Kindly written by John Gillies, son of Norman John Gillies. When my father, Norman John Gillies, was born on St Kilda in house number 15 there was silence. There was not the usual cry that accompanies most babies when they are born. Frantically they tried putting him from cold water to hot to stimulate some sort of response but it was no good, his grandmother Annie said "there's no breath in him, lie him down".

Born in May 1925 to John and Mary Gillies (nee MacQueen) no doubt they had expected life to continue as it had always done. Their son would grow up on this craggy outcrop they called home and become an experienced fowler, cragsman and crofter. However, as often happens in life, things don't always pan out the way we think or hope. Within five years life was to change drastically and dramatically not only for Norman John but for his 35 fellow St Kildans. When his parents were children the population had been almost twice that number. I suppose, therefore, they must have had some sort of inkling that things might change. Surely life could not go on the same with fewer and fewer young men and women to do the necessary work. However, like us, if the threat of redundancy and losing our job arises we carry on as normal thinking and hoping that it will never happen. In 1930 it did happen to them. With consultation and all things considered, they thought it best to leave. We cannot begin to imagine how they all felt on that August day when they had to leave their home and their island for good.

For my grandfather, John Gillies, life had already dealt a harsh blow. His pregnant wife, Mary, had become ill in the February of 1930 with suspected appendicitis and was taken to Stobhill Hospital in Glasgow. Norman's most vivid memory is of standing on the jetty and waving to his mother as she was being rowed out to the boat anchored in Village Bay. Complications must have set in as his father John stayed on to be with her. He was given a job in Glasgow by his uncle, AG Ferguson, by then a fairly wealthy tweed merchant. The baby was delivered by caesarian section on 13 May. Unfortunately only thirteen days later his mother, aged just 35, died and baby Annie also.

Dreams of a new and better life on the mainland turned out to be a bit of a nightmare at first for Norman John, his father and grandmother whose first home was a small, isolated cottage at Ardness overlooking the Sound of Mull. The cottage got flooded several times and, after writing to the Secretary of State for Scotland, they finally got moved, in February 1931, to Larachbeg, where there were other exiled St Kildans. Dad was educated at a school about a mile away affectionately known as Claggan 'Academy'. His teacher throughout was, apparently, a very gracious lady by the name of Miss Robertson. She would ask a question in English and Norman John would reply in Gaelic! This part of Morvern in Argyllshire is dense forest and Larachbeg is neither a town nor even a village but merely a row of six terraced cottages. Claggan a building standing almost completely by itself in the middle of nowhere! My father walked to school each day having already walked about a mile to collect the day's milk. He often tells me that on the way home they would pick a turnip from a field and chomp on its sweet flesh like we would on an apple.

There are no trees on St Kilda so it seems a little ironic that now, surrounded by them, they were given jobs by the Forestry Commission. Leaving school at fourteen, dad first worked in a saw mill on the Ardtornish Estate, then at a sand mine and finally with the Forestry Commission. His father remarried in 1937 to Mary Ann MacLeod.

Life was about to take another twist. Great Britain was at war so, in November 1943, when dad was 18 years old, King George VI invited him to join the Navy. He did his initial training at Skegness in Lincolnshire and Doonfoot in Ayr. He then joined MTB 489 in September 1944 at Lowestoft. Very shortly afterwards he was stationed at Felixstowe and patrolled the English Channel. He was stationed for a short while at Ostend in December 1944. When the war ceased on 8 May 1945 he went back to Chatham barracks and then came to train at HMS Ganges, Shotley, to learn American signals. Around the 13th of July, the Free Church minister at HMS Ganges took about 20 young sailors with him to Chelmondiston Methodist chapel where Norman John saw and fell in love with a young lady called Ivy Doreen Knights. They were married at the chapel on 27 November 1948. Dad was on the VE Day march through Felixstowe on 13 May 1945 and on the same day about six of their torpedo boats went out to take surrender of the E-boats and brought two into Felixstowe. On 14 October that year he sailed from Weymouth on HMS Cossack calling at Gibraltar and Malta. He served on a signal station in Alexandria and whilst there came out in spots. All the Naval doctors thought it was small-pox so he was escorted by Naval dispatch riders in a field ambulance to an isolation hospital. All the rest of the men, as a consequence, had to be inoculated and shook their fists as they passed his bedroom window. That wasn't all they shook, when a few days later, they discovered that it was only chickenpox!! Transferring then to Port Said, after a short stay, he joined HMS Magpie and sailed to Trieste where he then served on a minesweeper. When she went into dock for a refit it allowed him to take a week's leave in Venice. Look out girls! He came home overland via Austria, Germany and France by train. He was demobbed from the Navy in September 1945 and settled in Chelmondiston. Apparently three St Kildans served in the forces during the Second World War.

He had one or two jobs before finally settling with a Builders Merchant where he became manager. He hardly ever had a day off sick throughout that time. He retired in 1993 aged 67. He has 3 children, Bridget, Shirley and myself, John; eleven grandchildren and one great grandchild. Now, aged 80, he is as fit as a fiddle and has never been in hospital. Still doing his own decorating he still climbs a ladder (when Ivy isn't looking!) right up to the tallest part of the gable end. Sometimes this is to put up a bird scarer to dissuade the house martins from nesting. Gannets, fulmars, puffins, arctic skuas yes – house martins no! Personality-wise he's very outgoing and would do anything for anybody. He knows what he wants and pursues it. He has a very strong faith in God which, I assume, he has had from a very early age. He loves talking to people, especially when the topic is St Kilda and once he gets going it's very difficult to stop him!

He returned to St Kilda for the first time in 1976 on an NTS workparty leaving, by boat, from Oban. The journey took about 18 hours and most people were seasick. He went back again in 1980, with my mother, for the 50th anniversary of the evacuation and six other St Kildans made the journey with them. They traveled on the Arakan and it took 8 hours from Benbecula. Last year, 2005, he returned twice. In Angus Campbell's new high speed boat it took 2½ hours from the Isle of Harris and in August the journey from Benbecula to St Kilda by helicopter lasted 23 minutes! What a difference that would have made to pre-1930 St Kilda.

This piece was kindly written by John Gillies, son of Norman John Gillies.

Further Information:

Courtesy of Scottish Government - Scotland.org .

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