Additions to listings

As I was checking the CWGC website for casualty listings which included to word "stornoway", I came across at least three names of men who had connections to the town, or to the island. The search also yielded results that had no connections to the Isle of Lewis; four lived on Stornoway Road in Southend-on-Sea in Essex; one came from Stornoway in Saskatchewan, Canada.

Captain REGINALD FOWLER GREENHILL
Only son of Mrs. and the late Dr. S. F. Greenhill, of 9, Bank St., Stornoway, Isle of Lewis.
Last address in Lewis: 9 Bank Street, Stornoway
Service unit: 15th Lancashire Fusiliers
Date of death: 1 January 1918 at the age of 22
Interred: Wimereux Communal Cemetery, grave IV. I. 3

Private JOHN FORREST
Last address in Lewis: Stornoway
Son of Mr. A. M. Forrest, of Beach House, South Beach St., Stornoway.
Service unit: 1st Scots Guards
Service number: 9892
Born at Montrose
Enlisted at Paisley
Date of death: 28 September 1915
Died of wounds
Interred: Noeux-les-Mines Communal cemetery, grave I. D. 28.

Private DONALD DRUMMOND
Last address in Lewis: Garrabost
Son of the late Alexander and Jemima Drummond, of Garrabost, Stornoway.
Service unit: 7th Seaforth Highlanders
Service number: S/12696
Date of death: 10 November 1916 at the age of 23
Died of wounds
Interred: Warrington Cemetery, grave C. NC. 717

Archibald Macphee - to be brought in from the cold

A couple of years ago, I managed to have private Norman Morrison, late of South Dell, and private Finlay Maclean, late of Sandwick, "in from the cold". That means that they were awarded Commonwealth War Dead status.

In recent months, I have focused on compiling a listing of Great War casualties from the Southern Isles. This comprises the islands of Harris, Berneray, North Uist, Grimsay, Benbecula, South Uist, Eriskay, Barra and Vatersay. One of the casualties, Archibald Macphee, was found to be a potential candidate for Commonwealth War Dead status as well. The proces is lengthy, and I'll update as developments occur.

Private ARCHIBALD MACPHEE
Last known address in South Uist: Garryhillie
Son of John and Mary Macphee
Service unit: 3rd Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders
Service number: 3/5553
Date of death: 10 February 1917 at the age of 23
Died at home of illness
Local memorial: South Uist

Pte Macphee died of TB, which he contracted whilst on service. He was repatriated in order to be treated for trench foot. I am indebted to a relative for highlighting this man.

The Great War in Lewis - some figures

Late last year, I completed the bulk of the work on Lewismen lost in the Great War. Using the tag-function of the Blogger platform, I was able to gather the following statistics.

NAMES
Most common first names:
Donald: 242
John: 262
Murdo: 125
Angus: 100
Malcolm: 94

Most common second names:
Macleod: 265
Macdonald: 157
Mackenzie: 87
Morrison: 71
Maciver: 66

VILLAGES
(number of casualties per village)
Point
Aignish: 16
Aird: Point(13
Bayble: 56
Broker: 4
Flesherin: 7
Garrabost: 28
Knock: Point: 18
Portnaguran: 13
Portvoller: 11
Sheshader: 19
Shulishader: 9
Swordale: 12

Stornoway
Benside: 14
Branahuie: 3
Coulregrein: 6
Guershader: 2
Holm: 5
Laxdale: 3
Melbost: 4
Newvalley: 8
Sandwick: 15
Stenish: 7
Stornoway: 145

Back & Tolsta
Aird Tong: 14
Back: 30
Coll: 26
Gress: 1
North Tolsta: 52
Tong: 9
Vatisker: 13

Ness
Adabrock: 7
Aird Dell: 3
Cross: 8
Eorodale: 9
Eoropie: 9
Fivepenny: 13
Habost: 22
Knockaird: 7
Lionel: 17
North Dell: 6
Port of Ness(4
Skigersta: 6
South Dell: 23
Swainbost: 16

West Side
Arnol: 20
Ballantrushal: 15
Barvas: 20
Borve: 19
Bragar: 32
Brue: 12
Shader: 31
Shawbost: 39

Uig
Aird Uig: 3
Borrowston: 3
Breasclete: 21
Brenish: 7
Callanish: 19
Carishader: 2
Carloway: 38
Crowlista: 9
Enaclete: 1
Garenin: 11
Geshader: 2
Islivig: 2
Kinlochroag: 1
Kirivick: 9
Kneep: 4
Mangersta: 2
Tolsta Chaolais: 14
Uigen: 2
Valtos: 10

Great Bernera
Breaclet: 4
Croir: 2
Crulivig: 3
Earshader: 1
Kirkibost: 6
Lundale: 5
Hacklet: 3

Lochs
Achmore: 7
Arivruaich: 4
Balallan: 19
Calbost: 7
Caversta: 2
Cromore: 4
Crossbost: 13
Garyvard: 2
Gravir: 11
Grimshader: 3
Habost: 6
Keose: 2
Kershader: 5
Laxay: 8
Lemreway: 6
Leurbost: 30
Marvig: 4
Orinsay: 1
Ranish: 29

YEARS
1914: 77
1915: 227
1916: 230
1917: 251
1918: 215
1919: 217
1920: 11
1921: 2

Iolaire, 1 January 1919: 178 (Lewismen only)
Battle of Jutland, 31 May 1916: 21
Battle of the Somme, 1 July 1916: 33

Military units
Royal Naval Reserve: 435
Seaforth Highlanders: 309
Canadians: 139
Cameron Highlanders: 88
Gordon Highlanders: 78
Merchant Navy: 46

The Iolaire Story

This is the full story, as told in five parts between 7.30pm on December 31st and 9.10 am on January 1st.

It is Hogmanay 1918, and the war has been over for seven weeks. Survivors from the Western Front and the war at sea are flocking home. As are hundreds of sailors from the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. Three trains pull into the harbourside station at Kyle of Lochalsh, and hundreds pour onto the platform and adjoining quayside to join a ferry home. The Skye men can take the short hop to Kyleakin, or join the steamer north to Portree. The sailors and soldiers from the Outer Hebrides have a longer journey ahead of them.

The mailsteamer for Stornoway, the Sheila is alongside at Kyle, but it very rapidly becomes clear that she has nowhere near enough space to accommodate the hundreds that want to go home to Lewis and Harris. So, a cable is sent to the naval base at Stornoway, and Rear Admiral Boyle sends HMY Iolaire to Kyle to relieve the congestion. Iolaire, the former private steamyacht Amalthea arrives in the early evening, bumping into the pier as she docks.

A disorganised scramble occurs, where the throng of men divides between the Sheila and the Iolaire. No record is kept as to who goes on board which vessel. Some start off by boarding the Iolaire, then switch to the Sheila. Others do the reverse swap. Finally, at half past seven, Iolaire casts off and heads north. The Sheila follows suit in short order.

 The year 1918 is drawing to a close and Big Ben in London is about to start striking the midnight hour. Six hundred miles to the north, HMY Iolaire is ploughing her way north through the Minch, passing between Raasay, Rona and the Scottish mainland. The weather, which had been reasonable upon departure from Kyle, is turning increasingly windy. A heavy swell is beginning to rise in response to the strong southerly wind. The lighthouses, which serve as reference points for mariners in the Minch, blink their messages to Iolaire. Milaid, on the rocky cliffs near Kebock Head; Rona; Tiumpan Head on the eastern extremity of the Point Peninsula; and Arnish, near the entrance to Stornoway Harbour.

In dozens of houses in Lewis, glasses are charged to the New Year. The last year of war is ending.
Dry clothes are draped over beds, a stew is heating over the fire. In the blackhouses in Ness, and the town houses of Stornoway. A kettle is at the ready on the stove. A plate, cutlery and cups on the table. From Eoropie to Brenish, from Lemreway to North Tolsta, and between Manor Park and Newton, the same scene is repeated over and over. Only two hours to go, the boat won't make Hogmanay. But it does not really matter, the boys will be home soon.

The clock strikes midnight. It is 1919.

Conditions in the Minch are now poor, and all on board Iolaire are glad that the journey is nearly over. The passengers, most of them familiar with the passage to Stornoway, are snoozing their way, lulled to slumber by the steady if roughish motion of the waves that Iolaire rides. The captain goes down below to rest, his second-in-command takes over on the bridge. A fishing boat is also on its way home to Stornoway, and is running a broadly parallel course to Iolaire.

The passengers can now see the lights of Stornoway ahead, as well as the familiar signal of the Arnish Lighthouse and its secondary beacon. All begin to stir and start to prepare for disembarkation, which is now only about a quarter of or half an hour away. But all is not well. The sound of waves striking shore becomes audible over the noise of wind and swell.

The next noise is a far greater one. Iolaire changes course abruptly, as the crew realise they have overshot the harbour entrance. But it is too late. At 1.55 am, the ship comes to a crashing halt on the rocks of the Beasts of Holm.

Iolaire was mortally damaged by her grounding, and would eventually slip from the rocks and sink into the depths beside the Beasts of Holm. Only her mast would be left showing above the waves.

Flares were let off, which were spotted by the fishing boat and the Sheila, which were running into Stornoway behind Iolaire. Conditions, however, were too severe for any direct help to be offered by any vessel, as they would place themselves into severe danger. One intrepid man managed to bring a hawser ashore, which was to become a literal lifeline for nearly four dozen souls. Others attempted to use the lifeboats, which were almost immediately swamped by the heavy swell, or smashed on the rocks nearby. For Iolaire only grounded about 50 yards from shore. Those who jumped into the sea drowned almost at once, or were smashed onto the rocks, left lifeless. A life-saving apparatus, a breeches' buoy, which had been brought from Stornoway, came way too late to be useful.

Some of those that survived made their way to Stoneyfield Farm, about half a mile from the scene of Iolaire's sinking, and their terrible news was relayed to Stornoway. The flares had been spotted from the town, but had been (mis)taken for celebratory rockets.

The houses waited. The stew over the fire, the teapot on the stove. The clothes on the bed, and the made up table. The families, friends and other islanders waited. Then news filtered through into, and from Stornoway. The Iolaire was lost. Several dozen had been saved. But so many more were not. A night of terrifying uncertainty drew on. Would he be among the saved?

It is early January, and daylight is still many hours away.

It is just after 9 o'clock, and the sun rises over the mountains of mainland Scotland. Its light sweeps west, and shows up a ship's mast protruding from the sea, only a few dozen yards from the shore of Holm Point. The figure of a man can be made out, as he holds on for dear life. As he has done for nigh upon seven hours. Others had been with him, but their strength had given out, and had fallen into the sea below. The man is saved from his precarious position. He had been one of about three hundred on board Iolaire who had left Kyle the evening before, expecting to arrive in Stornoway at 2 am. Instead, two hundred would never return home, and some sixty would never be retrieved.

A gruesome sight presented itself on the shores, beaches and rocky outcrops of eastern Lewis, around the bay of Stornoway. East to Knock, north to Sandwick and Stornoway, south to Grimshader. One hundred and forty bobbed on the tide, lost in the Iolaire. Those that could be retrieved were taken to the naval base at the Battery in Stornoway, to be identified and collected by family.

Those who had not yet had news of the tragedy would soon receive it, as elders of the church went round, the bearers of the news of loss. A brother, a father. An uncle, a nephew. A son, a cousin. No village was spared. No family who was not directly or indirectly affected. The stories abound, but are not readily told.

It is 2014, and dawn has broken on a new year. Five years ago, several hundred gathered at the little memorial at Holm Point to remember. It was a beautiful mild winter's day, with not a breath of wind. We looked south, across the Minch, where the jagged humps of the Shiants, the distant lines of Skye, and on a day of exceptional clarity, even the hills behind Kyle can be made out, 75 miles away. In this day and age, a short journey. In 1919, a journey that was never completed by two hundred and five souls.

Rest in peace.

A full listing of names can be found here

Postscript
The exact cause for the foundering of HMY Iolaire has never been fully cleared up, and theories abound. There are accusations of a cover-up by the Royal Navy, drunkenness on the part of the crew, and speculation on the factors played by the weather. It is not the object of this blog to apportion blame, or determine the exact cause for the tragedy. This is a tribute to the two hundred and five who perished at the Beasts of Holm that New Year's night in 1919.

95 years ago today - 09:00

It is just after 9 o'clock, and the sun rises over the mountains of mainland Scotland. Its light sweeps west, and shows up a ship's mast protruding from the sea, only a few dozen yards from the shore of Holm Point. The figure of a man can be made out, as he holds on for dear life. As he has done for nigh upon seven hours. Others had been with him, but their strength had given out, and had fallen into the sea below. The man is saved from his precarious position. He had been one of about three hundred on board Iolaire who had left Kyle the evening before, expecting to arrive in Stornoway at 2 am. Instead, two hundred would never return home, and some sixty would never be retrieved.

A gruesome sight presented itself on the shores, beaches and rocky outcrops of eastern Lewis, around the bay of Stornoway. East to Knock, north to Sandwick and Stornoway, south to Grimshader. One hundred and forty bobbed on the tide, lost in the Iolaire. Those that could be retrieved were taken to the naval base at the Battery in Stornoway, to be identified and collected by family.

Those who had not yet had news of the tragedy would soon receive it, as elders of the church went round, the bearers of the news of loss. A brother, a father. An uncle, a nephew. A son, a cousin. No village was spared. No family who was not directly or indirectly affected. The stories abound, but are not readily told.

It is 2013, and dawn has broken on a new year. Four years ago, several hundred gathered at the little memorial at Holm Point to remember. It was a beautiful mild winter's day, with not a breath of wind. We looked south, across the Minch, where the jagged humps of the Shiants, the distant lines of Skye, and on a day of exceptional clarity, even the hills behind Kyle can be made out, 75 miles away. In this day and age, a short journey. In 1919, a journey that was never completed by two hundred and five souls.

Rest in peace.

A full listing of names can be found here

95 years ago tonight - 03:00

Iolaire was mortally damaged by her grounding, and would eventually slip from the rocks and sink into the depths beside the Beasts of Holm. Only her mast would be left showing above the waves.

Flares were let off, which were spotted by the fishing boat and the Sheila, which were running into Stornoway behind Iolaire. Conditions, however, were too severe for any direct help to be offered by any vessel, as they would place themselves into severe danger. One intrepid man managed to bring a hawser ashore, which was to become a literal lifeline for nearly four dozen souls. Others attempted to use the lifeboats, which were almost immediately swamped by the heavy swell, or smashed on the rocks nearby. For Iolaire only grounded about 50 yards from shore. Those who jumped into the sea drowned almost at once, or were smashed onto the rocks, left lifeless. A life-saving apparatus, a breeches' buoy, which had been brought from Stornoway, came way too late to be useful.

Some of those that survived made their way to Stoneyfield Farm, about half a mile from the scene of Iolaire's sinking, and their terrible news was relayed to Stornoway. The flares had been spotted from the town, but had been (mis)taken for celebratory rockets.

The houses waited. The stew over the fire, the teapot on the stove. The clothes on the bed, and the made up table. The families, friends and other islanders waited. Then news filtered through into, and from Stornoway. The Iolaire was lost. Several dozen had been saved. But so many more were not. A night of terrifying uncertainty drew on. Would he be among the saved?

It is early January, and daylight is still many hours away.

To be continued.

95 years ago today - 01:55

Conditions in the Minch are now poor, and all on board Iolaire are glad that the journey is nearly over. The passengers, most of them familiar with the passage to Stornoway, are snoozing their way, lulled to slumber by the steady if roughish motion of the waves that Iolaire rides. The captain goes down below to rest, his second-in-command takes over on the bridge. A fishing boat is also on its way home to Stornoway, and is running a broadly parallel course to Iolaire.

The passengers can now see the lights of Stornoway ahead, as well as the familiar signal of the Arnish Lighthouse and its secondary beacon. All begin to stir and start to prepare for disembarkation, which is now only about a quarter of or half an hour away. But all is not well. The sound of waves striking shore becomes audible over the noise of wind and swell.

The next noise is a far greater one. Iolaire changes course abruptly, as the crew realise they have overshot the harbour entrance. But it is too late. At 1.55 am, the ship comes to a crashing halt on the rocks of the Beasts of Holm.