When I was called up in 1943, I had to report to Fort George for six weeks of intensive infantry training. From there I was sent to Eastbourne to join the Liverpool Scottish which was a training battalion for the Cameron Highlanders.

I then spent a short time in Wales after which I was posted to Banbridge in County Down for further training. Having completed this I got home for ten days on embarkation leave. With my full kit I had to stand in the corridor of the train all the way from Euston to Inverness. I then reported to Liverpool where I boarded the SS Orontes which became the flagship of our convoy.

The German dive bombers attacked us off Crete.  We couldn’t see the escorting vessels but we understood we were well protected.  We could see frigates and destroyers weaving in and out among the ships.  Two or three ships were sunk of Crete by the dive bombers.  Then the convoy broke up as some ships were heading for North Africa and Palestine.  We continued through the Suez Canal and out into the Indian Ocean without convoy.

When we reached Bombay we were dispatched to Deolali which was a transit camp.  From there we went to near Bohpal to do a month’s intensive jungle training.  We had to drink a gallon of salt water a day.  We had no difficulty in drinking it as we were sweating by day and night.

We then went by train to Dimapur and our draft joined the First Camerons.  That was my first taste of action at eighteen years of age.  The artillery and machine guns were blazing and we were ordered to dig in.  A raging battle went on for a fortnight.  The Japanese army was just as strong as ours and both sides suffered heavy casualties. 

The Deputy Commissioners bungalow had a tennis court and the Japs were dug in  on one side of it and we were practically on the other side.  The battle was finally won by us and this was the turning point of the war and from then on we pushed the Japs back and back.

Once when I was sharing a trench with the Platoon Commander who saw movement in the elephant grass, he asked me to throw a grenade.  I said. ‘ No, throw it yourself,’  which he did.  In the morning there was a Japanese Officer lying dead in the grass with his sword drawn.  We thought perhaps he had been using the sword to make a way through the grass.  When we approached nearer we saw that he had been fatally wounded by the grenade.  My Commander appropriated the sword and carried it with him all through the campaign.

We spent several weeks making preparations to cross the Irriwaddy.  One night we were in our trench when we heard movement and someone whistling “Annie Laurie”.  This was a Japanese night patrol and they must have known there was a Scottish Regiment in the vicinity.  None of us was allowed to fire as it would give away our position.  Once they got back across the river the shells came pelting over but we didn’t suffer heavy casualties.  Unfortunately we lost our medical officer who was shot through the head and the same bullet went through the helmet of Frank MacLaughlin our Padre without hitting him at all.  You can see the helmet in the museum at Fort George.

We lived on bullied beef and hard biscuits for months on end.  We were as yellow as the Japs and we had to take a Mapecrene tablet every day.  Burma is a very unhealthy country and the malaria germ is rife.

We were due to assist on an attack on Rangoon but this never took place as the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima.

The battalion moved to Japan with the Army of Occupation and we were fairly well received.  The Americans had a colder reception as the Japs blamed them for dropping the bomb. 

I was flown home from Japan and what struck me most as I neared home was the greenness of the fields and the lushness of the countryside.