The Gentle Giant

Andy spoke several African languages, including the Royal Zulu. He uttered every word so fluently, emotively that the Matabele tribesmen, whose own tongue is the affiliated siNdebele, would hang on his every word . . . they revered him as their friend, adviser and protector.

Perhaps that’s why, in the end, Andy had to die.

But before he did, this giant of a man became their avenger. He tracked down and slew a ‘rogue’ lion — one too old to fend for himself, a once noble beast kicked out by a younger ‘alpha’ male which took over his ‘pride’.

The still physically powerful king of the jungle had become more than a nuisance to indigenous farmers, killing domestic cattle in their bomas and ultimately committing the cardinal sin in Africa — singling out a human mother and child for food.

When Andy Mac and his bushman tracker finally cornered the lion, which village headman had implored them to put down, Andy shot it . . . but not cleanly. The voracious animal charged and man and beast locked in mortal combat fist to claw, the beast’s fetid breath and teeth on Andy’s ear. The gun-bearer had disappeared and Mac’s torso, arm, shoulder and head swiftly became a bloody mess.

Mac eventually wore the lion down and won the fight. He strangled the raging beast with his bare hands and crawled away, barely alive, through the bush. He was found many hours later by a patrol, alarmed at his disappearance and loss of contact.

I was privileged to serve under the Gentle Giant as a soldier-policeman when we operated as an anti-insurgency unit in the African bush. Andy Macdonald was one of the few men, apart from my dad and a couple of uncles that I can honestly say I revered. He and his wife were murdered by armed thugs at their farm gate two years after the war ended.

Bell Rock Lighthouse

I can never think of Scotland without the words of the Bell Rock keeper ringing in my ears. Although I cannot remember his name, he would cheer me every cauld, blustery day with the words: “Hull-oh, Leuchars. Hull-oh Leuchars. This is the Bell Rock Lighthouse. Guid mornin’ to you. Its 6 o’clock and there’s a braw day beginning out here … I’ll be waiting for the helicopter wi’ the bread and papers – for which I thank ye in advance. This is the Bell Rock Lighthouse … over and out.”

I talked to that fine gentleman every day for a couple of years (1955-57) during my national service in the Air Force. Incidentally, the day that I was supposed to visit the Rock, I was so busy with signals traffic that I could not leave the office. I cancelled my place on the helicopter and radioed my apologies. It was just as well.

The next transmission I got from the Rock was the keeper, choking with tears. “We’ve lost those two braw young men. They were only bringing me the papers. Their rotor hit the radio mast and they crashed.” I don’t think the keeper ever recovered from that experience. I know I didn’t.

RAF #2750021 SAC Watson

J.B. (Ian) Watson