Dileas: A History of the 48th Highlanders of Canada 1929–1956

By Kim Beattie

This is the story of a typical Canadian fighting battalion at war. Its name was the 1st Battalion, 48th Highlanders of Canada. Its nickname was “The Glamour Boys”. In the opening chapters, Kim Beattie describes the Regiment’s parentage, and early background, from which springs the new war battalion. In the last he describes the happy ending. The meat is in the middle. Here he tells how men are brought together from many walks of life, looking on each other with intolerance and suspicion. He describes how their civilian thinking and ways are slowly shed as they are trained for their task in besieged Britain. How they are indoctrinated to the battlefield in the campaign in Sicily. How they are finally transformed in the crucible of Ortona into a confident fighting battalion of infantry. And finally, how they served their country at war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 48th Highlanders Trusts
• Release date: Nov 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463535950

Book preview

1

THE DECADE OF MILITIA ADVERSITY

"MEN and actions and the past had been knit and

kneaded until this proud, collective 48th

personality had emerged, to hold both the spirit

and substance of a great fighting regiment

against time of need."

AS the 48th Highlanders of Canada fell-in for the spring parades of 1929, it was a regiment growing old in service to its still young nation. It was a confident regiment, proud in its past, sure of its purpose, and content with its destiny. Its traditions and fighting history had become immovably imbedded in its spirit, in which many things lived, to form the vital inner strength of its colourful regimental character.

Its dead were there, living segments. So was a long roll of brave deeds, of the high gallantries and patient endurance of countless private soldiers, and of the selfless devotion of many section and platoon leaders, both officers and N.C.Os. Courageous and wise company commanders had left indelible marks of their passing, and the knowing hand of more than one mighty serjeant-major of the past was still plainly imprinted. Through nearly five decades, the resolute, the valourous, the great of all its ranks had been striking sparks to light the spirit, and their inspiration was still shining there. It was a magnificent heritage.

Most deep-cut of all the influences moulded fast into its military personality, were those of the men who had come to the command. Military axioms have a way of holding deep truth, and this one does: Lucky is the regiment which is lucky in its colonels. The 48th Highlanders had been lucky, a good fortune which was not to forsake them. That was important, for it is the colonels who are the inevitable markers of the regimental story. Each tenure of command in war or peace, not only has a colour and character of its own, but each also makes a distant and lasting impact. It is the C.O. who ruthlessly lops-off a dead custom, when the time comes, and the Old Man who engenders a new habit, or alters the regiment’s outlook or mood, or even its face. The very pace of the 48th Highlanders’ cavalcade down the years from 1891 had been set by the Commanding Officer. It was steadied or quickened or given a direction-change according to his wisdom. Internally, his authority was absolute, and his responsibility great.

It was the sum of all these influences on their spirit, and of all these impressions on the regimental character, and of all the deeds and misdeeds of the officers, N.C.Os. and men who had served, which was on parade in this bright, prospering and heedless spring of 1929. Men and actions and the past had been knit and kneaded until this proud, collective 48th personality had emerged, to hold both the spirit and substance of a great fighting regiment against time of need.

THE TEN YEARS BEGIN

THE 48th Highlanders had entered this second decade of peace since 1918, with a glorious reunion close behind which had summoned the far-spread 48th family to an historic muster. (See: History of the 48th Highlanders of Canada, 1891-1928.) It had been a consolidation of regimental spirit and tradition, a proud inspiring milepost in the life of the militia regiment. For its veterans, who had been stern and gay by turns, a gap of loneliness had been unforgettably filled, if only for a few days (November 9, 10, 11: 1928). It left with them a sense of satisfaction which would last through the rest of their civilian years, always somehow empty and meaningless to a one-time fighting soldier, an emptiness which is part of the penalty of fighting service. The reunion was the Regiment’s gift to them. They were now content; they knew the Regiment would go on, vibrant and strong.

The decade between 1918 and 1928 had been carefree Canadian years, heedlessly spent by a prosperous people in a false sense of security. The Roaring Twenties had been a wild and wacky period, with prohibition failing to achieve anything but a new lawlessness, and with the irresponsible nonsense of the times elevating bizarre characters to the limelight. Living in it was frankly fun, but to soldier seriously in the feckless and frivolous Jazz Age was as difficult as it was to find time to think about such mundane matters as the nation’s security.

To civilian Canada, all still seemed well in this spring of 1929. If there was to be a penalty for the heedless years, and another for defencelessness, neither was yet in sight. Even in this last of the improvident years few foresaw that the unreeling ticker-tape was about to become the funeral drapery of a dead, false era.

Despite such a comfortable and careless atmosphere surrounding them to encourage their own complacency, many 48th veterans were uneasy. They could not look forward to the next ten years with the prevailing civilian complacency that nothing would develop to demand another shedding of the Regiment’s blood. Soldiers are first of all realists; they possess a lot of hard common sense, and do not believe in being defenceless. The grip of blind pacifism on the democracies made them nervous. Those who had fought the Germans, felt the reckless extent of the disarmament process placed too much faith on an equal idealism in others.

There was good reason for disturbed Canadian military minds. Canada had disarmed so carelessly she had stripped herself almost naked. It had left both the Permanent Force and the Militia in a shocking state. The General Staff was hardly a nucleus, and the non-permanent force was at its lowest ebb in the country’s history. Its strength was largely on paper, except for units which had devoted and generous members and ex-members, such as those the 48th Highlanders of Canada always seemed to possess.

Canada had abandoned all her war industries. By 1924, her national expenditures for defence had reached a ridiculous level; her total annual allotment of funds to all three defence services—Navy, Army, Air—for all purposes, was less than $11 millions. That was a per capita expenditure of $1.46, against Britain’s $23.04 and the $6.51 per person in the United States. By this year (1929), her defence appropriations had not perceptibly increased despite a larger population and booming times. Each Canadian citizen in 1929 was paying such a pittance toward his country’s defence that his personal share about equalled 1 day’s pay and allowances for 1 lance-corporal.

What could volunteer citizen soldiers do? Even if they had forseen—which they did not—the rapid rise of a new type of German war lord, to fire their old Teuton enemy with another dream of world domination, the Canadian militiamen were helpless. Soldiers have but one role; their duty is to defend the nation, and to extricate it from the traps its political leaders always seem to find.

The democratic leaders, who placed faith in words and the pacific ideal, and not arms, soon found another trap, one which would be inescapable within ten years. It would be all the deeper and bloodier because they had lived in an illusion, and played make-believe so long they did not know how to stop, or how to face the hard reality of a brandished naked sword.

Even that taught nothing. The militiamen saw the threat closing in; they felt that words and more sacrifices could never stave-off the impending calamity, but the democratic leaders carried their mistake into the abyss; they still did not take forceful action, and continued to gabble even when staring aghast at the enormity of their blunder.

Before it came to pass, perhaps during the time of the Anschluss, and certainly not later than when Hitler dismembered Czechoslovakia, the 48th Highlanders of Canada knew they must march again on the central stage for the last frightful act—a world at war.

But in 1929, they still had ten years …

THE 48th HIGHLANDERS ON PARADE

THERE was no evidence of restricted militia funds when the 48th Highlanders marched out of University Avenue Armoury for their first public spring parade. Their pre-war scarlet had not been fully restored, but they had enough full dress for a company-sized ceremonial, and they were smart in fine serge khaki tunics with 48th buttons and falcon’s-head collar badge; a Gordon-diamond glengarry; a Davidson kilt, and two-tailed sporran; Gordon-pattern hose-tops and 8-button spats. The 48th Highlanders were still leading the Canadian Militia’s resistance to recurrent Staff proposals (A and Q Branch, of course) for a common uniform, and anonymous units in a nondescript army. They spoke with withering contempt of these attempts to sacrifice martial colour, a Highland soldier’s pride and traditional dress in exchange for the desk-soldier’s ease of procurement.

Lt.-Col. George H. McLaren, V.D., was in command. He had succeeded Lt.-Col. K. R. Marshall, C.M.G., D.S.O., V.D. (1924-28), the year before. Both were veterans of the 15th Battalion, C.E.F.

Colonel McLaren’s 2nd-in-Command was Major (Brevet Lt.-Col.) Ian (I.M.R.) Sinclair, D.S.O., M.C. His four Company Commanders were Major (Brevet Lt.-Col.) John (J.P.) Girvan, D.S.O., M.C., (A); Major George (G.M.) Alexander, M.C., V.D., (B.); Major Fred (F.W.) MacDonald, M.C., V.D., (C), and Capt. Ed (E.W.) Bickle, (D). All four had served with the 15th Battalion, C.E.F.; so had the Adjutant, Capt. Eric (E.W.) Haldenby, M.C., and the R.S.M., Fred Gledhill, D.C.M., appointed in 1928.

Their regimental and pipe bands were still under the two veterans, Capt. John Slatter, and Pipe-Major James Fraser. They also had a fine bugle band, led by Bugle Major W. K. Tews. The three bands were fully accoutred and equipped. In strength they were far above the official establishment.

The fine parade appearance of the 48th Highlanders was a tribute to the patriotism and generosity of the Regiment’s officers and ex-officers, a loyal aid which had become a regimental tradition, and which was an enduring thing. Throughout the long period of militia adversity, in which they were now caught, and which covered from 1920 until the outbreak of war in 1939, the present and past members of the Regiment co-operated with the successive commanders in adamant refusal to permit the 48th Highlanders to deteriorate. This was especially notable in the period of the economic disaster, now due to shake the world.

The Official Canadian Army Historian, Colonel C. P. Stacey, O.B.E., F.R.S.C., comments on the shrunken government funds for the Militia at this period by paying a deserved tribute to its personnel:

That the N.P.A.M. continued to exist as a basis for the land defence of Canada was due to the public spirit of its officers and men, to many of whom membership in the force meant an actual financial loss.

That was true of the vast majority of 48th Highlanders, including the private soldiers, and there was financial gain to none. All pay of all ranks of the Regiment was voluntarily assigned to the regimental fund for general maintenance. This continued even in the depths of the Depression, when such ordinary things as food, carfare and shoes were important things to many men. Active membership in the Regimen cost each officer a considerable sum annually, and there were also frequent financial calls on the serjeants.

Future men of the Regiment should not forget the devotion of the Highlanders of these days. Unappreciated, and even derided, but conscious that they were preserving something great, they gave time, money and a great loyalty throughout the full 20 years of their peace.

The Friday drill nights of the spring training season of 1929 were marked by an accelerated number of recruits (a trend soon altered). The annual regimental church parade on May 12th, traced a pattern which was now tradition: service in St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, followed by a march up Bay St., along Bloor and south on University Avenue, with a salute to their Honorary Lieutenant-Colonel in front of the Royal Canadian Military Institute.

General Sir Ian Hamilton, G.C.B., G.C.M.G., D.S.O., was still their Honorary Colonel, and Colonel D. M. Robertson, M.V.O., V.D., was Honorary Lieutenant-Colonel. The following year their tenures were extended to 5 years, and then through to 1940.

On this Sunday, their Chaplain, H/Major T. Crawford-Brown, was ill, and the service was taken by H/Capt. Stuart C. Parker. To the Highlanders’ deep regret, Major Crawford-Brown died this summer after a long illness. He had been Chaplain of the Regiment since 1907.

The Garrison Church Parade, held on the following Sunday, was by Toronto tradition the Militia day of the year. The Regiment looked its best, and all ranks were vyeing for place on the 100-man Guard of Honour for the Governor-General of Canada during the two days of the Military Tournament (May 22nd and 23rd). Major Fred Macdonald commanded the Guard, which had a varied role. They were in full dress (scarlet) for the Royal Salute to His Excellency, followed by a well-drilled Trooping the Colour, and then a March Past. The Highlanders’ detachment was a principal feature of the Tournament.

The autumn was beautiful, but uneventful for the Militia. There was no hint of the now historic stock market collapse until it came, and then the true proportions of the economic disaster it heralded were not at once discernable.

There were regimental changes before the year’s last parade under Colonel McLaren. Orders carried the names of two veteran officers: Lt.-Col. John Forbes Michie, V.D., a founding officer, had retired in 1926, and it was now recorded that he did so as a Colonel; and Lt.-Col. George T. Chisholm, V.D., Commanding the 2nd (Reserve) Battalion, who had led the 92nd Battalion to England in 1916, was recorded as Commandant of the Canadian Bisley Team. Two changes among veteran N.C.Os. were declared bombshells by the upheaved. Pte. Alex Smith replaced Sjt. Joe Bradshaw as Serjeant Tailor and regimental kilt maker, with Joe the host at a wake staged in a packed room above the Serjeants’ Mess. Also, C.S.M. Adam Goodfellow, D.C.M. (Festubert) lost his company and was attached to the staff for duty, with rumbling protests: They’ve retired me, goddamit! I can still outmarch half these young squirts! Sjt. Frank (F.H.C.) North, a sympathetic, but younger friend, was promoted C.S.M. in his place.

Capt. (Brevet Major) Eric Haldenby, now relinquished the Adjutancy to Lt. Bill (W.W.) Southam, who was promoted Captain, and given tall Lt. Jim (J.S.P.) Armstrong as Assistant. New officers to join in 1929 were: Lieutenants Bill (W.W.G.) Darling; Gwynn (G.H.) Osier; A.W.S. Smith; Lyman (L.M.) Crawford-Brown; and Don (D.S.F.) Cameron. (Postscript to 1929: Adolf Hitler was already der Fuehrer, surrounded by men like Goering, Hess, Himmler and Rosenberg, with Roehm’s S.S. the terrorizing core of his private army. By this year, his National Socialists — the Nazis — were viewed with grave alarm by German liberals. Germany’s political leaders and the General Staff were intently studying the barbaric thesis of Mein Kampf—man is a fighting animal.)

THE MILITIA, AND THE ECONOMIC COLLAPSE

LONG before spring it was dismayingly certain an economic collapse of far-reaching consequence faced the civilized world. It was already changing the pattern of life for millions, altering viewpoints, contorting old political concepts, and giving birth to new social trends. Nor could a militia regiment escape serious reactions to this distressing period in human existence. The Militia was hit hard.

An atmosphere of personal worry, uncertainty and anxiety marked all ranks as Major Ian Sinclair, D.S.O., M.C., V.D., came to the command of the 48th Highlanders in April, 1930.

As a subaltern, the Highlanders’ new C.O. had proceeded overseas in 1914 with the 5th Royal Highlanders (Black Watch), which became the 13th Battalion, C.E.F., brigaded with the 15th Battalion. He had a distinguished war career with the Black Watch, commanding the 13th Battalion at the Canal du Nord in 1918. He had been an active officer of the 48th Highlanders since the postwar reorganization.

Major John Girvan was appointed 2nd-in-Command, but there were few other changes in posts. New officers to join were 2nd Lieutenants Goeff (G.L.) Boone and Ian (I.S.) Johnston (destined to reach great distinction as a wartime commander of the Regiment).

The dark days of the Depression were now being suffered in earnest, with many men—perhaps even the majority—either out of work or at least harried by a feeling of terrible insecurity as they faced the winter. With so many breadwinners without employment, the Regimental Welfare Committee of the 48th Highlanders Chapter I.O.D.E., which had done such fine work among 48th families during the war, was revived. The gallant ladies faced the situation as a serious challenge, which it was. Mrs. Aleck Sinclair was the Convenor, and under her tireless inspiration the destitute families of the Regiment had special attention. There was a personal touch which was invaluable; the work was organized under the wives of officers of each company and was carried on as a regimental family matter. This continued until such welfare work came under the organized social services, and even then the 48th Highlanders had a special section, with the ladies of the 48th Chapter still looking after their own.

A new public attitude toward officers and men of the Militia began to be noted this year. It was not the usual apathy; the 48th Highlanders were long familiar with that. Friends now twitted members of the Regiment with a barbed tongue; the criticism had begun by those infected with the blind pacifism which was mounting in all democratic countries. Highlanders heard the words war-monger and jingoist, with a surprising number of Canadians pointing an accusing finger; a militiaman had become something which the pacifist self-righteously condemned.

The instant reaction of the 48th Highlanders was not to protest, but to stiffen in their sense of responsibility as citizens of Canada. They soon discovered a pacifist was an opinion-tyrant, deaf to all reasoning, especially to the argument that universal peace was impractical while the world was still populated by the human race.

The criticism of the Militia did not die easily. It continued until it dissolved without apology in the chill reality of war.

The pacifist propaganda in Canada and the United States was lavishly backed by a huge fund. It was so extensive and organized it could not be overlooked, but it was not recognized for what it was: an unsolicited, but powerful ally to militarist Germany. It insidiously and persistently undermined the will of the democracies to fight, or even to re-arm. It forced all such units as the 48th Highlanders to live and serve against a difficult background of public opinion. Because the 48th Highlanders were amazingly effective (as we shall see) in combatting its deleterious affects on themselves, and also on the minds of the Toronto public, a unique tribute is due which has been unnoted. The Regiment justified its existence in a striking way during an almost fatal era.

Hitler, and his master of psychological warfare, Goebbels, did not inspire, or financially back the pacifist propaganda now flooding the democracies; Nazism only had to cash-in on it. Before any democratic government could plan a way out of its Pit of Depression, the peace organizations were at work, spreading the gospel of peace-at-any-price. The time was opportune; the depression-stricken nations could not afford armaments. The harried and destitute were ripe for a doctrine of even blind pacifism, which risked national safety and the way of democratic life itself. The craven were vociferous fellow-travellers of the sincere, and few politicians who saw the truth were statesmanlike enough to refuse to ride with public opinion.

In Canada, the most effective phase of the propaganda was blatant. That was a deluge of full-page picture supplements in the daily newspapers to depict the horrors of war. They portrayed the bestiality of war, but forgot to warn of the Beast who would launch war. These graphic, if gruesome illustrations were made available at bargain rates to the newspapers in all democratic countries. Their influence on the public mind was powerful; their very frightfulness caused such revulsion they contorted reason. A series of pacifist films was also produced; the films cost much more but were far less damaging to the public mind than the horror photographs. (This historian found satisfaction in exposing the films as biased propaganda in a series of articles in 1930, which also protested disarmament.)

The peace propaganda in the democracies was the most insidiously valuable ally Hitler possessed as he advanced step by step, challenge by contemptuous challenge, until ready to risk all-out war. (Postscript to 1930: The economic blizzard swept Germany and tides of hatred were turbulent as Hitler savagely agitated for a violent German nationalism. The uneasy victors in the Great War made concessions to Germany much earlier than the treaty dates; these included: reduced reparations, freeing of the Reichsbank and German railways from Allied control, and agreement to evacuate the Rhineland. They were called peace measures. They were the start of the fatal appeasement policy.)

The spring of 1931 brought no relief to the economic strain for men of the Regiment, but adjustments in living were being made, and some of the first shock had worn off.

The 48th Highlanders still remained a great shooting regiment, and some of their challenge trophies were now very old. Their permanent hut at Long Branch ranges was a rendezvous during the summer week-ends for many Highlanders. Best Shot badges for 1931 went to Sjt. Joe Buick, H. Q. Company; Sjt. Harold Ashling, A Company; Cpl. D. Harcus, B Company; Pte. H. H. Bowen, C Company, and Sjt. A. B. Young, D Company. There was a regimental innovation in this dark and despondent economic year: the N.C.Os. and men were allotted regimental numbers. R. S. M. Fred Gledhill was No. 1, and the last on the regimental roll was No. 789, which went to Pte. Hugh MacDonald of C Company.

The Regiment was now so mature that a steady stream of Highlanders’ names was appearing in Orders for the award of the Long Service Medal (20 years of undetected crime), or the Auxiliary Forces Officers’ Decoration. In this year, both awards went to Major John Girvan. Capt. (Brevet Major) J. H. Chipman, M.C., received the Officers’ Decoration, and the Long Service Medal was awarded to Lt.-Col. Sinclair; C.S.Ms. Colin Barron, V.C., Frank North and Frank Jamieson and C.Q.M.S. F.M. Calvert. A famous 48th personality, Drum Major Charlie Kirkaldy retired in 1931, after years of service.

That was a worried and unhappy autumn everywhere. The fall parades of the Regiment disclosed a shrunken strength, for the Depression was now plumbing its darkest depths. It was the misfortune of Colonel Sinclair to command in one of the most difficult and disrupted periods in the Regiment’s and the country’s history. He achieved much in just holding the Regiment together as a potent force.

That winter, it was painfully apparent that something exciting, or even startling, must be devised to prevent the 48th Highlanders from sinking to the ineffectual state of many non-permanent units; some were virtually inactive as the Depression came dangerously close to pronouncing the death sentence on the Canadian Militia. Canada’s shadow military establishment was at an all-time low. (Postscript to 1931: The sad state of the Permanent Force was revealed in its 1931 strength: 3,688. When war broke out 8 years later, no more than 800 had been added.)

In the spring of 1932, Major John Girvan, D.S.O., M.C., V.D., was promoted, and commanded a battalion of 48th Highlanders for the second time. He had commanded the 15th Battalion during its roughest fighting in 1918, at the Crow’s Nest and the Drocourt-Queant Line, and over the Canal du Nord. This had followed a long, distinguished career as a fighting officer. He had been commissioned from the ranks in 1915, and was one of the outstanding 48th personalities of his time. (He was to command the 2nd Battalion, 48th Highlanders in still a third regimental decade—1940—an unmatched achievement.) His present appointment dated from April 10th, 1932.

There were the usual new officer appointments to conform: Major George Alexander became 2nd-in-Command; Major Jack Chipman commanded A Company; Capt. Eric Haldenby was now a Major, commanding B; Capt. Gerry Malone was O.C. of C and Major Ed Bickle still led D Company. Major Frank Smith had resigned to become Paymaster of the Black Watch in Montreal.

The Bennett Government was now at the helm in Ottawa, but there was no change in the Government’s attitude toward defence needs. In the fiscal year 1932-33, Canada’s total actual disbursements for all services and defence purposes were only $14,145,361. With judicious restraint, yet clear and surely justified irony, the Official Army Historion made the following comment years later on this period:

With this sum ($14 million) Canada, a country of more than ten million people, was supposedly maintaining a Navy, an Army (then called the Militia) and an Air Force.

A DEFIANT REGIMENTAL TRANSFORMATION

DEFIANTLY, the 48th Highlanders were determined to hold back militia deterioration, at least in the Regiment. They found the touch of something exciting. On their second April parade, the officers and W.Os. were smart in their still-new blue dress tunics, with the balance of the Battalion close to sensational for the times, dressed in white shell jackets, set off with white sporran straps. A lot of chalking and care with uniforms would be required, but the Regiment felt like strutting, and it did; it looked as if it were virtually bursting with its own pride.

They had done more than reverse deterioration; the 48th Highlanders of Canada suddenly became the Canadian Militia’s most potent force in its fight for survival against the combined pressure of depression and insidious pacifism, especially the latter. Locally, they were by far the most effective visible influence to call men of good sense back to reason. They electrified the Toronto Garrison and the Toronto public. The city had not seen such a colourful regiment since 1914; crowds hailed them with admiration as they marched around the militia block—Queen, Yonge, Dundas and University.

How it was done reveals the extent to which Canada’s militia officers were driven in the desperate effort to preserve the life of their units. They used subterfuge, white lies, invention, and all the resourceful artifices known to those wise in the army way. They called such devices survival strategy; a correct term, for was this not war against the social enemies?

The inspiration for the 48th Highlanders’ striking white shell jackets came from Major Jimmie Nicoll, the Quarter-master, to whom all honour for the thought. He had been investigating the Armoury basement and informed Colonel Girvan that a number of ancient white shell jackets were in storage below.

That was enough; the Colonel had been immersed in the army way for years, and even knew a bit about the way of the Staff. He hatched a plot. He would call on Major-Gen. T. V. Anderson, D.S.O., the D.O.C., to discuss the white jackets, not mentioning their number, or condition.

General Anderson was also a believer in the army way; he bent a sympathetic ear and did not ask questions. Colonel Girvan declared (in effect), that it was shameful to permit the white dress uniforms to deteriorate in a cellar, while the Canadian Government was so hard-pressed to find money to clothe Canada’s diminishing number of troops.

If the 48th Highlanders are given permission to wear the white jackets, it will not cost the Government a cent, said Colonel Girvan (again in effect), and they will be spared the cost of khaki tunics, he added. Required was an official directive ordering the stored uniforms to wear.

Perhaps the Staff at Ottawa decided to play it in the army way, too. Questions were perfunctory; the order was issued.

The Highlanders had anticipated it. The regimental tailor and his helpers were already working overtime to make jackets from rather costly bolts of new white wool cloth, purchased entirely at regimental expense.

Major Nicoll’s fortunate thought achieved a transformation in the Regiments appearance, and the C.O. went to work to restore spirit and enthusiasm. He launched innovations, and went back to old, tried practices to make the Friday drill nights interesting. He made Monday night lectures compulsory for officers; it was not popular, but it worked. He revived the age-old device of wise infantry commanders, called: Telling off the Battalion. Almost every Friday night, he briefly gave them hell, and they mostly loved it. A few citizen soldiers grumbled, but it made them think, and so caught their interest. Most effective of all, it held a touch of serious soldiering, and that gave increased meaning to their service in the Regiment.

Before long, it was apparent the 48th Highlanders had not only beaten the effects of the pacifist propaganda where the unit was concerned, but they were also combatting it in the public mind, at least on their home ground. As if to flout the times, regimental enthusiasm soared surprisingly. As civilians jammed the doorways, it was apparent public interest was being stirred anew. The Armouries on Friday nights became a littie island of resistence and protest in a world of pacifist thinking.

Such an achievement at such a period was tremendously important. It was in sharp contrast to the trend of both civilian thinking and the military times.

As for the Regiment, its transformation even in spirit was so definite it rejected the cynics and resentful pacifists who tried to say the increased strength of the Regiment was only because young men had no money, and nowhere else to go on drill nights. The truth was, the 48th officers and N.C.Os. had found support from an entirely unexpected facet of the Depression. Underlying and controlling the motive of many bewildered, insecure lads who joined the 48th Highlanders, was the feeling that the Regiment represented something they desperately, if unconsciously sought: a tangible form of security. The Regiment symbolized protection. Without work or money, many of them lived in a shattered world, and membership in the Regiment gave them a sense of strength and safety. They could find something solid to which to cling nowhere else. More important, their service gave them a sense of worthwhile personal purpose, their most serious lack of all.

BACK TO NIAGARA-ON-THE-LAKE

THIS year saw the revival of summer camps at Niagara-on-the-Lake. Dressed in service khaki, and with a new Drum Major—Sjt. Tiny (J.E.) Small—and his staff at their head, the Highlanders fell-in, and crossed the lake on Thursday night, June 30th, with the Q.O.R. and Royal Grenadiers also aboard. They were elated with life in the tent-lines again, pleased with the broad, green camping ground, and to hear the far, faint roar of Niagara in the nights. They enjoyed seeing Brock’s tall monument once more, even if they had to march up that precipitous hill. (Recruits watched the top of the Monument closely every cloudy day; didn’t the old-timers swear there were always cloud effects in the form of an 1812 soldier thumbing his nose toward Lewiston?) They were at least right that a pill was still the only cure for green-fruit bellyache.

The highlight of the camp’s activities was a colourful Tattoo on the dark night of July 31st, by the three 48th bands, 40 torch bearers, and the signallers and their lamps.

It was a busy regimental year, and even the autumn was active. Before their annual inspection and muster roll on November 4th, and the annual memorial parade on Sunday, November 6th, the Highlanders had revived the autumn tactical scheme. They staged a day-long tactical exercise in the Downsview farmland area. The Regiment had won the Efficiency of Personnel Contest in M.D. No. 2 in the previous year, and did it again for the 1931-32 period.

This was the year in which the Canadian Efficiency Decoration (officers) and Medal (other ranks) were struck. War service counted double time for the two awards. The last 48th Highlanders to receive the C.A.F. Officers Decoration (V.D.) were Major (QM) Tom Banton and Captains T. H. Clark and G. Machell, and Serjeants P. E. Cleal and Stan Gledhill were awarded the last of the old Long Service medals. In 1933, a total of 27 N.C.Os. and men would receive the new medal. (Postscript to 1932: For 10 years (since 1922), German factories had been designed for quick conversion to war; because of rapid industrial recovery, an immense German munitions potential now existed. In contrast, the democracies based their security on masses of obsolete weapons, and equally obsolete machinery. At years end, it was apparent Hitler would soon be Chancellor of Germany. The situation and prospect inspired Churchill in late 1932 to issue his first grave, formal warning of the catastrophe toward which the democracies were drifting; he could see the approach of "an almost measureless calamity.")

The Cenotaph

of the

48th Highlanders of Canada

——————

Queen’s Park, Toronto

Erected 1923

Throughout this winter, P.T. classes were conducted under Sjts. Jim McConnach and Tiny Shaw, M.M. They were meant as an antidote to the adverse effects of the Depression on physical fitness. The classes were well attended.

By the spring, the predicted ominous development in Europe had taken place (in early February) and had cast its reflection on the 48th Highlanders. Hitler was German Chancellor. From Col. Girvan down, the many war veterans in the Regiment felt the first chilling tremors of war in the distance. There was still no real apprehension, but they knew the Germans. They saw Hitler come to power in Germany with such sabre-rattling and brandishing of the Mailed Fist that the Prussian war lords in their crypts must have applauded.

Colonel Girvan’s demand for an atmosphere of serious soldiering was continued; the Regiment’s life in 1933 was almost as organized as that of a wartime training establishment. A syllabus of training for the entire spring season was issued, with the admonition: The timetable will be followed precisely. Regimental Orders also sharply said: The practice of trimming sporran tails must cease. The normal length is 11 inches. Companies will be charged with mutilated sporrans.

The recognition was belated, but the substantial detachment of 48th Highlanders who served in the South African War, now brought, to the Regiment an additional Battle Honour. The 48th Highlanders embroidered on their Regimental Colour —

South Africa 1899-1900

The regimental and garrison church parades went off well in the spring, and the Regiment was again under canvas at Niagara-on-the-Lake by the night of June 29th. At the camp, instructions were as detailed as a wartime Operation Order, and so were the Routine Orders for each formation. There was an Orderly Subaltern to assist the Orderly Officer, which meant the 2nd Lieutenants picked up procedure. They were soldiering.

The Regiment lost its most famous marksman this year; C.S.M. Bill (W.A.) Hawkins, winner of the King’s Prize at Bisley in 1913, died in October.

If the war clouds forming over Europe were not yet seen by the public, disturbed Staff minds were reflected in the unusual two-day military display ordered to be staged by the units of M.D. No. 2 in the C.N.E. Coliseum on November 10th-11th. The public mind might be stiffened a little. The 48th Highlanders performed a full-dress march-past each night. On the evening of the 10th, 12 officers and 200 O.Rs. staged a Trooping the Colour which was sincerely applauded, especially by the military audience.

Their Memorial Parade to the 48th Cenotaph in Queen’s Park on November 12th, ended a valuable regimental year. It had been a disturbing year for both civilians and soldiers, and it was also notable for the institution of many changes in titles and character and in the number of Canada’s militia units. Some newer infantry units vanished.

THE MILITIA UPHEAVAL (1933-36)

ALARM and protest had swept the Canadian military centres early in the summer on word of a drastic reduction in the number of infantry units. Viewed as an economy measure by the complacent Canadian Government, which remained deaf to the threat in the thud of German jack-boots to the end, the General Staff saw it as a sensible and essential preliminary to army preparation in the event of war. A reorganization of services was seriously overdue; there was an unwieldy number of infantry units in relation to those organized as machine-gun, tank or Aac Aac battalions. It had developed through sentimental perpetuation of many C.E.F. infantry units after 1918, and now there was going to be heartbreak.

The pointed suggestion was first made that the infantry units had this choice: change from infantry, amalgamate, or disband. It was their move.

In the Toronto Garrison, they tried the army way, which ignores an unpleasant order to see what happens, in the hope nothing will. It failed to work. The D.O.C. called a final meeting of commanding officers; he told them if the hard move was not made voluntarily, it would be ordered, arbitrarily, forthwith. It would be to disband.

There was a rush to comply. It was not done overnight, but by the end of 1935 the Infantry was greatly reduced. The Toronto Scottish, perpetuating the 75th Battalion C.E.F., became a machine-gun unit; so did the Irish Regiment. The two local ranger battalions amalgamated to become the Queen’s York Rangers, 1st American Regt. (M.G.). The Toronto Regiment, perpetuating the 3rd Battalion, C.E.F., disappeared by amalgamation with the Royal Grenadiers, renamed the Royal Regiment of Toronto Grenadiers. The Ontario Regiment at Oshawa became a tank unit. The Queen’s Own Rifles stayed with the army way, tried what looked like a compromise, and succeeded; they offered to abolish their second battalion, which was only a paper formation in any event. Everyone in the Q.O.R. kept his face straight until the offer was accepted. (Artful fellows, those riflemen, said the Garrison.)

The 48th Highlanders did even better. When no notice of any kind reached the D.O.C. on 48th intentions, he asked Colonel Girvan what the Regiment intended to do.

To remain as we are, said Colonel Girvan stiffly polite, and striving to feign a touch of confident surprise. But he knew great relief, and not a little astonishment, when his reply was accepted without comment.

This was the regimental independence showing up which had always been a distinct 48th characteristic, as it would continue to be. There was risk, but there were elements to support the C.O.’s stand. The unit was in wonderful shape, and that was undoubtedly a strong influence in the acquiescence of the Staff. When the changes became effective in 1935-6, the 48th Highlanders of Canada was the sole unit in Military District No. 2 which held the status quo, and did not suffer some change in this 1933 upheaval.

It was happening all across Canada, and few were immune to the shake-up, so the 48th Highlanders privately considered their treatment was part tribute and part diplomatic victory, which envious and sometimes resentful comments from other units only served to confirm. (Postscript to 1933: Before year-end, Germany disdainfully withdrew from the Disarmament Conference, leaving those who wished to disarm to proceed. She also withdrew from the League of Nations. Hitler was secretly arming fast. Amazingly, the democratic leaders remained careless about German intentions.)

In the spring of 1934, a revealing General Order said:

For the year 1934-35, all tactical exercises will be designed to study the DEFENCE, with special reference to the occupation of a hastily organized position.

This did not imply the General Staff had a defensive mind; it spoke only of their desperation on one of two counts, and it is not clear which was the underlying motive. Either the Staff felt the only hope for Canada’s pitifully weak armed forces was to learn all they could about defensive fighting in order to survive a few extra hours; or pacifism was now so firmly entrenched, with many voluble and influential exponents, it was thought unwise to risk having Canada’s citizen soldiers caught learning how to attack someone. It was certainly unsafe to order offensive training. (Postscript to Training: It may be revealing of the army way that despite the directives on defence, the 48th Highlanders’ annual field exercise in the autumn was always based on a battalion in attack. The Staff must have looked on with Nelson’s blind eye.)

If the admittance was slightly begrudged, even rival units in the Garrison now said the 48th Highlanders could stage a grand ceremonial. They displayed a series of them during the 4-day Military Tournament in the spring of 1934. The Regiment supplied a Guard of Honour comprised of 100 men under Major Eric Haldenby. Their Trooping the Colour won military applause, and fascinated the public; they were in scarlet, and the Troop each night was followed by a tableau: The Thin Red Line.

Colonel Girvan welcomed the practices for this spring’s Tournament; he was putting the Regiment under a stiff smartening-up process, for a purpose. He instituted a Staff Parade each drill night, and introduced other innovations to bring the Regiment to a new peak of efficiency and smartness. The Highlanders supplied a Guard of Honour for the Centennial Celebration and the opening of Fort York Armouries on May 24th, staged a Troop of the Colour for the Kiwanis International in June, and then the C.O. told them the news. There would be a week’s visit by the entire Regiment to the United States. They would go to Chicago, representing the Canadian Armed Forces, as an attraction at the World’s Fair of 1934, elaborately titled: The Century of Progress International Exposition. This was the result of a visit to the Exposition officials by Colonel Girvan and Majors Jimmie Nicoll and Scott Griffin.

THE HIGHLANDERS IN CHICAGO

THE movement to Chicago was a combination of exciting adventure and well-executed military operation; a lot of war experience went into its organization. The one thing to mark it as a gay, peacetime jaunt was their scarlet; the entire Battalion travelled in full dress.

A large advance party under Capt. Gerry Malone preceded the Battalion into Chicago’s Naval Armoury, with the American military hosts briefed on the Highlanders’ ways and needs before they arrived. Major Jack Chipman acted as 2nd-in-Command, with C.S.M. Frank Jamieson of C Company acting as R.S.M.

For the journey, the Colour Officers were Capt. S. W. Graham and 2nd Lt. Phil Seagram, the Regiment’s newest subaltern. Major Bob Cory, M.C. was Officer of the Day. During the first ceremonies at Chicago, the Colours were borne by Lieutenants Ian Johnston and J. E. Willis. Attached officers for the trip were Col. C. H. Hill, D.S.O., District A.A.G. and Q.M.G.; Captains J. A MacFarlane and Charlie Gossage, M.O.s., and Captain Bryan L. Davis, U.S. Artillery, who acted as A.D.C. to the C.O.

The Americans, thousands of whom had never before seen a kilted soldier, literally mobbed the Highlanders. In their frank curiosity and breezy American way, they demanded to know what that hair thing (sporran) was, why they wore a badge incorporating an American eagle, and why they wore anklets. Do all British soldiers wear red jackets? (Say, Jack, what the hell do you wear under your skirts, anyway? The missus wants to know.)

Their ceremonial drills on the Avenue of Flags before huge crowds were enjoyed by the Highlanders themselves; it was hot, but their audiences were vociferously appreciative. But the Regiment had learned at once it was not all holiday, and for some it was all duty. Reveille awoke them early; there was a kit and barrack inspection at 0900 hours, and not a blanket could then be disturbed until after Retreat in the evening. Sick parade was at 0930; a full dress guard was mounted at 1000 hours, with Orderly Room held 30 minutes later. There was always a case or two. (Every American seemed to have a flask on his hip.) There were sanitary and mess fatigues, and many duties for the officers. The armoury swimming pool was in constant use, and the men’s health had never been so closely watched. Parading in full dress under a hot Chicago sun, was an ordeal, but only one man collapsed, and that was on the hottest day, when the temperature reached 103°.

A pleasantly tired battalion entrained for home on July 21st, with the C.O., his officers and N.C.Os relieved it was over. A whole battalion of vigorous, high-spirited men abroad in a city packed with visitors out for a little elemental hell-raising, and not averse to a little themselves, was a responsibility. It was worth the trouble. The Regiment would remember Chicago for years, and they left an excellent impression of Canadian soldiers on the Americans. (The following spring a party of U.S. naval officers visited the Regiment to present the Officers’ Mess with a pair of andirons, fashioned from ships’ anchors. It was a gesture of appreciation from Chicago’s U.S. Naval Armoury.)

Despite reversion to routine after the exciting trip, the fall parades were marked by excellent strength and enthusiasm. (Postscript to 1934: Hitler shocked the democracies by arrogantly announcing the existence of a German Air Force, forbidden by the peace treaty, which was equal to Britain’s. The British Government refused to worry about the implication, but in Paris Daladier reiterated: "Shall we again take the bloody road of 1914?")

The Officers’ Mess now possessed considerable loot, recently acquired, to enhance its military, regimental and Scottish atmosphere. The U.S. Navy’s andirons stood before a new fireplace; Major Fred Grant, M.C., had presented a ram’s-head snuff mull, and the Hon. W. D. Ross a pair of silver candlesticks; Major Alexander Fraser, a founding officer, had provided a pair of drinking horns; the Officers of the Gordon Highlanders had sent a silver statuette of an officer of the Gordons in full dress. In addition to the fine oils already adorning the Mess, there was now a portrait of Colonel K. R. Marshall by Kenneth Forbes, and another of Colonel D. M. Robertson by Joshua Smith.

The Earl of Bessborough had been a distinguished guest at the Ball in 1933; (so was Lord Tweedsmuir in this year, 1935); and there had been a memorable visitor and night in 1934 when the Duke of Montrose inspected the Regiment and supped with the officers. He was a magnificent figure in colourful Highland dress.

The pacifist propaganda had by now infected many Canadian groups, but the man-in-the-street was growing skeptical. He had a dubious tongue-in-cheek attitude to the repeated assurances of the advocates of a peace by appeasement, because a dark, ominous shadow seemed to move across his personal mental tableau on the international horizon every time Hitler’s raucous voice grated on his ears over, the radio.

There was a caustic discussion in the 48th Serjeants’ Mess that winter, with the Canadian Government the target. No voice disputed the disgusted contention, as it was propounded that Canadian strategy in case of attack (as designed by the politicians) was cravenly to take shelter under the Lion’s Paw or to creep under the Eagle’s Wing — Anything but fight and defend ourselves! Even this early, open criticism by Canadian soldiers of Government policy was being heard, something which became common army practice during the war that was now not far off.

AN HISTORIC JUBILEE CHURCH PARADE

THIS was the year (1935) of the King’s Jubilee. The Toronto Garrison marked it by an unusually large and impressive turn-out for the annual garrison church parade, which abandoned the Mutual Street arena as its scene. They moved the parade to Maple Leaf Baseball Stadium, and were never to return to the ancient skating rink. Riverdale and Dentonia Parks, the C.N.E. grounds and Queen’s Park were all utilized in later years.

This time, cold spring winds had to be braved to obtain seating capacity, and for a huge band assembly under Capt. John Slatter. The Jubilee Church Parade featured a notable display by the bands, but it was accompanied by an unexpected outburst of hilarity from the troops, who seemed to feel the day’s programme was designed to entertain them.

In the Staff’s infinite wisdom, the officers of each unit were ordered to break-off at the stadium gate; they were then conducted to seats well remote from sections occupied by their men. When all units were finally seated and growing restless, the band of each was marched in individually—and the men set out to amuse themselves. They cheered their own unit’s band loudly and long, but emitted thunderous jeers and cat-calls as the greeting for all others. Each band brought an increase in the volume and conflict of whoops, whistles and long-drawn boos. As the bands kept coming, the men’s enthusiasm for derision and sheer noise banished all semblance of a church parade atmosphere, and military dignity was also in ruins when the protests of gesticulating Military District staff officers were considered entertaining, and were applauded with brash glee.

To cap the unseemly demonstration of Sunday afternoon high spirits, an extremely constipated dog wandered across the empty baseball diamond. He chose third base at which to try and perform his intimate toilet in full view of the howling multitude. As he went into contortions to relieve himself, the other ranks of the Toronto Garrison went into convulsions, with unrestrained guffaws also rolling from the officers’ sections. No church parade in Toronto’s history, and few ball games had ever known such an uproarious bedlam. A veteran officer gasped: It’s shameful … but … Ha!Ha!Ha!… I’ve never seen anything to match this in 20 years in the army!

The Staff’s reaction to the carnival mood was red-faced indignation, and an inclination to blame the unit commanders. The Staff were not blameless themselves; they had removed the units from the control of their officers.

When the din died down, the service at last proceeded with commendable decorum.

Eighteen members of the Regiment now added the King George V Silver Jubilee Medal to their left breasts (after war service decorations and before efficiency, long service and foreign decorations). Those to appear in orders for the award were: Lt.-Col. Girvan; Majors Eric Haldenby, Scott Griffin (Pay), and Jim Nicholl (QM); and Captains Ted Gordon, M.C., Bill Hendrie, Gerry Malone, M.C., John Slatter and Bill Southam; R.S.M. Frank Jamieson; C.S.Ms. George Emslie and Plug Ardagh; Pipe Major James Fraser; Serjeants T. R. Church and G. B. Pares and Pte. S. E. Knight.

Colonel John Girvan’s tenure as Commanding Officer was now concluding, after proving the value of the full four-year term. Under him, the 48th Highlanders had won the Infantry Association Efficiency Trophy three times, and the Regiment was third in the other year. This was not the real criterion of his success; that rested in the transformation achieved in the midst of the depression, and carried out, in addition, in the face of a rising tide of pacifist propaganda. (Postscript to 1935: This should have been seen as the year of final warning. In March, Hitler had again broken the Treaty of Versailles by instituting full-scale military conscription, with Germany’s rearmament now openly avowed. Mussolini also arrogantly defied the democracies; he seized Abyssinia by force. By autumn, Hitler was poised to seize the Rhineland. The humiliated democratic diplomats met at Stresa, and impotently gabbled. They were frightened now, but only encouraged the power-lusting Dictators by refusing to meet threat by more than words. Churchill publicly stated he could see the approach with inexorable strides of a desperate struggle with Nazi Germany.)

COLONEL ALEXANDER TAKES COMMAND

ANOTHER veteran of the 15th Battalion and the 2nd Battle of Ypres, and a 48th Highlander of long standing, Major George Alexander, M.C., took command of the Regiment from Colonel Girvan in the spring of 1936. There was a minimum of appointment changes. Major Jack Chipman moved up to be 2nd-in-Command, and Capt. Ted Gordon took command of A Company. Capt. Bill Southam had relinquished the Adjutancy after his long tenure to Capt. Eddie Ganong on March 1st. Lt. Don Cameron was detailed to duty as Assistant Adjutant.

During the previous autumn, R.S.M. Fred Gledhill, D.C.M., had retired, and A/R.S.M. Frank Jamieson was now confirmed as Regimental, He was also a veteran of the 15th Battalion, C.E.F.

The restricted funds available to the General Staff for operation of the Canadian Militia were reflected in a revealing District Order on May 8th:

No recruits, other than applicants who have previously served with the Regiment, will be taken on strength after Monday, May 11th, 1936.

The General Staff were in such dire straits for money they did not wish more volunteer recruits; they could not afford them. This condition was to go on, and on. Every spring and fall the District Order was re-issued. Only such fortunate units as the 48th Highlanders, who were virtually equipping themselves, could ignore the order, and attempt to keep the unit up to strength against the day of disillusionment for the blind.

Colonel Alexander led the 48th Highlanders in the autumn on a second tactical exercise on the Crang and Chapman farms. (They had schemed here in 1935.) As usual, their operation was judged and scored, and would have an echo in a great award year to come.

To the Canadian soldier, one of the most disturbing of all developments during the difficult ‘Thirties, was the death of King George V and the short reign (without coronation) of Edward VIII, and then his dramatic abdication. The entire British world took sides, formed opinions, excused or condemned. The denial by Edward of responsibility to the nation because of the woman I love shocked the war veterans most of all. He had been their idol, nothing less, ever since as Edward, Prince of Wales, he had tried so hard to be of use during the war. But the most sentimental soldier could not condone this; they demanded: What about the woman the private soldier loves when the nation goes to war? Does he leave her? Or does he deny responsibility to the nation?

This down-to-earth reaction was general throughout all British countries. It was signalling the disintegration of the idealistic Prince Charming. (Postscript to 1936: Hitlers storm-troopers marched over the Rhine bridges and occupied the Rhineland—mocking the democracies and scorning all covenants. The appeasors permitted it in the interests of peace. For the same professed reason, Britain and France abjectly backed down on the proposed sanctions against Mussolini. Civil war broke out in Spain, where both Dictators, and also Soviet Russia, sharpened their weapons and tested tactics.)

Coronation Year was busy regimentally, but a sharp apprehension was now lurking in many 48th minds; they could feel the red tide of war rolling toward them. It seemed unmistakable. It was in 1937 that 48th Highlanders for the first time began seriously considering how they could adjust family and business affairs to answer the call to active service. Friends made pacts to go together if war came. In the meantime, they could only carry on, and hope.

The 48th Highlanders had won the District Lewis Gun competition in 1936, and for 1936-37 they also won the major militia award—the General Efficiency Competition—defeating the R. H. L. I., Toronto and Wentworth regiments, in that order. They made it a sweep by also winning the Signals award over the Ontario (Tank) Regiment, Haldimand Rifles and the Lincoln Regiment. Winning these contests in 1937 gave special satisfaction; if war came the Regiment would be found at a peak.

The ascent to the Throne of His Majesty, George VI was marked at most unit military events throughout the Toronto Garrison, including a notable official Coronation Parade in Queen’s Park on May 12th at which Colonel Alexander led the Highlanders in the principal infantry role. After the artillery had roared its 21-gun Royal salute, the Highlanders fired the feu de joie—joyful fire—a rippling fusilade of single shots running down the length of the Highland line. Timing is important, and they did it well. (It was no ragged; yon was gude.—an ex-Gordon spectator.)

Niagara Camp was hilarious that year on noting the recognition of the sensitivities of a garbage man in the fastidious language adopted by Capt. Eddie Ganong, the Adjutant. In Regimental Orders, detailed instructions were given on sorting wet garbage, on separating dry garbage, and on how to identify incinerator garbage; it was then to be given to the Conservancy Man. The garbage was undoubtedly well looked after, and so was every other detail about that year’s camp.

Sixteen 48th Highlanders were awarded the Coronation Medal (worn immediately following their war and Jubilee medals): Lt.-Col. George Alexander, Major Jack Chipman, Captains Eddie Ganong, Bruce King, Goeff Machell and Spike Merry; Lieutenants Bill Darling and George Hendrie; C.S.Ms. Frank North, Jim McConnach, Tiny Shaw, M. M., and Harry Ralph; C.Q.M.S. R. McKeown; Bugle Major W. K. Tews, and Serjeants J. W. Gamble and E. W. Taylor. (Postscript to 1937: Eden resigned from the British Cabinet as a protest to its surrender to the Dictators. Hitler had bluntly told Eden that Germany, now in its second year of open rearmament, would continue to do as she pleased, irrespective of the democracies’ conceptions of international law and morality.)

THE LAST YEAR OF PRECARIOUS PEACE

FOUR weeks before the Highlanders’ 1938 drill season opened, a violent shock startled the millions dependent upon the judgment of the democratic leaders. The shadow of what was implied and impending grew dark over the Regiment’s days, and, in retrospect, it seems unbelievable that a furious effort to rearm did not now begin in Britain, France and Canada. A belligerent and determined Germany, which appeared to be armed to the teeth, forced the Anschluss—union—with Austria. Hitler now had a scornful contempt for the European democratic powers; he knew he could defy them with impunity.

His coup in Austria immensely strengthened support by the German people of his doctrine of might to settled international disputes. From this point, Hitler rapidly became the Aryan demigod of the warlike Germans.

That fateful spring, 6 ancient warriors of the 48th Highlanders retired: 3 officers and 3 N.C.Os. The veteran officers to resign were Major Aleck Sinclair, an original of the 15th Battalion, who had commanded No. 1 Company in action at Mount Sorrel; Capt. Stewart Graham, long a musketry officer, and Major Tom Banton, their Q.M. for years, who retired as a Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel. The three hoary N.C.Os. who also dropped out were C.S.Ms. Bob Henderson and Tam Young, the marksman, and loyal Sjt. Sam Leake, who would go on working for the members of the Regiment for years. (When such men go, you wonder how the Regiment can still look like itself.)

The 48th Highlanders suffered a great loss in May in the death of their Honorary Lieutenant-Colonel, Colonel D. M. Robertson, M.V.O., V.D. He was a founding officer, and had been Commanding Officer from 1906 to 1911. The Regiment was present in strength for the service on May 10th, when full military honours were paid. The pall-bearers were former Officers Commanding. Major J. H. Ghipman and Capts. W. B. Hendrie and W. W. Southam were the officers of the Escort, and the Colours were borne by Lieutenants L. Crawford-Brown and D. F. B. Corbett. A bearer party of 8 Senior N.C.Os. was in full dress, as were the Guards in St. Andrews Church. Pipe Major Fraser played the funeral procession to the gun carriage, and the cortege then proceeded to Mt. Pleasant Cemetery where the burial service was conducted by the Chaplain, H/Major Stuart Parker.

The Regiment was wisely building up its officer strength in 1938, and re-engagements of senior N.C.Os. were almost 100% of those due to re-enlist. That included R. S. M. Jamieson, and almost every C.S.M. and C.Q.M.S. on the roll. New officers to join in 1938 were 2nd Lieutenants Frank (F.F) McEachren, Peter (P.W.) Bennett, Harry (H.H.A.) Parker, George (G.E.B.) Renison and Fred (F.L.) Wood.

From May to August, there was a misleading diplomatic truce, a false lull in the tension. In the German Sudetenland of Czechoslovakia, deliberately inflamed passions were paving the