Warriors and the Bagpipes

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they were incredibly brave. But the thing that always strikes me about talk of bravery is, that it's usually someone "on the outside" of a given event who "looks in" and then uses the bravery word. Whether it's the military; the police; firefighters, or anyone else that "puts it on the line", the chance that you might find yourself in a situation that someone will call brave, is just something that goes with the job. As an ex-firefighter I never heard the word bravery used that much in any of the firehalls that I've been in.

I, like a lot of firefighters, read a magazine called "Firehouse". Monthly issues are filled with acts of valour, and Firehouse magazine rewards firefighters in an annual issue for their amazing acts of selfless courage. I appreciate this; these awards are given by firefighters to other firefighters. And so we should: we, unlike so many of the newsmen who use words like bravery and sacrifice, understand.

I've found myself reading this annual Heroism award issue with tears in my eyes. But I'm not sure I was moved solely by the valorous acts described in the magazine. I think, more correctly, it was also knowing the sacrifice that each was willing to make when they initially joined a fire department. And their unflinching reaction, when the event they were being honoured for, took place.

There is another reason why these funerals had special meaning for me.

When I watched these funerals I saw, and heard, the Scottish bagpipes being played. In fact I honestly don't remember seeing a televised funeral recently, where the pipes weren't playing. To see the bagpipes played at all these funerals has special meaning for me because I'm Scottish, and our war-pipes have internationally become synonymous with acts of bravery and sacrifice.

The bagpipes have special meaning to all Scots. It's not just "music” to us. The pipes literally speak to our souls. I know; I feel it every time I hear the war-pipes, and I've seen in my son's eyes that he feels it too. He's never set foot in Scotland, but without doubt, the blood of the Gael burns hotly in his veins.

I'm always amused by people that tell me what an awful noise the bagpipes make. My guess is, somewhere in their family's history, they're descended from a people that has faced my ancestors on a battlefield. And so they have an almost genetic, inbuilt dislike for sound of the pipes.

I don't blame them.

The English have learned this lesson well. After the last battle on Scottish soil, Culloden Moor, the English took away our weapons. But they also took away the bagpipes, because they, more than any other race, know the effect the war-pipes have on the Gael.

For a Scot, the war-pipes are far more than a musical instrument. They drive us to a killing rage and put fear in the hearts of our enemies. They are used by us to remember our fallen comrades and express our grief at their loss; and after a battle, the joy of our living. They tell us of our history, and remind us of the brave deeds of the warriors that came before us. The sound of the pipes is the music of our strongest emotions.

So I watched those funerals, very sad for the families of the fallen. But my heart, as usual, stirred to the sound of the pipes; and I was so very proud that an instrument that speaks directly to who I am was chosen to pipe those brave warriors home.