All Slaughter on the Western Front

Clamorous cheering at the leave-taking ceremony from the old folk, weeping wives, baffled bairns, sobbing sweethearts and flag-waving siblings stilled suddenly. Cutting una bella figura on his debut as regimental bugler, 19-year old David Clark, my maternal grandfather, in the eye-catching tartan trousers and green beret of the Territorial Scottish Rifles, slowly raised his bugle and solemnly sounded the salute to the flag in the market town of Hamilton, eleven miles southeast of Glasgow.