Dulce
et Decorum Est
Peter Johnstone signed for Celtic from
Glencraig Celtic and proved to be an excellent player in various positions.
Willie Maley had constructed an excellent Celtic team in the early years of the
twentieth century and it brought many honours to Glasgow’s east end. The ‘six
in a row’ side (1905-10) was one of the finest in Celtic’s history and Peter
slotted in among legends such as Patsy Gallagher, ‘Sunny’ Jim Young, Andy
McAtee and Jimmy Quinn. A confident and self-assured player, Peter was
similarly confident off the field. Willie Maley could be an imposing figure, a
man who could strike fear into the hearts of lesser men but Peter Johnstone was
one player who had the courage to argue his case with the autocratic manager.
Maley may have had many verbal spats with the big Fifer but he was never in
doubt about his talent or his usefulness to the team. Peter Johnstone helped
Celtic to four titles, two Scottish Cups as well as many other honours during
his time with the club. He took part in the ‘World Championship’ matches with
Burnley in Budapest in the fateful summer of 1914. Celtic drew 1-1 and then defeated
Burnley 2-0 in England to claim a trophy which due to the sweeping tides of
history wasn’t delivered to Celtic Park for 74 years. It is fair to say that
the Celtic team of that era was probably the best side in the world at the time
and Peter played a major part in the successes they enjoyed. The fans adored
the big Fifer and Peter rewarded them with many excellent displays in the
Hoops. However as war clouds gathered in 1914, things were about to take a very
different turn for the club and indeed the whole country.
The first two years of the war saw volunteer
battalions flood into the forces and this precluded the need for conscription.
However as the casualty lists lengthened few were in any doubt that
conscription was sure to be introduced. In 1916 conscription duly arrived and
by the end of the war 1 in 4 of the male Population of Britain and Ireland had
fought in the war. Peter Johnstone worked in the mines as well as turning out
for Celtic and this could have continued until the end of the war as mining was
a protected occupation. However, he was of a mind to enlist before being
drafted into the forces and despite Willie Maley using his considerable powers
of persuasion, he did so in March 1916. Initially he was kept away from the
fighting to play football for his Regimental team and even took the train north
to play for Celtic as late as October 1916. Soon enough though his request to
join a fighting Battalion was accepted and he found himself in the mud and
blood of the western front.
The assault on the chemical factory at
Fampaux in April and May 1917 involved Scottish, Irish and South African
Soldiers. Peter Johnstone found himself facing a fortified position bristling
with over 30 German Machine guns. One history of the battle gives a flavour of
the situation he and his comrades faced as they advanced…
‘They
were seen immediately, probably by spotters from the German 31st regiment who
have climbed a 60 foot chimney, or by a German recce plane that had registered
them. They were subjected to long range machine gun fire from the Chemical
Works and when they were joined by the Royal Irish Fusiliers in the road they
were shelled. After what seemed an eternity they were off showing great
courage, presenting as perfect targets to the Germans, silhouetted in their
khaki battledress and Mackenzie kilts against the snow.Artillery had been
scheduled to support them, but from the off it was of absolutely no value
to the woefully exposed men. It did not land on the Germans at all and not a
shell was seen to land in the Chemical works. Despite the apparent futility of
the action the men of the Seaforth Highlanders and the Royal Irish Fusiliers
pressed on against 30 machine guns, in a display of extraordinary courage.’’
In the aftermath of the slaughter one officer
bitterly complained about the futility of throwing infantry against entrenched
enemy positions without effective support. He concluded his report by stating….
"The total losses sustained by the
battalion were 12 officers and 363 other ranks out of a total of 12 officers
and 420 other ranks who took part in the attack. I leave these losses to
speak for the gallantry of all ranks."
When news of Peter
Johnstone’s death filtered back to Scotland there was genuine shock and grief.
He was in his own way a celebrity of the time and it hit home that this war was indeed going to consume so many of the brightest
and best. Willie Maley was particularly affected by the news of Peter’s
passing. The tough Celtic Manager was said to have cried and entered a period
of melancholy which we might call today depression. Peter left a wife and two
children behind when he died and Maley made a point of travelling to Fife and
ensuring they were adequately cared for. It was the least he could do for ‘Big
Peter’ the courageous big Celt who had the gall to argue with him.
Peter Johnstone was
only one of over 10 million soldiers who lost their lives in that deadly
conflict we call the Great War. Like so many others he was hastily buried in an
unmarked grave. Today he is remembered not just on the war memorial at Fauborg d'Amiens but also by Celtic fans who know their
history. Other Celts perished too in the ‘war to end all wars’ and on this
centenary we remember them all.
As
World War 1 leaves folk memory and enters history, it can be difficult for the
younger generation to grasp the scale of industrialised slaughter it brought. Perhaps
the poet, Wilfred Owen, himself killed a week before the war ended, sums up the
horror of world war one best...
Dulce et Decorum Est
Bent
double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed,
coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till
on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And
towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men
marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But
limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk
with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of
tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas!
Gas! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting
the clumsy helmets just in time;
But
someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And
flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim,
through the misty panes and thick green light,
As
under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In
all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He
plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If
in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind
the wagon that we flung him in,
And
watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His
hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If
you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come
gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene
as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of
vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My
friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To
children ardent for some desperate glory,
The
old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro
patria mori.
Rest in Peace Peter and thank you for all you
did for Celtic. Perhaps a fitting memorial to you and all the victims of such conflicts
would be an end to the obscenity of war forever. Sadly, 100 years after the beginning of the war
to end all wars it still seems a long way off.
Peter
Johnstone (1887-1917)
Husband,
Father, Celt.
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