Meeting of the Parliament 19 December 2018
I thank Alasdair Allan for bringing this timely debate to the chamber.
The Iolaire disaster was an unequivocal tragedy of returning servicemen lost in sight of their homes. Commemorations are always sobering. I am particularly aware of that having commemorated the disaster of the Otranto and Tuscania on the north coast of Islay as part of the world war one commemorations that I was involved in earlier this year. The sinking of the Iolaire, with the death of at least 201 men so close to their own shores, strikes an especially poignant chord.
Over the course of the first world war, more than 6,000 Lewismen joined the war effort, which was about 20 per cent of the island’s population. More than 1,000 of those servicemen died during the war, which was a high toll for such a small community. Every family had a father, brother, uncle or son who died. We can imagine the relief to be heading homeward of those who were fortunate enough to have reached the end of the conflict. They could look to the new year facing the comforts of home and familiarity of the loved ones who were eagerly awaiting their arrival.
However, on the eve of new year’s day in 1919, HMY Iolaire—the Gaelic for “eagle”—left Kyle of Lochalsh bound for Stornoway harbour on the Isle of Lewis. The yacht was overloaded with Royal Navy men, mostly from rural Lewis, and lifebelts were few and far between. In the small hours of the morning and in clear view of the lights of home—at one point, only 20 yards from the harbour—the Iolaire struck the rocks of the Beasts of Holm.
Families who were waiting by the shore for their loved ones could only watch in shock. With heavy uniforms weighing the men down, swimming to safety proved too difficult for many. Many islanders grew up without the ability to swim, having been warned to stay away from the cliffs at an early age.
One man, John F Macleod, managed to reach shore pulling a line of rope, which helped to save more than 40 lives. Another man clung to the mast of the Iolaire for hours until he could be rescued. One hundred and seventy-five natives of the island were claimed by the sea. Some men were found with rings and letters in their pockets; some men were never found.
The impact of that catastrophic loss on the Western Isles was devastating. In essence, it seemed that a generation of young men was gone. In those island communities, the loss was stark. Families who had believed that their loved ones had escaped the threat of war were confronted with a disaster that they could not have imagined. Their mourning was redoubled; as The Scotsman wrote in the aftermath,
“Many have had sorrow heaped upon sorrow.”
The Iolaire disaster witnessed life’s end for more than 200 men, and it sourced a vast depth of grief for many more, which should not be underestimated. For men who had battled enemy fire, survived torpedoes and suffered the extremes of war, this was a bitter end in view of their homes. For the islanders of Lewis, Harris and the surrounding isles, the inquiry into the disaster failed to find a solid conclusion as to how it had been allowed to happen.
With the centenary of the Iolaire disaster approaching this new year, I recognise the commemorations that have been created in honour of those who were lost. Islanders have long known of the moments of disaster; it is time for wider Scotland to have a greater understanding and appreciation of the extent of its impact. Indeed, marking this remembrance has led to increased vocalisation of the grief that has passed through the generations in the Western Isles.
The commemorations have been a fitting and collective act of remembrance. Although the war memorial on Lewis was officially opened in 1924, a monument was not placed at the Beasts of Holm until 1958; I am pleased to see the tributes of today. For example, portraits of 100 sailors who died in the Iolaire have been created by Margaret Ferguson, an award-winning artist whose great-uncle was among the death toll on the night. The portraits have brought the men to life and have touched home for many families. The exhibition will open on 29 December on Lewis. Last month, locals planted trees along the road that leads to the war memorial, and on the anniversary, the Prince of Wales and the First Minister will jointly mark the centenary with a visit. These acts of remembrance are incredibly important; they allow us to respectfully acknowledge the disaster and the heavy toll that it has had on the island community.
I join my colleagues in commemorating the Iolaire disaster. For the islanders, it opened a new year that they could not have imagined and it saw the death of those who thought that they had escaped its hold. As one of the United Kingdom’s worst maritime disasters, it was a significant loss of life that we need to be conscious of. I commend us all to remember it today.
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