John Robert (Jock) McGruther
Written by David Bell
| 1915 ~ 1944 | ||
| Uncle
Jock, as we all know him, is without doubt our family hero, even though he
died long before most of us were born. At this writing (February 2014) Colin
Bell would be the only surviving family member to have living memories of
him. But so legendary is he to our family history that we all feel a close
connection to him and still affectionately refer to him as 'Uncle Jock'. In
death - as he was in life - he is still an important part of the family.
Jock
was born 25 June, 1915 to John Honi Ruki Pohepohe McGruther and Daisy Mary Te
Kurawhakairi Ormsby at Tamahere New Zealand and named John Robert - John
after his father and Robert after his grandfather Robert McGruther. He was
the first of 6 children, the other five being Moana Joy who died as an
infant, the twins who were stillborn, Colin who was born at Waerengahika near
Gisborne, and lastly Jean, also born at Waerengahika.
 
Jock
was five years old (1920) when he moved with his parents to Waerengahika, a
school about eight miles from Gisborne. His father had secured a teaching job
at the Waerengahika boarding school for Maori boys. He was too young to be a
pupil at his father's school so he attended the small nearby Waerengahika
primary school. Then in 1924 the family embarked on a life-changing adventure;
his parents obtained positions on the island of Mangaia in the Cooks group;
his father as the head teacher over the three island schools and his mother
as the island nurse.
 
Above: Jock and Colin outside Puketotara in their Kings School uniforms.
Jock lived for three glorious years on Mangaia living like a native. It was a young boy's paradise. The three children immersed themselves in the island life and became fluent speakers of the local tongue. Jock and the family returned to New Zealand in 1927 when his parent's first furlough came due. Sadly for Jock and Colin, they would not return to Mangaia after the holiday. Instead they were enrolled into the prestigious King's College in Auckland. Only Jean went back with her parents and then only because she came down with a serious illness, otherwise she too would have been shipped off to boarding school. .JPG)
Jock (near left) on a school outing
Jock
did well at King's College. He was a studious and diligent student, excelling
academically as well as on the sports field. A quote from an article in the
King's College Courier (2009) written by Major W. G. Caughey, a King's
College student from 1933 to 1938, gives an insight as to how well respected
Jock was by his fellow students:
Jock McGruther was one of these heroes; he continues:
Jock
was a quiet, confident leader who earned great respect from the boys in the
House. He was Head of House in 1933 and his fine example ensured that the
House ran smoothly. In 1934 Jock was Head Boy of the College, played for the
1st XV Rugby team and was awarded the Foster Prize. In 1935 he taught at
King's School and attended Auckland University.
Major Caughey
commented further on Jock's military history but more will be said on this
later.
.
Below: Kings College
in its early days
From an
early age Jock had a serious and conscientious disposition; he seemed very
mature for one so young. These traits showed during his time at Kings College
where he displayed a strong sense of responsibility toward all aspects of his
education. He had a very spiritual side to his nature and was a devout
attender at chapel and communion and received his King's College Confirmation
under the hands of the Archbishop of New Zealand on 23 June 1929. In 1935 he
finished his studies at King's and attended the Auckland University. While
studying at university he also did some teaching at King's School.
.JPG)
Jock, Head Boy at King's College 1933
In 1936
he decided to suspend his university studies to attend to a problem back on
the family farm at Puketotara. This was the farm that his pioneering
grandparents, Arthur and Matire (Matilda) Ormsby had broken in from the bush
over many years. Puketotara is a rural district about ten miles south of
Pirongia on the road to Kawhia. It consisted of about three hundred acres of
pasture and a fine old Victorian-style homestead. Grandfather Arthur had died
in 1926 and Granny Matire in 1935. Before Matire died she bequeathed the farm
to Daisy and John. They, of course, were in Mangaia and weren't due to return
until 1937 when their final contract terminated. John hired a manager to run
the farm but things weren't going to plan. The farm was becoming run down and
stock and equipment was disappearing. It was one of Daisy's sisters who
alerted him to the situation and it was clear that it needed urgent attention
before everything was gone. Knowing what the farm meant to his family he
returned to Puketotara and set about restoring it. He was joined by his
younger sister Jean at the end of 1936 after she finished her years at Queen
Victoria Boarding School. The farm was where his parents intended to spend
their retirement.
John
and Daisy came home in 1937 amid much joy and rejoicing. With them they
brought a shipload of artefacts, objects d'art, gifts, and valuable documents
and old books. Sadly, nearly all of these were lost in a devastating fire
many years later. John's fifteen years of experience on Mangaia, where he
rose to become the New Zealand Government's Resident Agent, made him a
valuable commodity and he was offered government positions but he turned them
down in favour of farming Puketotara.
Above: An aerial view of the Puketotara
district as it is today.
They
were happy times with the family together again after so many years of
separation. But the happy times were not to last long; the clouds of war were
gathering above the whole country. Germany was on the rampage through Europe
and Great Britain had been drawn into it and was seeking assistance from the
Commonwealth. New Zealand was staunchly behind the motherland so it wasn't
long before the call for soldiers went out. Jock and his brother Colin
enlisted and were immediately sent to Narrow Neck Military Camp for officer
training in 1939. Thus began Jock's career that was to last from 1939 to his
death in Italy in 1944.
.JPG)
When
the training was completed Jock received his commission as a Lieutenant
assigned to the Eighteenth Battalion, thirty-fourth anti-tank battery, to
serve in the
Middle
East and stationed in Egypt.
There
was a great sense of mission, going to war to serve your country and fight
for the freedom and liberty of your people, and the family had great pride in
its two valiant boys resplendent in their officers’ uniforms. It all seemed
like a great and noble adventure. It was not long before everyone began to
realise just how ignoble it was and how great the price of such an adventure.
Nevertheless, Jock and Colin began their service full of youthful enthusiasm
and determination. They wrote home from the front regularly. A few
chosen letters from Jock give some insights into his life as soldier in Egypt
early in the war. The following is an excerpt from the book, Waireti (pages
138 to 151), a biography of his sister Jean Waireti. Please be aware that the
book was written in first person style, as if it were Jean telling her own
story. It was written, however, by her son David after her passing.
AT
FIRST My brothers’ letters were filled with descriptions of sights and
experiences they never dreamed possible only a few months ago. Jock was fascinated
by Egypt, immersing himself as often as he could in the culture and
history of that exotic, ancient land. But, for all its history and culture,
it was a hot, dry place and a world away from the rolling green pastures of
the Waikato. In the place of green hills stretched endless plains of sand;
except along the Nile where the rich, fertile silt sustained a
profusion of horticultural abundance. Instead of the
cool Waikato rain he sweltered under a fiery desert sun that heated
the air until it seemed almost too hot to breathe. When it did rain it was
invariably a deluge that lay in great floods upon the dry sand, and when the
winds came billowing in from the desert they carried with them countless
tonnes of sand which blacked out the sun and covered everything in grit. In
one of his earlier letters home he wrote:
Dear
People, just
a line to let you know we are still fit and well – at least I am and from all
reports Colin is too. We are still in the desert and have experienced several
dust storms during the last week. One is just dying down now. The other day
our tent was covered in dust and on my bed it was three inches deep and when
we cleaned the place out we had to shovel the stuff into boxes. It’s great
fun and puts everyone in the best of tempers – I don’t think. However, I had
to laugh when I came into the tent after lunch and saw the heap of dust on my
bed. I wouldn't mind seeing a few grass paddocks now – just for a
change.
In another he wrote:
Dear
People, just a line for Christmas and to thank you very much for your letters
and papers. It was good to get news of the farm and to hear that all was
well. Jean said that there were quite a few cows with hard quarters, though.
They will have to be watched. By Jove, I wouldn't mind a drop of fresh milk
for a change. We have tinned milk and water. It’s not bad, however. Lately we
have been getting Aussie butter which is quite good. Before that we had
margarine. It’s pretty foul on its own but on hot toast it’s not bad at all.
I bought a primus and when we go out in the desert it is jolly handy...I
haven’t seen Colin for a long time but from all reports he is quite well. I
hope to see him during the next few days...I myself am very well. The weather
is quite cold now and we feel it because our blood is getting thinner. I
bought myself a good greatcoat the other day and it’s a great investment. You
have no idea how cold it is when you are sleeping out in the desert. I nearly
froze the other night. We were nearly washed out by a rainstorm a
couple of days ago. All the tents that were dug down in wadis were filled
with water about three feet deep and the day after we had a bad dust storm.
I’d rather have the rain...Christmas will soon be here now and I think it
will be a peaceful one for us. Anyhow, the chaps are preparing for it...most
of the companies are piling stuff up for dinner...Well dears, I must go
to work now, so cheerio for the present. Thanks so much for the wire. It was a
beauty – a real farm one. Happy birthday, Mother, and a merry Christmas and a
happy new year to you all. Love from Jock. 2699 2/Lt., J.R. McGruther, 18th Bn.,
N.Z.E.F. Middle East Force.
In
return the boys loved getting letters from home and in those days letter
writing was the predominant form of long distance communication. My soldier
brothers particularly enjoyed news of the farm no matter how trivial. In
another letter one sees how important letters were to them and I often
wondered how lonely it must have been for soldiers who didn’t receive much
communication from home. It wasn’t so with our family, we were prolific
letter writers. Jock wrote:
Dear
People, Just a short note to thank you very much for your last letters which
arrived this weekend. One was written from Otorohanga (Jean’s and Mother’s)
and the other from Te Awamutu while you were waiting for football,
Daddy...Both Colin and I are very well at present. We are at Maadi. The boys
have been having a great weekend after being in the desert. By Jove, it was
great to get back to a bit of green country after all the dust out there. To
make things better there was mail waiting for us here. At present the air
mail service is very good. Even out in the desert we are getting one mail a
week.
Egypt is a wonderful country for agriculture. The ground always seems to have something green in it. As we go to Cairo in the train we can see green corn standing from eight to ten feet high. Also, we can see cotton being picked. I’m finding it very hard to write tonight as everyone is talking around me. My mind is wandering from the subject. I haven’t done much this weekend except go out to dinner with Alan Pyatt at our millionaire friend’s home. We had a very pleasant evening and went to the pictures after that. The late session starts at about ten here which is good because people don’t have dinner until about eight thirty p.m. Oh, I forgot to tell you of one of my latest achievements, I can open a beer bottle with a tin hat, tobacco tin etc. Not bad for me, eh? I’m glad to see the football is going well and that you have been elected president, Daddy. I suppose if things don’t happen we may be playing here in a couple of months. The trouble is that it’s not much good playing in the sand because it gets right up into your lungs. Well dears, I haven’t much news to tell you so I’ll close now. Cheerio for the present and love to you all. Your loving son and brother, Jock.
Sometimes
the letters from home were slow arriving:
Dear Mother and Daddy, It is now over three months since I have received any mail from home...I got resigned to the fact there is no mail each week when the other chaps get their mail. Now I’ve pounded out my feelings on the matter, I’ll give you what news I can. I am very fit and well at present. I haven’t seen Colin for some time but he was quite well when I last saw him. The weather is very hot at present, especially in the afternoons. We work in the morning only and in the afternoon we either sleep or go down to the baths for a swim. There is a very delightful sporting club in Maadi and most of the officers have joined it. Our sub is about seven shillings a month which is very cheap for all the benefits we get. There is a very nice club house with lawns and trees all around. There are tennis courts, squash courts, bowling greens, cricket and football grounds, a swimming bath, hot and cold showers, and lovely flower gardens. I go down there for a couple of hours as often as I can in order to get a change from camp life. You ought to see the array of beauty down at the baths, too. There are really beautiful women in Egypt. I've not spoken to one ever since I've been here. Owing to the hot weather it has been decided to have regular outings for each unit. We have picnics about the middle of each week. The week before last we went to the barrage, one of the irrigation contact points for the Nile. It was a great trip about twenty five miles from Maadi and we passed through cultivated areas all along the way there. We saw the primitive methods of irrigation by buckets, by water wheels with bullocks walking round and round, and by a couple of men turning a cylinder with a spiral-way inside so the water travels from the bottom to the top. The barrage itself is a great feat of engineering. It controls the level of the Nile and if it were to break down Egypt would be properly in the soup.
There
are beautiful gardens and lawns on the islands in this area and we had a
great picnic. Last, we went to the Grotto Aquarium ...this is a large
artificial cave in a park and houses all kinds of fish. We had a nice quiet
day there too. There are some beautiful homes on the island and also one of
the most exclusive clubs in the world. Last night Alan Pyatt and I went to
the home of a millionaire. It was terribly hot outside and I was sweating
like a pig. As soon as we got into the sitting room we noticed the difference
in temperature. The room was air cooled and conditioned. Mrs Aboud, the lady
of the house, and her daughter were there and they were very nice and made us
feel at home immediately. We were invited for drinks and after we had been
there a while the lady from next door and an English officer friend came
in...Mrs Aboud asked us to take pot luck and stay for supper (I chuckled at
the pot luck; it was a four course meal).We had a very interesting evening.
Mrs Aboud married an Egyptian Pasha and is a very fine character. She has
travelled a great deal and knows much of the inside workings of big business
and politics.
Well
dears, how are you all? You know, every time I go into Cairo past
the cultivations and see the corn and all the crops I can’t help thinking of
the poor old cows at home and how hard it is to milk them. It is a marvellous
country for growth here, by Jove, and do the fellahin work! If we
worked as hard in N.Z. the place would be a paradise for the farmers to gaze
on. The more I go about this place the more I marvel at the riches of
the Nile valley. Egypt really is a wonderful country for
all its heat and smells.
How are
Jean, Peter, little Peter and Maki? I was thrilled at that passage about the
little chap in your cable. You should see how some of our great big burly
chaps play around with the little children when we are on a picnic. I suppose
it makes them a bit homesick too.
How are all the relatives? I suppose you people are feeling the pinch now. We are going to have a lot more to face up to before we are clear of this mess. Europe is going to have a very hard winter this year and the dominions will have to go eyes out to keep England in supplies. Well dears, I must close now, with love to you all. God bless you. Your loving son, Jock. 2699 2/Lt J.R. McGruther, 18th Bn.
Jock
was what I might term religious in a balanced way, for want of a better
description. He took his faith quite seriously and was sensitive to spiritual
things. Even during his high school years at Kings College he
was a faithful attendee at chapel and other matters of religion, so it is no
surprise that with his posting to the Middle East he jumped at the
opportunity to experience the history and culture of the Holy Land. In a
fascinating letter dated April the first, nineteen forty one he wrote:
Dear
People, I
received my first mail today, one from you, Daddy, and one from Vernon
Jackson. It was great to hear from you and to hear that you were well.
I have been to Tel Aviv, the newest Jewish city here. It is on the sea coast and quite a nice place. Do you remember reading in the papers where the captains of two refugee ships had beached their ships in order to land their passengers? I saw the ships about fifty yards from the shore. You see Arabs here with their long white headdresses and flowing white robes riding camels and donkeys. I saw a big Arab in his native dress riding a beautiful grey horse the other day. It was a fine sight. You ought to see the loads the little mules carry, too. You see a big man with his feet dangling almost to the ground and sometimes carrying a couple of full sacks too. They usually sit right on the rump.
Next
Sunday I hope to go to Jerusalem. I had planned to go on Easter Sunday
but I couldn’t go at the last minute. The other chaps who went had a most
interesting time. They went into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre then saw
the Jews at the Wailing Wall and many other interesting sights connected with
Easter.
I went
later on in the morning to Tel Aviv. We had quite an interesting day. We got
our taxi to drive through the Arab town of Jaffa on the way. It is
something like Cairo with its native bazaars. Tel Aviv itself is
quite a westernized town except that everything is so square. All the houses
are square with flat roofs. The place is full of Jews from all
over Europe.
We did a bit of shopping, went for a walk along the beach and spent the afternoon at the pictures. In both Egypt and Palestine French is the most common language besides Arabic and you can get anywhere if you can speak French. However, in the pictures here you see three languages printed on the screen. English is spoken and French is printed underneath.
By
Jove, it’s great to be in a place where you can look out on green trees and green
wheat fields after being in the desert. I see by your letter that you have
had a very wet season. I wish we could have had some of your rain. The sand
of the desert is full of dust and when the winds blow it’s awful. We had two
very wet days when we first arrived here and it was a treat. It’s raining
again tonight and the atmosphere is being cleared a bit after some very hot
weather.
You
people don’t know what a good country New Zealand is until you get
out here. The East is very interesting but I can’t say I’m in love with the
place. I just stopped for a moment to deal with a couple of flying beetles
which had settled on my bed.
My roommate is an Englishman and is a jolly decent sort. He thinks England is the only place in the world. I argue with him and tell him New Zealand is. By Jove, I often think of you people and wish I were home with the old cows. It’s good to hear you have the paddocks fenced off and the turnips have taken well. I hope the hay pans out well too.
How are
all the neighbours? Give my love to them will you please? How’s the little
chap? I often think of him. I suppose he will be talking soon. Well
dears, I’ll sign off for tonight, cheerio for the present and love to you
all, Jock.
In
another letter dated July the eleventh he enthralled us with some more of his
experiences in Palestine.
I told
you in my last letter that I hoped to go to Jerusalem last Sunday.
Well, I got there alright. It was a lovely day. I went with an Australian and
an Englishman. We got a taxi to take us to the bus stop where another car
gave us a lift right into Jerusalem. The road is tar-sealed all the way
and there is room for two big buses to pass each other quite comfortably. The
bends, however, have Kawhia Road licked into a cocked hat! Jerusalem is
about three thousand feet above sea level too. The country up in the
hills is very barren with practically no vegetation.
Jerusalem itself is divided into two parts, the old city and the new. The new city is like Tel Aviv or any other modern town, but the old city is most interesting.
We were
on our way to find out something about the place and a guide came up and said
he would take us around for twelve shillings so we accepted. He took us down
past the Citadel at the Jaffa Gate into the old part of the city.
Then we went down a street about seven or eight feet wide and closed in on
top. On either side there were stalls of all sorts of goods. We went a
little way down this then our guide took us off into another side street
which was in the Christian-Jewish quarters. It was also narrow with a bazaar.
The next turning we took found us going down cobbled steps, very slippery and
worn with age. One more turn and we were at the entrance to the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre. There is huge scaffolding around the building which was put
up after an earthquake which endangered the dome.
The
place itself is very dingy and unimpressive to look at and not at all clean
like our own churches. It is owned by five different sects. As soon as we
entered there was a strong smell of incense. Our guide showed us the position
of the cross on Calvary. We saw all the Stations of the Cross right from
the beginning. We saw the crack in the rock which was supposed to have been
caused by the earthquake at the crucifixion. We saw the actual prison in
which Jesus was held, the very seat in which he was chained to the wall, and
the holes in which he had to place his legs. The prison of the two thieves
was underneath. Next, we saw the tomb of Joseph of Aramathea. Finally we saw
the sepulchre. When we first went into the church the Armenians were
having their service and the procession was chanting its way around the
sepulchre. After we left the church we were taken down the streets which are
about eight feet above the old level to the Station of the Cross. Finally we
ended up at the second Station in the street of Ecce Homo. This was a French
convent and I thought it was the only church in which there was a holy
atmosphere. A Sister took us into the church of Ecce
Homo first and we sat down in silence for a while. Then she spoke to us
for a few minutes. There was quite a big party of soldiers at this stage.
Then she took us underneath and down to the old Roman barracks and the actual
second Station of the Cross and then over a road that led up to Calvary.
Here she got everyone to kneel down and pray for those at home.
Our
guide then took us up on the roof and showed us
the Garden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives in the
distance. Next we went to lunch at a hotel and in the afternoon went out
to Bethlehem and on the way stopped at the Tomb of Rachel.
We
entered the Church of the Nativity by a very small entrance about four feet
high. There we saw the stable and the place where Jesus was born. We
also saw the manger. The church itself was built in 300 A.D.
It was
a great day for us and we came away with very mixed feelings. If you look
below the surface or think back over a trip like we had, it can create a
profound impression. But the feeling we all had as soon as we had
seen the holy places was one of disappointment. I bought a little Testament
in Bethlehem and I have been reading it in order to piece together
the different stages of my trip that day. At the time I said I didn’t want to
go back to Jerusalem but now I would very much like to do it with a
good guide. Well dears, I must be off to bed now so cheerio for the present.
God bless you all.
Your loving son Jock.
There
were many letters like these; always interesting, always of good things. I
devoured every word and thrilled at the new and wonderful things he was
experiencing. I fretted when his letters were late and hoped mine reached him
in good time, the mail to and from the front not always constant. He never
complained of the hardships and dangers he encountered at the front, but I
knew his life in the Middle East wasn't all about ten foot high
corn and beautiful gardens along the Nile. Or about trips around
the Holy Land, officers clubs and beautiful Egyptian women he could
admire but not touch. Neither was it a parade of picnics, parties, and four
course dinners at the Pasha’s air conditioned mansion. I was well aware he
faced all the dangers of combat, rumbling across the desert in a great metal
machine that could at any time become his coffin.
Jock
saw action in Crete, Greece, and Italy. While in Crete he was severely
wounded and was sent to a field hospital for over a month before being
repatriated back to New Zealand to complete his recovery. He received his
injury around the twenty sixth of May, nineteen forty one. In a letter from
his hospital bed he wrote:
Dear
little sister, it’s great to get your letters so regularly. They are a real
tonic. I suppose you know by now I am in hospital. However, I am making very
rapid progress and my wound is healing up nicely. It was one month on Monday
since I was hit. I managed to survive Greece and the fighting part
of Crete. It was when we were moving out during the day that a couple of
M.E. 110 fighters attacked us. We lost a lot of men killed and wounded. I was
lucky, I got one in the left arm above the elbow and it went right through
missing the bone.
Greece was bad enough from the air but Crete was absolute hell. Our chaps were machine gunned from the ground and mortared, and they were bombed and machine gunned from the air. I was pretty lucky, I lost only two men. The boys were marvelous and have been all through their actions.
The
parachute landings were a wonderful sight. For several days beforehand the
enemy planes came over and bombed and machine gunned the area where their
troops were to be dropped. On the morning of the landing we had just finished
our breakfast when the bombers came over in force and strafed the
area. Then came troop carriers and gliders. The air was full of planes.
Then the troops dropped out from about three hundred feet. It was a marvelous
sight. A lot of them never got to the ground alive and all in our area were
cleaned out.
The
navy saved us again. I can’t sing their praises enough. They had been having
a tougher spin than we had and yet they couldn’t do enough for us when we got
aboard.
I suppose you know that Colin is at O.C.T.U. now. He has to have a four month
course. I am pretty certain he will do well. He has been to see me several
times since I've been back.
I've been spoiled here in hospital. They are all very kind to the
patients. There are three of us in our room, two Majors and ‘self all from 4th Brigade.
We have a great time. We've made arrangements to take three of
the Sisters out to dinner when we are better. They are great sorts.
Well,
dear, I must close now. Thanks so much for your letters which I don’t
deserve. God bless you all.
Your
loving brother, Jock.
Dear
Little Sister, I am on the eve of coming home for a spell. It will be
six months before my arm will be fit again. The wound is practically healed
but the wrist refuses to function. Just keep it to the family. Jock. (End of quotations from
the book, Waireti).
Above: The formal letter from
Wellington confirming his return.
He
didn't have to return to the front lines; his wounding was sufficient to
allow him to see the rest of the war out at home, but he was desperate to get
back to be with his comrades. He returned to the Second N.Z.E.F. fighting
front in January 1944 and was posted to the 24th Battalion as a company
Commander with the rank of Major.
It was a fateful decision; he was killed in action just seven months later on 14 July, 1944. The circumstances of his death were sketchy. It wasn't until sometime after the war a clearer account was given by R.M. Burdon in his book, Official History of 24 Battalion. In it we read:
Jock
was killed in action at Monte Camurcina (south west
of Florence). At this point in the war the 2 New
Zealand Division was attempting to dislodge the enemy which was standing
firm south of Arezzo in order to delay the advance up
the Arno valley. In June, 2 Battalion had advanced through Sora and
Captain McGruther, commanding C Company, had occupied a castle dominating
Sora. In July, 2 New Zealand Division joined the concentration of
forces in the push north. By 13 July C Company was moving forward towards
Monte Camurcina, half way between Lignano and Cavadenti and Major McGruther
installed his advanced company headquarters in a house near the summit of
Mt. Camurcina. On the morning of 14 July the headquarters was being
heavily mortared from about 7 am. Shortly before 10 am Major McGruther was
badly wounded by shellfire. Sergeant Thompson promptly came up from the RAP
to carry him out, only to find on arrival that he had died in the meantime.
The second-in-command, Captain Casling-Cottle took over the company.
My
grandfather was seriously wounded by the same shell that mortally wounded Jock.
His name was Lance Corporal Jack Ryland Franks
|
I
always remember the wound in his bicep where the shrapnel went through and
lodged near his heart. It remained there the rest of his life and eventually
contributed to his death
The story my grandmother
tells is the Germans were shooting the roof off the house they were sheltering
in and Jock had just ordered granddad to go to battalion headquarters to let
them know what was happening when the shell landed.
Obviously
I never knew Jock but I loved and respected my granddad immensely, and I know he
respected Jock as well because his death was always remembered.
.JPG)
The dreaded telegram informing the
family of Jock's death
John
Robert McGruther was a man of great courage, a man that will never be
forgotten. This man was my great-uncle...Uncle Jock was twenty nine years of
age when he was killed in action, and it was a tragic loss to all those who
knew him. He was a man of courage and determination who fought bravely for
his country. He brought honour to his small farming community, his family and
most of all to himself. He is a man who I think has made a big difference. He
will never be forgotten, his memories and heroic story will live on forever
through the generations of my family.
In
doing this project I have found out a great deal about my uncle, someone of
great significance to my family, whom I never really took the time to learn
about before. Through his example my Nana (his little sister Jean) has
insisted on teaching her children the importance of hard work and courage.
These teachings have in turn been passed on through the generations therefore
having, in some small way, an influence on myself.
Major Jock McGruther was laid to rest at the Assisi War Cemetery in Italy. His first grave was marked by a simple cross but later was shifted to its permanent site where it remains to this day with a white marble headstone. .JPG)  The Assisi War Cemetery is situated in a peaceful and picturesque valley with a backdrop of green hills. Jock's grave is listed as grave 1, plot 6, row 4 .JPG)
Above: A view of the Assisi cemetery
with the hills in the background.
.JPG)
The
loss of our Uncle Jock in the prime of his life is testimony to the waste and
stupidity of war. Not only did his death cause immense grief and suffering
for his parents, family and others, it also deprived future generations the
blessings and benefits they could have obtained from a man who by all reports
was an exceptional human being, leaving us to wonder what might have
been.
Thus ends this report on John Robert McGruther. His body could not be brought home to rest in his beloved home soil. Instead, he rests in Italy where he fell defending our liberty.
End
|
.JPG)
No comments:
Post a Comment