“You’re the one who will be no fun when I put you to bed with a bellyache,” returned her mother.
“Look Sarah, there’s the fishmonger’s shop,” observed her father in an effort to change the subject.
“Shall we go in and see what the day’s catch is?”
Sarah’s eyes opened wide.
“I’ll say, father. Maybe Mr. Angus has still got that octo pussy in there.”
They entered the shop and found its portly proprietor perched over the concrete counter cleaning a load of flat, hand-sized fish. He only needed to take one look at the newcomers who had just entered for a wide grin to turn the corners of his wrinkled face.
“Well, if it isn’t my very favorite Yank family,” greeted the old-timer, who had fluffy white hair and long gray sideburns.
“Good morning, Mr. McPherson,” replied Steven Aldridge.
“We just stopped in to say hello and check out the day’s catch.”
“Mr. Angus, do you still have that octo pussy questioned Sarah. She watched the fishmonger split open the flat belly of the fish he was cleaning.
Stifling a chuckle, Angus shook his head.
“So the wee lass wants to see an octopus. I’m sorry, my dearest. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with these lovely Dover sole that came right out of the sea only a few hours ago.”
The fishmonger picked up one of these fish by its tail and bent over to show it to his fair-haired guest.
“Why, I bet you never saw a fish with both of its eyes on the same side of its head before,” he added.
“Look at that, Father!” exclaimed Sarah in amazement.
“It really does have two eyes on one side. Why’s that?”
Steven Aldridge accepted a playful wink from the fishmonger as he attempted answering his daughter’s question.
“The sole’s a bottom fish, Sarah. That means it spends most of its life laying flat on the surface of the seafloor. Instead of having one eye constantly buried in the sand, mother nature moved both of them together like this, so that it wouldn’t be wasted.”
Not really certain what her father was talking about, Sarah was already bored with the sole. She gasped in wonder when she viewed a tank of live lobsters on the shop’s opposite wall. She quickly ran over to have a closer look, leaving the adults to their conversation.
“So tell me” asked Angus eagerly.
“How did you like lona?”
This time it was Susan Aldridge who answered.
“It was gorgeous, Angus. In fact, the whole trip worked out just perfectly.”
“Even the weather cooperated,” added Steven.
“We only had one full day of rain.”
The fishmonger seemed genuinely impressed with this.
“Now that is something. The gods of the Highlands must have been smiling on you.”
Pleasantries were interrupted by the sight of a police car with its emergency lights flashing passing down the street. Angus was quick to explain its significance.
“Looks like they’re clearing the streets for the parade.
At least it looks like the rains will hold off until it’s finished.”
Suddenly realizing the late hour, Steven Aldridge called out to his daughter.
“Come on, Pumpkin. It’s almost time for the parade.”
This served to pull Sarah away from the tank. As her mother took her hand and led her to the door, the youngster looked up to the old fishmonger and waved.
“Goodbye, Mr. Angus.”
“Goodbye to you, lass,” returned the old man.
“Save three of those sole for us, Angus,” added Susan Aldridge.
“I’ll pick them up later on our way home.”
“Will do, Mrs. A. Enjoy the parade.”
As they stepped outside, Steven said his own goodbyes before turning to follow his family.
“See you later, Angus.”
“I’ll be here, Captain. By the way, why no uniform?”
Aldridge shook his head.
“As far as the U.S. Navy is concerned, I’m still officially on leave, my friend. Uncle Sam will have me back in the flock soon enough.”
“I hear you, Captain. Enjoy it while you can.”
Steven returned the Scot’s salute and hurriedly left the shop. The foot traffic was headed one way now, down toward the wharf side war memorial where the ceremony would be taking place. Securely linking hands, the Aldridge family followed the crowd past the collection of quaint one-story shops that made up this section of Dunoon. They passed the new YMCA building, and entered an open square, that was bordered by a park on one side and the blue waters of the Firth of Clyde on the other. It was beside the park side walkway that a large group of townspeople had gathered. Steven recognized several denim-clad American sailors in this crowd. Even in their civvies, these young men had the good old U.S.A. written all over them.
The war memorial itself was nothing but a large stone cairn with several bronze plaques set into it.
Inscribed on these tablets were the names of the brave local servicemen and women who died as a direct result of World Wars I and II. Immediately in front of the cairn, facing the empty street and the waters of the firth beyond, a compact wooden reviewing stand had been set up. No sooner did the
Aldridge family fall in alongside the mass of onlookers, when the shrill sound of massed bagpipes broke in the distance. Hearing this caused the crowd to buzz with excitement, and even Sarah found herself thrilled.
“Listen, Father, the pipers are coming!”
Steven anxiously looked to his left, and soon spotted the marching column of kilted musicians responsible for this distinctive clamor. They were dressed in green, yellow and black tartans. Together with a line of drummers, they were playing a spirited rendition of Scotland the Brave. The music was an excellent arrangement, and Steven couldn’t help but be inspired when he spotted the squad of U.S. Marines who followed the band. Dressed in traditional olive green parade uniforms, the leathernecks marched with exacting precision. Each of the soldiers was well over six feet tall, and in superb physical shape. Steven knew that this crack complement came from the nearby navy base at Holy Loch, where they provided security.
Behind the Marines followed a unit of junior cadets, a group of local dignitaries, and a dozen or so disabled veterans, several of whom were in wheelchairs.
Two white-haired veterans carried the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes, and as the band turned toward the crowd, the two flag carriers broke from the ranks and approached the reviewing stand.
Here they were greeted by a tall, erect figure, dressed in kilts, a brown tunic, and the regimental bonnet of a senior army officer. This individual waited for the marching column to come to a complete halt before signalling the sergeant major to order, “Parade rest!”
The senior officer then approached the marchers and reviewed their ranks. He paid particular attention to the veterans, each of whom he engaged in a brief conversation. He also questioned several of the cadets, and appeared to convey a job well done to the leader of the Marines. Then after a cursory inspection of the band, he returned to the reviewing stand, saluted, and initiated a short speech.
“We are gathered today on the fiftieth anniversary of the United States of America’s official entrance into World War II. This is a solemn occasion, yet it is a joyful one all the same, because without America’s invaluable help, the United Kingdom would have been forced to continue the struggle against Nazi tyranny on its own.
“Hundreds of thousands of our sons and daughters died for this cause. Even a small village like Dunoon paid its share of the ultimate price of freedom, with the brave lads and lasses whose names are etched in bronze behind me. We shall never forget them. Nor shall we ever forget the individuals who serve our country’s armed forces today. It is because of their selfless vigil that world conflict no longer stains our shores in blood.