Memoirs of Gordie Bannerman - World War II

• December 1941 .

  Leaving Uncle Jack aunt Cis and family, I caught the train out of Aberdeen on my way north to see my grand parents. This train stopped at a few stations along the way, and I finally arrived at Brucklay station. Here was the nearest stop to New Pitsligo, birthplace of my Dad, and now home to my Grand parents. At Brucklay station I enquired how to get to New Pitsligo, and was directed to a bus that would take me there. The bus driver's name eludes me but he remembered my Dad coming home to New Pitsligo in WW1. I was really excited with all this and had my eyes taking in all the surroundings as darkness was falling. Arriving in the village, it seemed that I caught a connecting bus and as we neared Old Manse where my grand parents lived, another bus. The conductoress, whom I thought was my Aunt Mary, came aboard, but giving this person a hug, she said she was my aunt's sister-in-law, Francis Chalmers. She said to take that path down the hill and there is where your grand parents live.

  What a great welcome I had from Mum's youngest sister, my aunt Mary. She and her husband, my Uncle Jim, lived in one half of this great old house and my grand parents in the other half. Greetings over, Aunt Mary said I will take you through to meet your grandparents. On entering the other half of the house I noted a great peat fire going in the huge fireplace, and my grand parents standing beside it. Mary said this is Gordon. As I went forward to greet grandma and grandad, the first words that Grandma said to me was, ''You're Meg's boy. You see my mother was Margaret but had always been called Meg. What a thrill for me to finally meet real blood relatives.

  Grandma was a tall lady and grandad short and very stooped. Oh yes my mother had said good-bye to Grandma and Grandad only 22 years before as Mum and Dad left for Canada in 1919, just at the end of WW1, the war to end all wars, and here was their second oldest grandson back overseas to fight another war. Sort of ironic that it was a war to hasten the meeting of my relatives.

  I noted on the fireplace mantle there was two large ostrich eggs in holders. I exclaimed that I knew about those eggs as Mum had told me that her Uncle Jack had brought them back from abroad. I think I was fed very well, but do not remember what, except a delicious soup and oat cakes baked on a griddle over the open peat fire, then stood along the hearth to give the oatcakes that peaty toasted flavour.

  That Mum, away in Canada, must have had great home sickness for a peat fire, oat cakes and milk. If my Mum was homesick for Scotland, she hid it well striving to raise a family and stick by my Dad who, looking back on it, must have gone through the most terrible times during the war. I was yet to experience that. To say I was not excited is an understatement to be here in Scotland and having Grandma say, "And You're Meg's Boy ".

  That was 61 years ago within a few days! Where have the years gone? If I do not get on with this series, it will be years, to get complete !