Remembering Great-Uncle Aly

On or about this day one hundred years ago, my Grannie's half-brother died. I know just a few facts about his life. Born out of wedlock and brought up by his grandparents at their corn mill on the North Esk in Angus, at some point he travelled to Burmah (as he spelled it), and set up a rice-mill.

The outbreak of war in 1914 led to the collapse of his business. I inherited some letters and photographs which describe what happened then.

Aged nearly 50 and almost broke, he volunteered as an artillery man and was sent to Mesepotamia (Iraq), where he was part of the British and Indian force besieged by the Turks at Kut. Starvation led them to surrender, and those who survived were very badly treated. Aly didn't make it home to Scotland. He died of wounds and disease a few days after the capitulation.

As far as I know he never married and had a family. These are some of the few things that survive of him. His last letter home to his mother is one - 'I am a ruined man'. How must he have felt when he wrote those words? On a brighter note he describes how he and his fellow Scots volunteers in Rangoon kitted themselves up with kilts in which to parade. Rest in Peace.