Derek David Bishop
The following comes from Derek's obituary, written by his daughter Kerry:
Derek David Bishop - 20th June 1934 - 11th February 2017
My Dad was once a Royal Marine. He joined as a boy bugler when he was just 15, and served on HMS Gambia, including active service during the 1st Suez Canal conflict, and when he turned 18, he became a fully-fledged Royal Marine Commando with 45 Commandos. He saw active service during the 1st Suez crisis we believe. Sadly, his service record is lost. He was once the youngest player in a fanfare played for the Princess Elizabeth, who was unveiling a stained-glass window. He also once played his bugle, solo, at a Royal Tournament.
[This means that Derek served on HMS Gambia anytime between 1955 and 1958.]
When he left the Royal Marines, he joined the Territorial Army, with the Royal Wiltshire Yeomanry and he was described as one of their best ever gunnery instructors. Our Dad? Who would have thought it?
The Dad that I knew didn't seem to me to be anything like the tough guy stereotypes that the title Royal Marine Commando often brings to mind. But as I grew up, I came to understand what having been, a Royal Marine meant to him. It gave him a sense of pride of having done his duty, and a sense of comradeship with all Royal Marines, past and present. Over the years he was a proud Standard Bearer at so many services of remembrance, and he and Mum loved going to Royal Marine concerts and parades.
He was born in 1934 and grew up in Woodlane Chippenham. He had 4 brothers and 1 sister. Life was hard, and money was short. On Sunday afternoons he went to the Salvation Army where he began to learn to play his Bugle. It was a close community of ordinary working-class people who lived together, went to school together, worked together, and played together.
In 1962, he and my mum, Joan Diana, known as Diane, were married. They would have been married for 55 years in April 2017. For most of his working life, Dad worked at Westinghouse, and Dad worked hard to give us everything he could. Mum won't mind me saying that she took over where the military left off. She was his strength, his Sergeant Major, and he loved her deeply.
In later life, Mum and Dad had the time, and the money, to travel, and travel they did. Britain, Europe, Australia, Africa, and even into the Arctic circle. His hearing declined over the years, largely due to damage from the noise of artillery and he was given his beloved Hearing Dog, Merlin. Late last year, Merlin died, and it feels now as if he and Merlin declined together.
We hope to be able to take them both out to sea, out to the ocean waves, where the early remains of a Royal Marine belong.
After many years of ill health, he died suddenly at home and was gone in the blink of an eye. He was just plain tired out. He died in the house in which he had spent most of his married life. He had spent the afternoon at home, laughing with friends and watching the Rugby. His was a life of service and devotion, not only to his family, but also to the group of men, the "Bootnecks", that serve their country Per Mare, Per Tarram, by sea, by land.
"Once a Royal Marine, Always a Royal Marine", is a saying often heard, and my goodness it is true.
At the crematorium, a young Royal Marine, Bugler Jordan Wilson, attended to pay tribute to a man described to me when I telephoned as "one of our own". We arrived at the crematorium to be greeted by the sight of Jordan, dressed in the uniform that Dad had been so proud to have worn. His presence was not only a great comfort to our family, but also was a tangible reminder to everyone gathered, of the proud service that all Royal Marines perform.
In playing the Last Post, tribute was paid to a man whose earthly duty was done, and then, after a few moments of silence, he heard the Reveilli, the wake-up call for a Royal Marine, to signify his rebirth to eternal life.
Our family will always be grateful to CTCRM Lympstone, where Dad trained and served, for the kindness shown to our family and the honour paid to my father. They, and all Royal Marines are, and ever will be, in our thoughts and prayers.