil, The Battle of Jaffa.

April 1918: Embarked for France landing at Marseilles and engaged in various actions on the Western Front including; The Battle of Albert; The Battle of the Scarpe' The Battle of the Drocourt-Queant Line; The Battle of the Canal du Nord; The Final Advance in Artois.

11th November 1918: Ended the Great War at Jurbise north of Mons, France.

As noted above Uncle Robert's battalion fought in the Gallipoli Campaign, about which Wikipedia has this to say -

The Gallipoli Campaign, also known as the Dardanelles Campaign, the Battle of Gallipoli or the Battle of Çanakkale (Turkish: Çanakkale Savaşı), was a campaign of World War I that took place on the Gallipoli peninsula in the Ottoman Empire between 25 April 1915 and 9 January 1916. The peninsula forms the northern bank of the Dardanelles, a strait that provides a sea route to what was then the Russian Empire, one of the Allied powers during the war. Intending to secure it, Russia's allies Britain and France launched a naval attack followed by an amphibious landing on the peninsula with the eventual aim of capturing the Ottoman capital of Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul). The naval attack was repelled and, after eight months' fighting, with many casualties on both sides, the land campaign also failed and the invasion force was withdrawn to Egypt.

The campaign was one of the greatest Ottoman victories during the war and a major Allied failure. In Turkey, it is regarded as a defining moment in the nation's history: a final surge in the defence of the motherland as the Ottoman Empire crumbled. The struggle formed the basis for the Turkish War of Independence and the founding of the Republic of Turkey eight years later under Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, who first rose to prominence as a commander at Gallipoli. The campaign is often considered as marking the birth of national consciousness in Australia and New Zealand and the date of the landing, 25 April, is known as "Anzac Day". It remains the most significant commemoration of military casualties and veterans in those two countries, surpassing Remembrance Day (Armistice Day).

This film clip (apparently restored by Peter Jackson) gives us a brief look at Gallipoli.

After watching it, I wonder if any of those men were my uncle, or some of my uncle's buddies. You have to remember, history is made up of the deeds of men and women. Great and small. Though it's the small folk who usually pay the price.

Sir Winston Churchill's reputation was badly damaged by the Gallipoli Campaign (he was the major driver of that campaign). Disgraced politically, he left for the front. Where he took command of the 6th Battalion (New Army) of the Royal Scots Fusiliers from 25 December 1915 until 7 May 1916, near Ypres on the Western Front. My uncle's regiment, though a different battalion.

Sir Winston in the uniform of the Royal Scots Fusiliers

The Royal Scots Fusiliers regiment was expanded a great deal in the First World War. The Regiment eventually raised 19 Battalions; and was awarded 58 Battle Honours and 4 Victoria Crosses losing over 5,963 men during the course of the war.

Sadly my Uncle Robert did not go with his battalion to France and then on home to his wife in Aberdeen. He was killed in action (or perhaps died of wounds received) on the 24th of October 1917, at the age of 41. His death came shortly before the Third Battle of Gaza, which began on the 31st of October. (A very good source of information on the RSF and other WWI British Army units is here.)

Also, somewhat sadly, the Royal Scots Fusiliers no longer exist as a separate regiment in the British Army.

The Royal Highland Fusiliers were formed in 1959 by the amalgamation of two of the British Army’s  most distinguished Regiments. The Royal Scots Fusiliers, 21st of Foot and The Highland Light Infantry 71st/74th of Foot. (Source)

As of 2004, they are the The Royal Highland Fusiliers, 2nd Battalion, the Royal Regiment of Scotland. It's interesting to note, that one of my favorite Highland regiments, the Black Watch, is still known by that name but officially they are The Black Watch, 3rd Battalion The Royal Regiment of Scotland.

Wikipedia has an interesting article about the Royal Regiment of Scotland. Seems many soldiers were very unhappy with the politicians over this amalgamation. (What else is new?) Very controversial it was, especially given the loss of so many regimental traditions.

I learned, with no little amount of sadness, that Uncle Robert's final resting place is a long ways away from his native Scotland. He was laid to rest at the Deir El Belah War Cemetery, in Palestine.

The cemetery where Uncle Robert lies.

So the story of my Uncle Robert has been clarified. When I first came into possession of this knowledge, I thought how nice it would have been to share it with my Gram and my Dad.

Then it struck me...

They already know.

Slow march of the Royal Highland Fusiliers. This one's for you Uncle Robert, may you rest in peace.