Marshall, Andrew Ferguson 45724 ( - 1918)

Private, 5th/6th Bn. Cameronians (Scottish Rifles)

Buried at Ploegsteert Memorial

Commemorated at Hillhead High School

Andrew F. Marshall, elder son of Mr. Andrew F. Marshall, 30 Blythswood Drive, Glasgow, was well known to many of the present pupils, who vividly recall his attractive and lovable nature. Self-possessed, reserved, silent, he gave the impression of much strength of character and of a fine nature. To good ability he joined steady application and great determination, qualities which seldom fail to secure advancement in any sphere of life. He did not take any part in the regular School games, but was a keen golfer, and gave promise of becoming a really first rate player. He was also a devoted Scout, and when war broke out he gave three months to doing Scout duty with the Army.

On leaving School he joined the Turkey Red Company, where he remained until he was eighteen years of age, when he joined the Scottish Rifles. He specialised in the Lewis gun, in the working of which he became so expert that he was offered the post of instructor. But Andrew, for all his reserve, had the spirit of adventure strong within him, and he applied to be allowed to proceed to France. His career there was short but honourable. He left Folkestone on the 16th March, 1918, and on the 16th April he fell" somewhere" in France while carrying a dispatch through a heavy barrage. His last letter home gave a vivid description of the congestion of traffic as he advanced to the Front lines to help to stay the rush of the Germans:

"On the road were motors (heaps of them), motor bikes, troops, horses, wounded, Chinese labourers, Australians, refugees (poor people, I was sorry for them), hurrying along carrying their belongings, or pushing them in small carts-the sort of thing that gets one's back up." "I will never forget that march," he goes on to say, "on we staggered, yes staggered, could hardly say walked, for with the extra load I and many more were about dead beat:" Then comes out the fine British spirit that has pulled us through all our troubles. "However, I am sticking it fine, quite cheery, always thinking of you, and generally making the best of it."

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