Centenary of the Battle of the Somme

John Nicolson Excerpts

Wednesday 29th June 2016 Commons Chamber

[John Nicolson (East Dunbartonshire) (SNP)]

Over the past decades the Battle of the Somme, and the first world war more generally, has passed from living memory to shared national history. Those who experienced at first- hand the horror of fighting in the trenches are no longer with us. Their children, who were brought up in the shadow of the war fully aware of the huge impact it had, are falling in number. For the majority of us now, the Battle of the Somme is something impersonal. We read about it in school textbooks, and those who perished on the battlefields of France are remembered perhaps too often as numbers, rather than as the people they were.

Everybody knows that nearly 20,000 British soldiers died on the first day of the battle, 1 July 1916, and that by the end of the battle, in November 1916, over 1 million men had either lost their lives or been injured. Few of us, however, can comprehend the huge sense of loss and devastation that engulfed the country at the time of the tragic battle. In every city, town and village, mothers, wives, daughters and sisters received news of their sons, husbands, fathers and brothers who had suffered or had died. No community was left unscathed by the battle.

At the time of going to war in 1914, the regular professional British Army was already Scots-heavy and it was supplemented by volunteers as the war got under way. There were 4.6 million Scots, comprising less than 10% of Britain’s pre-war population, yet they made up 13% of the volunteers in 1914 and 1915. A total of 147,609 Scots lost their lives in the four-year conflict between 1914 and 1918. Scotland’s soldiers accounted for a fifth of Britain’s war dead, although Scots were only a tenth of Britain’s population.

At the Battle of the Somme, the casualties, as a percentage of the British Army total, did not include as many Scots as at the Battle of Loos the year before, where one third of the casualty list served in Scottish regiments. However, the number of Scottish troops who took part was considerable. Three Scottish divisions took part in the battle and many other battalions were involved. Many of these battalions were volunteers known, as we have heard, as the Pals battalions. They were particularly affected by the battle. One of these was the 16th Royal Scots, which became known as McCrae’s battalion, after the charismatic Lieutenant-Colonel Sir George McCrae, who rallied the men of Edinburgh to enlist beside him. It is also known as the sporting battalion, after the whole of Heart of Midlothian football team joined up. Prior to enlisting, the Hearts team were taunted for continuing to play football rather than supporting the war effort, with a letter in the Edinburgh Evening News stating that they should adopt the nom de plume, the White Feathers of Midlothian. However, when the team committed themselves to the war, the same paper declared:

“There is only one football champion in Scotland, and its colours are maroon and khaki.”

They were followed by professionals from other football and sporting clubs and their supporters. McCrae’s battalion was one of many to go over the top on the first day of the Somme. Some of the battalion managed to fight through, capturing the strong point that became known as the Scots redoubt. Others made it to the village of Contalmaison—the deepest penetration of the German front lines that morning—but few of them lived to tell the tale. By the end of the day, the battalion had lost 12 officers and 573 soldiers. Three-quarters of the 16th Royal Scots were killed and wounded on 1 July. A distinguished conduct medal, three military crosses and seven military medals were awarded to the bravest of McCrae’s men.

That was not the only Scottish battalion to show remarkable bravery at the Somme. On the morning of the battle, David Laidlaw, who was commanding the 16th Highland Light Infantry, commented that his men were

“singing and whistling as if they were going to a football match instead of one of the most serious encounters in the world’s history.”

Despite losing 20 officers and 534 men on the first day, three platoons held out for eight days against ferocious German attacks after being isolated following an attack on a trench called the Frankfurt. There was no military worth in holding out for so long, but it said everything about their bravery and heroism that they did so.

One soldier to show heroism at the Somme was John Meikle, born in Kirkintilloch in my constituency of East Dunbartonshire. Like many others, he was so anxious to join up at the beginning of the war that he lied about his age and fought at the Somme aged just 17. Despite his extreme youth, he quickly rose up the ranks and survived the battle. Sadly, he was killed two years later at the second Battle of the Marne. To mark his death, a commemorative plaque in his honour will be laid in Kirkintilloch in two years’ time. John is thought to be one of the youngest-ever recipients of the Victoria Cross and is one of only 25 men under the age of 20 to receive the award. After his death, his family did not attend the official presentation of his Victoria Cross at Buckingham Palace. Why? They were unable to afford the associated expense of new clothes and accommodation in London. Instead, they chose to receive the decoration during a local parade in Glasgow.

Unfortunately, that was an all too familiar story for those who lost close family members or for those returning from the battlefield. While they were promised a land fit for heroes by the then Prime Minister David Lloyd George, the reality was very different. In many towns and villages, the male populations had been wiped out. The profound effects of mental and physical injury left many soldiers incapable of adapting back into society. Unemployment was rife, and half a million decent homes to be built by 1933 did not materialise.

My grandfather, John George Stant, was one of those who volunteered and served. His letters home to his mum in Scotstoun in Glasgow, written in immaculate copperplate, with a signed oath on each envelope, spell out his hopes and fears—absurd optimism giving way to grim despair. The job that was promised to him was not there in reality, so he decided not to return home. There was little choice but to join the army of occupation marching into Germany, where he was billeted with a kind family in Cologne. They left him a present under their Christmas tree that year, as he told his mum in a letter.

My grandpa survived only to be killed by a German bomb in the Glasgow shipyards 20 years later, but many did not get those extra 20 years. The chaplain at the Somme wrote a letter to the parents of Peter Logan of Milngavie, who was killed on 20 July 1916. He said:

“It is some help to bear your heavy loss to know that he was doing his heroic bit in this battle and that he had made his great sacrifice for a cause that stands for everything we hold dear.”

Tragically, despite such great heroism and sacrifice at the Somme and throughout the first world war, the devastation left behind, the failure to build a new Britain and the inability to build a lasting peace in Europe meant that the sacrifices were often in vain, and many who survived found themselves battling on the home front just 20 years later.

We must never forget the horrors of war or the personal stories that go with it. As many at the Somme and those left behind found out, the devastation of war far exceeded the glory. The Battle of the Somme will be forever etched into the national memory of villages, towns and cities throughout these islands and Europe, especially as we mark the battle’s centenary this week, but if we do just one thing we must remember this: it is easy to stand up in the House, make grand speeches and pay homage to those who died, but the best memorial to them would be if everyone here were to think very carefully before casting a vote for war and be absolutely certain that they have the best interests of our troops at heart and are protecting them and their lives.