We mairch tae the beat o the drum, richt airms sweengin, brogues clackin on the tarmac, rifles held at the left shouder. Crouds line the pavements, clappin, cheerin, wavin as we pass. I’m twinty-five years auld, an infantry sodger in the First Battalion o the Gordon Highlanders an this paraud, doon the mile lang lenth o Aberdeen’s Union Street, is pairt o the Regiment’s 200th birthday celebrations.
The sun maks the granite buildins shine siller this Juin efternuin. It feels intoxicatin tae be pairt o this paraud, tae be a cog in this machine o men and airms whase history spans twa centuries. I’ve been a sodger for twa year at this pynt, ane percent o the battalion’s existence. Twa year o livin, rinnin, trainin, chiverin in the cauld, lauchin, jokin, compleenin wi this body o men.
Tae be ready for this day, we hiv unnergone months o drill practeese on the paraud square, unner the ever-vigilant ee o the Regimental Sergeant Major. I wad suiner hae been unner the gaze o The Eye o Sauron than the punishin glower o oor RSM. His DNA shuirly included strands frae a parteecular ill-gien breed o rottweiler an his caustic wit coud dissowle a man in seiconts. Tae become the subject o his creetical attention wis tae hae yer day ruint. Some puir sowel wid get in a guddle an syne be maircht dooble-time aroon the barracks by a Corporal bawling at thaim for the neist oor. Thare a celebration in watchin that as weel tho, as the thocht gangs throu yer heid – at least it’s no me!
In hindsight, it’s mazin hou muckle trainin wis requirit for whit wis essentially glorified group walkin. Aye an on, whan the kilts and sporrans are swingin wi ilka stap (an mair, for us true Scotsmen!), spats shinin brichtly, brogues polisht within an inch o thair life an the crouds hiv turnt oot tae cheer ye on, it aw feels wirthwhile.
In that year, 1994, the Gordon Highlanders war twa hunder years auld. Twa hunder years o young men leavin thair hames, belike voluntarily, belike (as wi mony I kent) acause the airmy wis the least-warst option at that pynt in thair lifes. Twa hunder years o conflict and wars, some o which war existential, some imperial, some folly, some tragedy, some necessar.
Houiver, in ‘at year, the Regiment faced its greatest threit, ane, at the hinder end, ayont the abeelity o its officers an men tae defeat. The ‘Options for Change’ review, a government re-structuring o the Airmt Forces follaein the clyte o the Soviet Union a few years earlier, haed decidit that the Gordon Highlanders and the Queens Own Highlanders wad gae thegither tae form a new regiment – The Highlanders. The Gordon’s Regimental Colonel haed voued tae fecht the amalgamation, tellin us that Juin at “We’re no deid yet!”, but success agin government bureaucracy and accountants seemt less likely than veectory haed buin agin the Wehrmacht.
Aiblins the lairge crouds watchin the paraud haed a sense o that as weel, juidgin that this wis a ‘last chance tae see’ the Regiment that haed represented the North-east o Scotland for twa centuries. As a young loon, I wis less concernt aboot that, aboot hunders o years o history. I wis juist enjeyin the maument, mairchin doun the main street o ma hame toun in aw ma finery while fowk leukit on and cheert.
O coorse, the amalgamation gaed aheid and the Gordon Highlanders are truly deid nou. Leukin back, that lang mairch doun throu the toun tae a boozy denner at the Beach Ballroom, that wis belike the hielicht o my time in the Airmy. The amalgamation itsel wis problematic, like a shotgun mairiage tryin tae bring twa distinct faimilies thegither. In some weys it wis like the transeetion frae Primary tae Secondary schuil, whaur clesses o bairns wha hiv spent years thegither are spleet up an mixt intae new and unfameeliar boorachs. It taks time tae find that cless speerit again.
That tho is a yairn for anither day. On Friday Juin 24th 1994, we celebrated as we maircht tae the beat o that drum, the pipe band playin us on aw the way doun Union Street. I wis surroonded by freends, my brithers in airms, rememberin the feats o thae wha haed gane afore us. Back then, awmaist three decades aby. Back whan we war sodgers.