大象传媒

My memories of the Greenock blitz are somewhat faded by now as I was 20 years old at that time and engaged to be married and very much in a world of my own. Nonetheless like everyone else I didn鈥檛 go entirely unaffected.

At that time I worked in a children鈥檚 convalescent home as Children鈥檚 Nurse (nowadays known as Nursery Nurses) (for a wage of 拢3 per month) these children were referred through their school, suffering from general debility and lack of nourishing food. There would be about 15 children at a time, ages raging from 6 to 12 years old. As I lived in it was my job to get these kids up and dressed in the morning and taken down to the dining room where breakfast would be served. This consisted of porridge, and probably bread and butter and a cup of coca which they hated.
We had a very good cook in this home and the food, with what rations were available was good wholesome fare, but these children were not used to such as porridge, milk puddings, semolina, sago etc., and they really hated it. Lunch would be soup, I can鈥檛 remember what if any would be the main course, but I do remember the 鈥榩lum duff鈥� which was like a great big delicious Christmas pudding, it was lovely and I think the kids enjoyed that, but not the custard which went with it.

When I think of it, the regime could be likened to the days of Dickens. If a child wouldn鈥檛 take porridge, the matron forced them till they were sick and I remember one little girl crying because she didn鈥檛 like semolina and one little boy calling across the table to her 鈥渏ust let on its mince and totties鈥�! Forcing these children to eat really upset me. And at the time of my interview for the job, I had recently had a molar extracted and was really a poor looking specimen of an individual, thin and pale. Well when it became quite impossible for a child to eat their meal, I鈥檇 coax them to eat as much as they could and Id eat the rest so that they wouldn鈥檛 have to stand the wrath of the matron. But later when I would be in trouble and getting a dressing down from her, she would say 鈥� you were a wreck when I employed you and just look at you now, I have fed you well鈥�. Little did she know!

There was an outbreak of chicken-pox in the home about this time and I am not sure if the children were sent home, but all the toys were taken out to the garden and burned 鈥� among which was a lovely Swiss dressed doll with leather knee high boots. I coveted that doll but did not have the courage to save it, but I did remove the boots, kept one and gave the other to my fianc茅, (later my husband) who carried it with him for the rest of his life, even to the Far East, where he was later employed. I kept the other one. I still have these boots.

It was also my job, when the siren sounded to get these poor kids out of bed, dressed and down to the shelter, which was the laundry converted for safety. The children occupied three bedrooms. The little ones in one, then the boys in another, and the third occupied by the older girls. I would start with the little ones, waken them get them out of bed, the then the boys and lastly the girls, go back to the first bedroom and find all the wee ones back in bed. It was a nightmare getting them up during the night. I being the excitable type would be in an utter panic getting them ready while the matron, stood like the sergeant major she was, at the top of the stairs, waiting till the poor weeping sniffling little kids filed past, with me at the rear terrified.

I remember the very 1st siren to go off. Our resident matron had gone on holiday and we had a deputy, a kind gentle creature in her place. It was in the middle of the night and
I shot out of bed, ran for dear life to her part of the house, opened her bedroom door, switched on the light and screamed 鈥漵iren鈥�, the poor soul sat bold upright in bed, screamed, gave me such a fright that I switched off her light slammed her door and ran for my life back to my bedroom. Next day, she remarked how pale I looked and suggested I don鈥檛 get so excited the next time. Had that been our resident matron, I would have probably had my ears boxed!

Yet another funny incident I recall. My fianc茅 used to be waiting for me outside the gate when it was my night off. On this particular night in the black out, he was not waiting there, so I walked only a few yards till we met and arm in arm we happily strolled down the street chatting away, when I said something (I wish I could remember what) and my 鈥榖oy friend鈥� stopped dead and demanded to know 鈥榳ho is this I thought you were my girl friend鈥� he said, and 鈥業 thought you were my boy friend鈥� I said and we both fled in different directions. I wonder who he was and if he is still out there.

I was home with my parents when we had the real blitz. We lived across the street from the Westburn Sugar Refinery which had a direct hit. We were all down in the cellar (or dunny as it was called). This area had been strengthened by some sort of scaffolding for safety during an air raid. It was quite horrible. All our neighbours were crowded into this area including a baby in a pram. I remember the terrible whistle of the bombs as they were dropped from the air and the horrible thud. Although we realised a bomb had dropped near, no one thought it was been so near. My parents lived in the attic, which was directly diagonal to the sugar house, yet none of our windows were blown out. However, my in-laws-to-be had every pain of glass blown out of their house which was facing the same direction as ours, though they lived a block away.

No one stayed in their homes after that night, one night were directed by the warden and sheltered in the railway tunnel near by. I remember the air raid wardens walking up and down the railway lines making sure all were as comfortable as possible. Yet another night we climbed up the Whinhill, my parents, sisters and myself. My Father had very bad rheumatoid athristis and had difficulty walking. He had to hold on to my mother鈥檚 arm to make this treck up the hill and by the time we reached a safe place to lie down, her arm and wrist was so badly swollen she could hardly lift herself, let alone help my father.

We were married in December 1941 and lived with my in-laws for a time, occupying the bigger room (or parlour as it was called) with no daylight as the windows which had been blown out were boarded up with asbestos of all things. It is amazing how we survived, yet we were lucky to be alive.

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