Euro 2024 ~ A little bit further north ...

It was an early start for a drive further north than I have ever been before in Scotland, and it certainly did not disappoint. Growing up in this country, I was fortunate to have visited many remote little corners. All places have their own particular beauty, but until today I had not seen the best ever, a day of truly stunning and breathtaking scenery.

Typical for Scotland, the whole day was full of alternate weather seasons, but strangely each was perfect for whatever corner I turned on the road. Talking of roads, most of the drive was done on the narrowest of single track roads I have ever seen, which created a few interesting situations, adding to overall excitement and joy of the full day outing.

The photos are shown in the order they were taken, so you will get an idea of the "alternate weather seasons"  and the way this affected the light and cloud formations. 

Places visited today included ~ Poolewe, Corrieshalloch Gorge, Ullapool, Achiltibuie, Lochinver, Achmelvich Beach and Clachtoll Beach.

The single track road ....

...... and again

Euro 2024 ~ A Prisoner of War buried in the highlands ….

This morning at Lochbroom, which is about 50 miles north of Gairloch where I am currently located, I went to visit the grave of Arthur Ernest Thomas Clune.

It was back in January 2022, I received a request from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC), asking if I could help track down any living relatives of Arthur. The only information available from the CWGC archives, was that he served during WWII with the 4th Battalion Seaforth Highlanders, he died on May 7th 1945 (the day before V.E. Day, the official end of war in Europe) and was buried at Lochbroom Parish Churchyard. From the same CWGC archive, his parents were recorded as Arthur and Isabella Clune from Scotland.

The CWGC wanted to contact a living relative because it was felt that Arthur’s existing gravestone at Lochbroom, no longer provided an adequate commemoration for him, therefore they wanted to replace his private badly weathered gravestone with one provided by the commission.

Arthur's original gravestone below reads ~

Private 2822666, POW No. 15463

Stalag XX-B, Marienburg

Died on 7th May 1945 aged 25

In loving memory of Arthur Clune, only son of Mr & Mrs Clune, Ardcharnich served with the 4th Seaforth Highlanders 1939. Prisoner of War in Germany, died 7th May 1945 aged 25.

The original grave marker is still in place located just behind the new CWGC gravestone

There are many instances of mainly British WWI and WWII casualties who died and were buried in Britain, who have private family funded gravestones instead of one provided by the CWGC. In recent years many requests have been made by the CWGC to find relatives, when such private gravestones due to natural deterioration, no longer provide the deserved commemoration.

The task to find a living relative of Arthur required some analysis of the information available from the CWGC archives. His date of death and the fact that he was buried in Scotland strongly suggested to me that he probably died of war related injuries, illness or accident, either in Britain or was sent home from a foreign battlefront. Also due to the remote location of his grave, it was likely that he or his parents were local residents of the Lochbroom area. With those reasonable assumptions, I wrote off emails and posted messages on various Lochbroom and area social media and community web-sites.

It was not too long before I was getting some feedback, which indicated to me that there was strong and widespread interest being created in and around the rural Lochbroom Parish. It was obvious that calls were being made between neighbours and questions asked of the older folks in the community.

I received the following message from one local ~

“I believe his parents met when his father came to Lochbroom in WWI as part of the Canadian Army Forestry Unit. They lived in Canada until the father died, then mother and Arthur came to live at Ardcharnich (near Lochbroom), there was also a sister, Effie.”

~ This information was very useful, a Canadian connection and a sister named Effie, who may have later married, settled and had kids in the same area.

Using my available online military records research tools in Canada, I discovered that Arthur’s father was also named Arthur, but with the surname spelling of “Cloon” instead of “Clune”. In civilian life he was a cook, and on May 4th 1916 enlisted for WWI service at Sudbury, Ontario. He was assigned to the 227th Battalion, Canadian Expeditionary Force, with service number 1003108. His records indicate that he was born in Fort Frances, Ontario, on 6th September 1885.

After sailing to England during April 1917, with the 227th Battalion, he was absorbed into the Canadian 8th Reserve Battalion. Soon after as a Sergeant, Arthur Snr. was transferred to the Canadian Forestry Corps, No.138 Company, which was employed in the Lael Forest, Braemore, Scotland from July 1918 until March 1919, where he is likely to have met his future wife, Isabella McLean. From parish records kept at Lochbroom, I learned that Isabella McLean aged 25 of Ardcharnich, Lochbroom married Arthur Snr. on March 5th 1919, whose “usual” residence was quoted as Inverlael, Lochbroom.

Further research revealed that after WWI, on 22nd July 1919, the recently married Arthur and Isabella departed from Liverpool on board SS Scotian, bound for Quebec, Canada. Prior to the voyage they had been based at the Canadian Discharge Depot at Buxton, Derbyshire, England. Arthur was finally demobbed in Canada on 6th August 1919.

They had two children who were both born in Canada, Arthur Ernest Thomas in 1920, and Euphemia Rose in 1923. Arthur Snr. died of Hodgkins Disease on 26th July 1924 at Christie Street Hospital in Toronto aged 38, and was buried in Hamilton Cemetery, Ontario, in the soldier’s row No.83.

 

Now left with two children to raise on her own, Isabella decided to return home to Scotland in 1926, sailing on the Cameronia. The family arrived in Glasgow from New York on 22nd March, with a final destination of Ardcharnich, Lochbroom. Further maritime records indicate that in 1927, they also sailed on the Anchor Line ship “Athenia” from Montreal to Glasgow, arriving 21st August, it is not known why they briefly returned to Canada ~ It is of interest to note, the Athenia was the first British ship to be sunk by a German U-boat during WWII on Sunday September 3rd 1939, the actual day war was declared.

Arthur Clune is shown in back row fourth from right, he was known to be the tallest at the school

When WWII began young Arthur joined up for military service with his buddy Hector Munro, a native of Lochbroom. They were assigned to the 4th Battalion Seaforth Highlanders on the 12th June 1940. Both were later captured by the Germans at St Valery-en-Caux (France) during the time of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) retreat to and later from Dunkirk, and were imprisoned at Stalag XX-B in Poland.

Hector Munro was born on 8th December 1907 at Ardcharnich. His parents Kenneth Munro and Johan (née Fraser) were married on 14th March 1895 at Cedar Villa, Kenneth Street, Inverness. At the time of their marriage, they were both aged 26, Kenneth was a road contractor living at Ardcharnich and Johan worked as a domestic servant, her address being Pulteney Street, Ullapool. Hector had older siblings: Maggie, Alexander, Isabell, Murdo and Kenneth John. The 1911 census states that the family was living at Inverlael Hamlet, Ardcharnich, a house with four rooms. The same document listed Kenneth, the father, as a crofter and road maker employed by the County Council.

Due to severe ill health, during October 1943 while war was still raging, both Hector and Arthur were repatriated back to Britain via a neutral country (possibly Sweden or Switzerland). Hector now aged 37, died possibly of his existing illness in Derby on August 6th 1945. Arthur died on May 7th 1945 at Raigmore Hospital, Inverness of tuberculosis in the spine, from which he had been suffering for 18 months, with his sister Effie (Euphemia) at his side.

Like Arthur, Hector was also buried at Lochbroom Parish Church. Both their gravestones made reference to them being Prisoners of War in Germany.

Even during hostilities, the Geneva Convention has a provision for the repatriation of all Prisoners of War. It was therefore possible for the British and Germans to reach an agreement in line with this provision, but only for the seriously ill and disabled. For the majority of the 40000 British servicemen like Arthur and Hector who were taken prisoner during 1939 and 1940, the war was to be a very long and dispiriting experience. Negotiations conducted through the Red Cross, over the repatriation of seriously wounded men began in late 1940. They did not progress very far at this time, because there were far fewer Germans in this category than British. It was only after substantial numbers of Germans were taken prisoner during the Desert Campaign of 1942 that talks resumed to a serious level. The actual exchange of prisoners did not begin to take place until October 1943.

I found out that Arthur’s sister Euphemia qualified as a Nurse at Gray’s Hospital, Elgin in June 1944. She married Geoffrey James Jennings during 1946 in Inverness. Between 1948 and 1950, she was resident at 5 Heath Cottages, Little Heath, Potters Bar, near London. Then in the 1950s, the couple lived at North Mimms, Hertfordshire. Arthur’s mother Isabella died during the winter of 1976 aged 83, her death was registered in the district of Hatfield, Hertfordshire, where her daughter and husband lived.

Eventually, in response to my postings and much research, I eventually made contact with Arthur’s grand-niece Mandy Sullivan Hubbard, whose grandmother was Euphemia (Arthur’s sister). Through my contact with her, I was then able to put her in touch with the CWGC.

Over one year later during May 2023, the CWGC installed a commission gravestone on Arthur’s grave in the grounds of Lochbroom Parish Church. In a similar way to all CWGC graves of known casualties, there is space at the foot of the gravestone for a personal inscription from the family. The following are the words from Arthur’s family ~

A LIFE SACRIFICED

THROUGH SERVICE

SO THAT WARS MAY CEASE

After the effort put into this task, it was very nice and gratifying to visit Arthur’s grave today to see the CWGC gravestone in place. I have been involved similar tasks before for the CWGC, but today was the very first time I have been able to physically see and touch my results, which made it even more special. 

There are a total of seven war casualties in the cemetery at Lochbroom, who are under the care of the CWGC, two from WWI and the remainder from WWII. All of them with now the exception of Arthur Ernest Thomas Clune have a non-CWGC private gravestones.

Within the cemetery is one catastrophic reminder of a wars tremendous loss, Mr. & Mrs. John and Robina Mackenzie, of Letters, Lochbroom, lost three sons to WWII, who are all buried at this location ~

 

I decided to do some research into the MacKenzie family ....

John Mackenzie (photo below) aged 33, a skilled labourer of Rose Cottage, Letters, Lochbroom, married Robina Mackenzie, 29, a domestic servant also of Letters, on 26th March 1919 at The Free Church, Dingwall.

 

They had fours son ~

At the back left to right ~ Roderick and Finlay
 Front ~ Ian and Duncan

 

First to die was Ian ~

IAN MACKENZIE

Aircraftman 2nd Class 1361427

Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve

281 Squadron

Died on 8th November 1942 aged 21

 

No.281 Squadron was formed on 29th March 1942, at RAF Ouston as an air-sea rescue squadron equipped with Boulton Paul Defiants. They served all around the British coast in a large number of detachments. Ian died of Pulmonary Tuberculosis and Tuberculous Meningitis in Bangour Hospital, Broxburn. West Lothian.

 

Roderick ~

RODERICK MACKENZIE

Able Seaman R238782

HM Tug Samsonia

Died on 21st April 1943 aged 20

 

H.M. Tug Samsonia

Roderick died at the Royal Naval Hospital, Haslar, Portsmouth of Status Epilepticus.

 

Finlay ~

FINLAY MACKENZIE

Able Seaman, R238781

H.M. Rescue Tug Director

Died on 16th January 1945 aged 21

 

H.M. Rescue Tug Director

HM Tug Director was launched on 28th December 1943. On January 16th, 1945, the Director was towing a floating dock from the River Clyde round the north of Scotland to Invergordon. They ran into a storm in the Pentland Firth, during which a hawser snapped striking Finlay on the head, killing him instantly.

Lochbroom Parish Church CWGC documents for all seven casualties ~

Euro 2024 ~ You may be gone from my sight ……

…… but you will never gone from my memory.

 “That View”

One of the objectives of my month long “Euro 2024” excursion was to bring my parents ashes back home. When my dad Gordon died on January 14th 2005, my immediate thought was to take his ashes back to Scotland, for burial with his grandparent's at Kilmun Cemetery located in the grounds of the 19th century Kilmun Church, on the shore of the Holy Loch in the Cowal Peninsula, Argyllshire. In addition to my dad’s grandparents, Hugh Wright (3 June 1859 ~ 23 June 1953) and Janet Strath (8 November 1864 ~ 3 August 1937), the cemetery is also the final resting place of many other relatives, who lived in the area.

Through many stories told to me, it has always been obvious that my dad thoroughly adored his grandpa “Auld Hughie”. As a youngster, he spent many happy summers at his grandparents house “Gowan Brae” on the shore at Blairmore, Argyllshire. Over the years I heard many incredible anecdotes about Auld Hughie (or sometimes just “Grandpa Wright”), it appears that he was a rather interesting character, who was known by everyone on “the shore” and beyond. Often described as being “pickled in whisky”, he was always smartly dressed in a waistcoat, with his pocket watch on a chain and never without his pipe.

On those summer visits to Blairmore, Auld Hughie and my dad would often walk for miles together, whether it be up the high road to admire the views of Loch Long and the Firth of Clyde or a wander along the stoney beach in front of Gowan Brae or go over to the pier to watch the paddle steamers come and go, they were known to be constant companions. Regardless of where they went or what they got up too, their days out together would inevitably end in the same way, at the local village pub. Auld Hughie would buy my dad an ice cream cone (known in Scotland as a “Pokey Hat”), with a verbal reminder not to tell his grandmother that they stopped by the “local”. My dad would then sit happily outside with his Pokey Hat, waiting for Auld Hughie to have his “Wee Haulf”, then afterwards they both would stroll back to Gowan Brae for dinner.

Dad and Auld Hughie at Gowan Brae, Blairmore, Argyllshire

In line with my thoughts to bury my dad’s ashes with Auld Hughie, it was back in early 2005, I made a “Notice of Interment – Request” with the Argyll & Bute Council and obtained the Title Deeds for the lair. After this formality, all that would be required was for me to set a date to go over to Scotland, arrange to have the grave opened and complete the burial. I was never sure when I would actually go back to do this, but as it always does, time moved on and with that so did my thoughts. Without any available or willing input from my mother or sister Linda, my plans eventually evolved in a completely different direction.

I am finding as the years roll on and I get a little older, I increasingly spend more time thinking about and recalling memories from the past. They are of all stages of my life growing up in Scotland. Many of the really great memories are those of the frequent walks and adventures I did with my dad. The best of those occurred during our trips to the North West Highlands and the stunningly beautiful area surrounding the highland village of Gairloch. We spent great summers there camping, where the two of us would go off in any direction to explore heather covered hills, vast sandy beaches, climb rocks, follow endless rivers, walk along loch sides and then always at night sit on a rock at the beach, to watch the sun go down. They were truly magnificent times, he loved the highlands with its dramatic rugged landscapes, lochs, mountains and most of all its beautiful and bountiful silence.

Back in May 2022, I published a blog titled “The Sound of Silence” about our highland visits and in particular beautiful Loch Maree. It can be found by clicking on the image or the link below ~

https://southshoretidewatch.blogspot.com/2022/05/the-sound-of-silence.html

 

On February 20th 2021, just a couple months before her 91st birthday, my mother Bet died in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia. During the months before her expected death, I did with a hint of hesitancy broach the subject of “their” ashes. It quickly became apparent, that my mother had no thoughts or opinions about it, she seemed willing to leave all this to me.

On the wall of her apartment, there were a number of framed photographs I had taken years ago while on visits to the highlands, including one of Loch Maree, which is just a short distance north from Gairloch. Like my dad, my mother also loved the highlands and spoke often about our family visits there and in particular “That View” of beautiful Loch Maree. So that was it, I had decided it was to be Loch Maree ~ and at some point in the future, I would take their ashes back to Scotland, to forever make them part of the beautiful view, with its accompanying silence, a location they both adored so much.

Reflecting upon it now, my initial plans for my dad’s ashes back in early 2005, were created in haste, a feeling of self-imposed pressure that I had to get this done. I also suspect my underlying thoughts then and for sure in the years since have always been Loch Maree ~ a location, I am confident they would have given their full approval.

For a few years and certainly more intensely over the past seven months since I booked this Euro 2024 trip, I have thought much about this day at Loch Maree. Those thoughts could be described by all the following words ~ apprehension, trepidation, uneasiness, nervousness, anxiety, disquiet and so on. Today’s duty is one I would have preferred to have done in the company of my only sibling, my sister Linda, but that was not possible she died on October 15th, 2010 at the age of 56.

As I sat at the loch side this morning surrounded by incredible beauty and complete silence, I was again recalling many family memories from a long time ago. They ranged from when the four of us lived in East Kilbride, Scotland to our final years in Canada. I have so many clear, detailed and vivid recollections from the past, many of which I can still put accurate dates and locations to. With my eyes closed, I could focus even further on the sights, sounds, smells, thoughts, and feelings associated with each one ~ I hope they will always remain with me.

I never imagined or even considered that I would be the only one remaining, the sole custodian of all the memories and family history. At times it really hits me hard, a dreadful result of time moving along at an ever-increasing rate and making too many life changes as it goes along. As I think about my sister Linda, who was seven years older than me, our relationship seemed to always have challenges. We were not particularly close in a way I would like to have been. Part of that was the age difference and the fact she immigrated to Canada in 1974 when I was 13. In truth, I barely ever got to know her to the required level at any stage in our lives, I don't think the opportunities for that ever really surfaced.

For a long time after Linda died, I had a broad range of emotions about her passing. Due to the circumstances of her death, I found it difficult in any normal or expected way to mourn her loss, too many prohibiting feelings frequently got in the way. I never had the perfect backdrop or ideal circumstances to grieve in the way I believe you should when your only sibling dies. It was only after my mother passed in February 2021, that I felt the mourning process for Linda had begun. Now 14 years after her illness and death, I am aware more and more of the personal void that has been left. I missed her input and presence during some difficult times, when I had developing responsibilities towards my mother. In the present, I miss being able to share and compare memories of our early days in Scotland, of our grandparents, of the wonderful camping holidays and so much more. Being that we were the only two in the world who shared the same parents, our conversations now would be so meaningful, deep and would offer an enormous sense of value to both of us.

When I think back to when I was very young, time appeared static, people never noticeably aged, it took an extremely long time for a year to pass and for Christmas to come around. Back then, I had my grandparents, aunts and uncles, my friends had their parents. It was a time when strangely the summers seemed endless and school holidays lasted a lifetime. Due to my tender years, I failed to notice that the world was certainly evolving and transforming, while in my little world nothing changed at any rate that made any difference. But now far too many years later, Christmas seems to come around every few months, I have no close relatives who are older than me, the weeks pass so quickly they seem to be in a race with the months, I can rarely remember my age, because the number changes so often ~ it is certainly an interesting and thought-provoking chapter in one’s life, I wish it would just slow down a bit .... 

 

To my parents Gordon & Bet and my sister Linda ~

You may be gone from my sight but you will never gone from my memory ……………

 

Loch Maree this morning ~

A musical video I created back in 2005 as a tribute to my dad. It contains many photos of him throughout his life and of the Scottish Highlands. 

Click on the image or the link below ~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKhbVWwtzJc

Below is a link to a blog I wrote when my mother died in February, 2021 ~

https://southshoretidewatch.blogspot.com/2021/02/elizabeth-helen-wright-bet.html