My grandfather could do anything. Really, he could. He was a skilled tool and die maker, union shop steward and poet. He was a sharpshooter who could bring down a gazelle to feed his mates in North Africa and tease his granddaughter with a nonsense ditty like: "Susan, Muldoozin, Muckamuloozin" while drying her tears. And he loved to sing. Comin' Thro' the Rye. The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond. Scots Wha' Hae.
I have a tiny, perhaps 3X5 inch, 1892 hardbound edition of the Selected Poems of Robert Burns that he carried with him always. I treasure it.
And while I often think of him I am reminded that today was not a holiday established so that my husband and other Marines could recover from celebrating the Marine Corps November 10th birthday, but rather the day that the Armistice was signed ending the War to End All Wars. Before it became the generic "Veteran's Day," it was called Armistice Day. And for years, every November 11, at 11:00am, everyone would rise, face east and share a moment of silence.
My grandfather was born in Glasgow, Scotland in 1891. His father was a taylor from a family of fishermen up in Avoch on the Black Isle above Inverness. The family emigrated to Australia where, in Melbourne, his father died of "exhaustion" within a few years. Returning to Scotland with her three sons, his Mother set up housekeeping in Glasgow where she took in a boarder whom she eventually married.
The five of them moved to Chicago, but my grandfather never did get along with his step-father and ran away to join the Merchant Marines when he was 13. When the War to End All Wars broke out in 1914, he enlisted in the Black Watch.
A sharpshooter, he served as a sniper for Colonel Teacher (of the Teacher's Scotch family) in North Africa, Greece, Gallipoli and finally France.
On the left, with the pipe.
A few years before he died, my father gave me this copy of a letter that my Grandfather wrote to his younger brother. The younger brother had joined the US Navy and Granddad felt he might need his guidance.
What still gives me chills is the date of the letter.
Letter to Stewart P from Dave P
France, November 1st, 1918
Dear Brother,
Getting a letter from Ma with your address enclosed, I decided to drop you a few lines. I am glad you are liking the life all right. I think (in fact I am sure of it) that you have picked out the best outfit of the lot. The main thing is to keep straight and keep away from the joints on Avon St. (the Midway and other places of the same kind). I don’t know if the above places exist now but in my time they were the ruination of many a fine young lad.
I thought that your ship, the N.J. was out of commission (or is it a new N.J. you are on?)
I am now down at a base in one of the biggest and finest cities in France. I am in a convalescent depot. There are bags of Yanks here. I am having a pretty good time here. Plenty of baseball, boxing, football, basket-ball - hockey, ect.
I will be sent up the line again in a day or so I think. I am not the least bit anxious to go up there. It’s pure hell, nothing else. If your ship ever comes to Blighty (that is England) or France let me know, will you, and I will have a try for some special leave to enable me to visit you? When you get this note get out your old ditty box and let me know all about yourself, your rating ect. ect. and enclose a photo of yourself will you? You no doubt know by this time that I got spliced the last time I was on leave. The only thing I grumble about is that my honey-moon was cut short by the expiration of my leave. Please don’t think I am forward or snotty by starting my letter with a lecture on morality. I am not going to say anything more about it, but you know how it is in the service.
I will close now but before doing so I will give you my address. It is No. 315194 You know the name, “A” Company
13th (Scottish Horse) Battn.,
Black Watch, R.H.
B.E.F. France
I am thinking of having my “mug took” before I go up the line again. I’ll send you one if they are anything like the thing. As I have to get ready now to play in a foot-ball match - (it will be some match) I will close. Hoping to hear from you soon I remain,
Your loving brother,
Dave
They were all so young, concerned mostly with girls and games, knowing that war was hell but still ready to fight when called.
They still are.