JAMES CLELAND RICHARDSON
Richardson Family in Scotland
- 1913 -
Early History
Jimmy
- Age 5 -
River Clyde, Scotland
James C. Richardson
- 1914 -
James Cleland “Jimmy” Richardson was born on November 25, 1895, in Bellshill, Lanarkshire, Scotland—the eldest son of David Richardson, a police officer, and Mary (Prosser) Richardson, a mill worker. David and Mary met and married in Peebles, a small town south of Edinburgh. In the 1901 census, the family was living at the police station in Blantyre, South Lanarkshire, where David served as a police sergeant. By the 1911 census, they had moved to nearby Rutherglen, and David had risen to the rank of Police Inspector and Fire Chief.
​
An early account preserved through a local school annual tells of an incident that captured Jimmy’s boyhood mixture of mischief and nerve. One Sunday, he and another young lad were late for services at Rutherglen Greenhead East Church. Finding the doors shut, the boys climbed onto the roof so they could peer through a skylight. Jimmy leaned too far and plummeted through the glass, landing in a shower of broken shards with a thud in the aisle next to the pew where his family was seated. He was knocked unconscious but sustained no lasting injury.
​
That restless spark did not mean he lacked discipline. Jimmy was a strong student, an active Boy Scout, and by all accounts a young man who took pride in doing what was expected of him. Those qualities would later serve him well.
The Richardson family lived in housing partitioned within the police station which would have been tight quarters for a growing family. The lure of a new life in a land of opportunity, far from those cramped conditions, was part of what compelled them to emigrate. They left Scotland in two groups. Jimmy, age 17, travelled with his father David and two siblings, Alice and Davie, aboard the S.S. Parisian arriving in Halifax, Nova Scotia on May 23, 1913. They immediately made their way by train to Vancouver, British Columbia where Jimmy secured an electrician’s apprenticeship at a factory on False Creek.
In August 1913, three months after arriving in Vancouver, David accepted the position of Chief of Police in Chilliwack and moved about 65 miles east. Jimmy’s mother Mary followed two months later with additional children, including Robert (Wee Bob), and sisters Mary, Isabel, and Janet. Ten-year-old Alexandra remained in Scotland with a favourite aunt for a time. Jimmy and his older sister continued to live in Vancouver, taking residence on Comox Street, though Jimmy often visited Chilliwack and was known to play the pipes on special occasions as the family began putting down roots in the Fraser Valley.
FALSE CREEK, VANCOUVER B.C.
During his employment as an electrician’s apprentice in 1914, Jimmy gained notice for an act of bravery. One day, while visiting False Creek, a young boy fell into the cold water. Without hesitation, Jimmy dove off the dock and eventually surfaced holding the boy — though all efforts at resuscitation failed. Initial reporting credited another responder, but a letter from Chief Richardson to his son, dated August 6, 1914, reveals both the truth and the father’s quiet pride:
​
“I was greatly interested and pleased to hear of your race to False Creek and bringing the boy’s body ashore. I don’t know what Mr. ‘Bobby’ can think when he got the credit for the work from the newspapers, well knowing he had nothing to do with it…
It matters little whether the newspapers give you credit for it or not, you know yourself you did the work.”​
Notably, David’s letter did not open with the drowning. It began with pride in Jimmy’s piping and competition success:
​
“My Dear Son,
Delighted we were to hear of your success at Brockton Point. You have some credit gaining 1st prize from amongst so many competitors. Where and when are the next sports?
…Mother says she has to get this one.”
Photo taken near Stanley Park
Brockton Point Highland Games
72nd Seaforth Highlanders of Canada
Cadet Pipe Band
James Richardson
Cadet Photo
-1914-
In April 1914, Jimmy joined the 72nd Seaforth Highlanders of Canada as a member of the cadet pipe band. The Richardson family cherished their Scottish heritage, and David — known as “Chief” throughout his life — was deeply active in the Scottish community. Nothing delighted him more than the sound of the pipes. The family embraced that culture wholeheartedly. Newspapers reported that Alice, Jimmy’s sister, was considered the best Highland dancer at a St. Andrew’s Night celebration in December 1915. In the months after his arrival in British Columbia, Jimmy rose quickly in local esteem for his piping. The Chilliwack Progress reported on the St. Andrew’s Night celebration of 1913:
​
“The opening number on the programme was a bagpipe selection rendered by Master Richardson. For so young a piper Master Richardson was very good indeed.”
​
With additional prizes earned at the Highland Games in Victoria and at Brockton Point, Jimmy cemented his place as one of the finest young pipers in the province. The pipes were not simply something he played. They defined him.
Jimmy’s original medal
from the North Vancouver Highland Games
16th Battalion (Canadian Scottish) C.E.F.
Pipe Band - Valcartier, Quebec 1914
Declaration of war was announced. On August 25, 1914, just four months after joining the Seaforths, Jimmy left Vancouver for Valcartier, Quebec, as part of the mobilization for the Canadian Expeditionary Force. He would be the youngest of the pipers drawn from the four militia units that became the 16th Battalion, Canadian Scottish (CEF). After training at Valcartier, the battalion shipped overseas and continued training on Salisbury Plain in England before entering the war in France and Belgium.
​
On April 16, 1915, the 16th entered the front line trenches east of St. Julien and were told they would take over a line from the French in the Ypres Salient. On the morning of April 22, Captain Rae of No. 2 Company observed an ominous change in the German parapet—openings and altered outlines unlike anything seen before. It was an early sign of the gas cylinders being prepared along the enemy front. Between four and five p.m., bombardments began, and the German line released a massive chlorine gas attack.
​
At about five-thirty p.m., the 16th Battalion was ordered to “stand to arms.” Soon, French colonial infantry—breathless, bareheaded, coughing and spluttering—came running back across the canal. Belgian and French artillery limbers followed, drivers holding each other up. At any attempt to halt the retreat, men threw up their hands and gasped “Asphyxie!” The scale of the disaster was immediate and terrifying. With survivors abandoning positions en masse, a gaping rupture opened in the Allied line and the Canadians were ordered into the breach.​
16th Battalion Pipe Band
Salisbury Plain, England
-1914-
Kitcheners' Wood - St. Julien
Depiction of the Battle of Kitcheners' Wood
& Canadian Scottish Oak Leaf Badge
The battle had marked the first offensive action taken by Canadian soldiers in the
First World War, and was later described by Marshall Foch as "the finest act in the War."
The Oak Leaf is a special distinction earned by those men in the wood that night.
The Oak Leaf Memorial in St-Julien, commemorating the
Battle of Kitcheners' Wood.
Lieutenant-Colonel Leckie formed the battalion for attack. Little was said and that little in undertones. The advance began at approximately 11:45 p.m. No pipes were carried or played. The first indication the enemy had of the assault was the sound of bayonet scabbards clinking against heavy wire as the men crossed it. For a few moments there was silence—then a single flare, then many, and the battlefield became bright as day. The Germans opened rapid fire. For Jimmy and the men of the 16th, it was their first charge of the war.
​
Within days, newspapers were carrying harrowing accounts, and Jimmy’s parents waited desperately for word. To their relief, he survived. Yet when his father pressed for details, Jimmy refrained for more than a year. He wrote only once:
​
“You seem very anxious to have details of Ypres 1915. Well, I could write a book about the subject. Therefore, I won’t say anything about the scrap until I face you and then I can give you as much as I know.”
​
Not satisfied, David obtained a third-hand account of something Jimmy had done. The imperfect story, filtered through many hands, was repeated back to Jimmy — who responded with a letter that revealed both his frustration and the truth. In it, he asked:
​
“I would very much like to know the name of the man who related my experience to you. There were only 3 men in the battalion, to my knowledge, who knew of my experience, and only one man saw me actually go through it. It is now over a year since this incident happened during the German’s second attempt to take Ypres, and it seems funny to start to relate the story so long after, but I suppose I will have to do so.
Well, you will remember we made a charge at St. Julien on the 22nd April 1915, and took a wood from the Germans. After we had carried the wood some of us kept going on Fritz’s heels. And after advancing about thirty yards on the other side of the woods, our party started to dig in, but I went going on although the thing was ridiculous.
Well, I may tell you I didn’t get very far ahead. About 40 yards, before I landed at a farmhouse, and sure enough, the Fritzies were all clustered ‘round it sheltering from the flying bullets. When I saw what I was up against, I didn’t know what to do, but believe me, my brain worked like lightening. As it was dark save for the moonlight, I flopped to see if I was spotted and I thought while I was lying there, they would have heard my heart beating. Lying motionless, I saw an officer coming toward me...”
​
He then described realizing he had only two choices: shoot and run, or surrender. He chose the former—shot, then ran as fast as he ever had, grateful beyond measure to reach his own lines. He reported the farmhouse as a German sniping post; the matter was sent to artillery, which destroyed it.
Jimmy had escaped capture and lived through gas, but the battalion paid a terrible price. Officers and men were killed in numbers that stunned even seasoned soldiers. Replacements were rushed in. Then, only days later, the 16th was sent again into heavy fighting at Festubert. Less than four months into the conflict, three quarters of the battalion’s original strength was gone. It was a baptism of fire and blood — and death reached into the pipe band. Pipers such as James Thompson was killed at Kitchener’s Wood. William McIvor was wounded and exposed to gas and died days later. George Birnie and Angus Morrison were killed at Festubert. Like Jimmy, they did not play their companies into battle; they carried rifles into the attacks.
These losses and the reality of modern firepower impacted the regiment. Pipe Major McLeod and several of the older band members took up duties behind the front lines working in the quartermaster store while Jimmy and many others continued fighting in the trenches. In August 1915, Jimmy wrote with grim clarity:
​
“I haven’t heard of a piper playing in a charge yet. And if the truth be known I don’t think there will ever be such an occurrence. Just picture a man standing full height playing the pipes, facing machine guns, rifles, bombs, shrapnel…
How long would he last?
…This is not a war at all… It is scientific slaughter.What chances have men against guns?
…Of our original battalion of 1100 officers and men, we have 250 left.”​
A little more than a year later, he answered his own question
Letter written by James Richardson
20 August, 1915
Courcelette - Regina Trench
Piper James C. Richardson
By October 1916, the Somme had become a crisis of casualties and broken plans. General Haig sought to push forward toward Bapaume, and that required taking hard ground: Courcelette, the ruins of its sugar factory, and then the formidable Regina Trench on Ancre Heights. Regina lay on the reverse slope, difficult to observe and difficult to hit. Allied artillery often fired blindly. What damage was done by day could be repaired by night. Its defence was strengthened by seasoned German marines of the 4th Ersatz Division. Professional soldiers determined to hold.
​
On the night of October 7, 1916, Lieutenant-Colonel Jack Leckie and senior officers gathered to plan the attack scheduled for 4:50 a.m. the next morning. Orders were issued: companies would advance in waves behind a rolling barrage and take Regina Trench, and hold it. As the men waited, field service postcards were distributed for final messages home. It was likely in that tense interval — among men writing what could be their last lines — that Jimmy pushed his way forward to Sgt. Mackie and demanded to speak with the commanding officer.
​
Accounts say he implored the commanding officer with tears in his eyes. Whatever his exact words, the effect was so compelling that Leckie issued an unprecedented order for the battalion: the companies would be led by their pipers. Though the pipers were cautioned not to play over the top, but to await the signal as they drew close to the enemy line. Four pipers were detailed — one for each company — among them Pipers Hugh McKellar, George Paul, John Park, and James Richardson. Major Lynch, leading No. 1 Company in the first wave, ordered Jimmy to pipe at his side when the time came.
​
Before dawn on October 8, the men filed into an advanced jumping-off trench. Rain began to fall. The ground was heavy. Then came whistles, a roaring barrage, and the surge — over the top. Jimmy was first out, with Major Lynch, Sgt. Mackie, and others on his heels, the battalion following in kilts and mud-slick legs behind the curtain of shells.
Then the fatal truth emerged: the German wire was intact. Men crashed into it, tangled, and became exposed targets. Machine guns and rifles tore into them. Jimmy, Lynch, and Mackie dove into a shell hole. Mackie scrambled for wire cutters from a dead man’s pack. Major Lynch rose just enough to assess the catastrophe and was shot by a sniper. He fell back into the crater and died in the arms of Mackie.
The attack began to collapse.
​
In that shell hole, amid mud, rain, and panic, Jimmy looked at Mackie and asked,
“Will I gie them wind?”
Mackie met his eyes, understood what it meant, and answered:
“Aye, lad. Gie ’em wind.”
Sgt. Bill Mackie
Piper James Richardson, V.C., 16th Canadian Scottish
at Regina Trench
by J. Prinsep Beadle
Jimmy stood to full height. He tucked the pipes under his arm and stepped out of cover. The first notes cut through the roar — thin at first, then unmistakable. He walked along the wire fully exposed, playing "The Reel of Tulloch." Bullets stitched the air around him. Shrapnel cut into the tartan ribbons. Splinters flew from the chanter. He kept playing.
​
Across the field, heads lifted. Men stared. The sight of a lone piper striding along the wire while others lay pinned in mud shocked them out of paralysis. Captain Bell saw him and roared:
​
“Come on, lads! Level that wire!”
​
And it worked. Men surged up, shouting, slamming stakes with rifle butts, hauling wire down with bare hands. The pipes played on. The gap opened. The Canadians poured through, and the fighting turned close and brutal — bombs, bayonets, dugouts cleared at arm’s length. Jimmy marched the parapet playing "Devil in the Kitchen," then laid the pipes down to help bomb the German dugouts, helping stabilize a section of trench long enough to delay counter-attacks.
​
But their position was impossible to hold. During the chaos, Sgt. Mackie was badly wounded, shot through the shoulder. As the survivors withdrew to more defensible ground, Jimmy shouldered Mackie and moved back across no-man’s-land, escorting two injured German prisoners with them. Near the Canadian lines they found shelter in a shell hole as stretcher bearers approached. When Sgt. Mackie was passed into their care, Jimmy told them he had go back and get the pipes he had left behind. The stretcher bearers urged him not to go back. Mackie tried to hold him — his bloody hand closing around Jimmy’s — but weakness and blood loss robbed him of strength, and the grip slipped free. Jimmy turned and made his way back into the battlefield to recover his pipes.
​
He never returned.
After the battle, Cyrus Peck was promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel and remained in command of the 16th for the remainder of the conflict and seeing them to Victoria, B.C., where the Canadian Scottish Regiment would be headquartered even to this day. Peck later called Jimmy’s act “one of the great deeds of the war.”
Peck was so inspired by Jimmy’s action that for the remainder of the war the 16th was led into battle by its pipers.
​
When challenged about this decision Peck wrote:
​
“When I first proposed to take pipers into action, I met with a great deal of criticism. I persisted, and as I have no Scottish blood in my veins, no one had reason to accuse me of acting from racial prejudices.
I believe that the purpose of war is to win victories, and if one can do this better by encouraging certain sentiments and traditions, why shouldn't it be done? The heroic and dramatic effect of a piper stoically playing his way across the modern battlefield, altogether oblivious of danger, has an extraordinary effect on the spirit of his comrades.””
​
When critics argued that “pipers are conspicuous,” Peck replied:
​
“Well, that's part of the game. Officers, machine gunners, and runners are conspicuous. People get killed in war because they are conspicuous; many get killed when they are not, and that's part of the game, too."
​
News of Jimmy’s fate appeared in a small article published in a Winnipeg newspaper. A former officer of a Manitoba unit wrote that when his battalion took over the line on the evening of October 9, parties went out the next morning bringing in wounded from no-man’s-land—and an officer from an adjoining company came across the body of the piper and blood-stained pipes. The report was not widely circulated and could not be independently confirmed, but as months passed it became clear that Jimmy’s brave young life had gone out somewhere in the mire and wire of Regina Trench.
By July 1917, James Richardson and John Park were officially listed as missing and presumed killed owing to the lapse of time. Park’s remains were never recovered; with no known grave, his name was later inscribed among the missing on the Vimy Memorial.
​
We do know that Jimmy was found.
A military service record indicates that on June 15, 1920, his body was exhumed from an obscure battlefield grave. He had likely been buried near where he fell, then later identified and reinterred less than half a mile away in Adanac Cemetery, where he now rests.
​
In October 1918, almost two years to the day after the struggle for Regina Trench, Jimmy was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross. His parents were invited to Victoria, B.C. to receive the medal the following April. For a time it was displayed in a prominent storefront window in Chilliwack. Jimmy had become Canada’s only piper to receive the Commonwealth’s highest military decoration for valour.
​
Col. Peck's account of Richardson's action published in the Chilliwack Progress
5 January, 1928
The engraved back of
James Richardson's
Victoria Cross
David, Mary, & Alice Richardson
at Jimmy's grave.
- 1936 -
In 1936, the Canadian Legion organized a pilgrimage for the unveiling of the Vimy Memorial. Jimmy’s parents, David and Mary, accompanied by Davie and Alice, were among the 8,000 who attended. From Vimy they quietly made their way to Adanac. There they found another monument to courage—an altar of freedom on which they had laid their own sacrifice.
​
Jimmy’s parents honoured his memory throughout their long and happy lives. “Chief” David Richardson spent decades addressing the haggis at the annual Burns Night celebrations in Chilliwack—the same gathering Jimmy had once piped for as a boy. His youngest brother, “Wee Bob”, picked up the pipes Jimmy had left at home and became an accomplished piper in his own right, performing for those burns night celebrations year after year…and even still Jimmy’s home pipes are being played in the Fraser Valley.
