大象传媒

The day war broke out on the 3rd. September 1939, my mother Margaret Dougan, took my brother Tom & I down Burnhouse St., Maryhill, Glasgow where we lived to our Primary school at the foot of our street. From there, we were to be evacuated to somewhere relatively safe from possible air-raids. We had to cross Gairbraid Ave., and here Mum told us to look down the street towards the main road and then up to the entrance to the local football grounds. There was Dad, waving to us as best he could, carrying a big bag of morning rolls. He was in the Territorial army and had been away for some time. Although we lived close to a big barracks in Maryhill Rd. he and his comrades had been billeted under canvas on the football-pitch! It was was to be one of the few times that we saw Dad, during the war!

Tom and I were to be evacuated to Killin in Perthshire. There, we were to be billeted with a Mrs. MacNaughton, she lived in a house called 'Fingal Villa' situated in the Main St. We were looked after by her daughter Miss MacNaughton and her brother (Robert)? He had survived fighting in the 1st. World War, but I believe three of the MacNaughtons' inscribed on the local 'War Memorial are brothers!! I think he was a local shepherd. I do remember him taking my brother and I onto the hill behind the house with his sheep-dog. On one occasion, we came across Highland cattle which Tom and I had never seen before and we were scared! However, he assured us that they were friendly beasts and soon we were patting them and agreed that they were indeed, lovely beasts. We remained there for about six months during the winter of what was to be called the 'Phoney War'! I'm sure we were amongst the last to leave for home, but we did go home with 'Happy Memories' Dad was in France and was caught up in the retreat from there. His unit had to retreat from Rheims and they had a difficult time making their way to the coast. After Dunkirk, Mum received a card to say that if she had not heard from him, she must assume that if he was not dead, he was a 'Prisoner of War'. However, a few days later, we received a telegram to say that he was on his way home! He was evacuated from St. Nazaire, on the outskirts of which they were told to get to the docks and board the 'Lancastria'. However, it had already sailed and there was no other ships available! They settled down on the pavements by the docks and were expecting to be taken 'Prisoner of War' but fortunately, another ship arrived and they were able to make good their escape! Whilst waiting, local French people brought out bottles of wine for them, for which, they were grateful. But how fortunate he and his comrades were, to have missed embarkation on the 'Lancastria, which was sunk, with enormous loss of life!!

We were evacuated again following the Blitz on Glasgow during March/1941. Our house was a tenement type and all those who lived above the ground floor level, came down to the close during a raid and moved into the three houses situated there. The close was covered by brick walls at the front and back entrances to protect against shrapnel, and the roof of the close was covered with corrugated iron sheets secured by scaffolding poles. This arrangement is said to have saved many lives down in Clydebank! We should have all stayed in the close, however, it was more comfortable in the houses and everyone contributed food and coal etc. for those who lived in these homes. Whenever we thought the bombs were getting close, we all piled into the close, but in our case, this didn't happen often. One night I was in the close and I heard a shout from the street, "come and see this", being young and 'immortal' I immediately hurried out, and there, floating over the building was a 'large mine', suspended by several parachutes and awesome in the glare of the search-lights. It slowly crossed over towards the nearby canal on the other side of which, tenement homes reached up a steep hill. Shortly, we were to hear the awful explosion and felt deeply for those poor souls caught up in its intensity!!

WE were again bundled off to be evacuated this time to Kilninver, about nine miles south of Oban in Argyllshire. We were to spend over three years there on Baracharail farm, a mile south of the Parish church. Mr. & Mrs. MacDonald who ran the farm and their son Calum, made us very welcome. We were expected to give some help in the working of the farm, but were never forced to work against our will! I was eleven when we arrived and Tom was ten. We enjoyed the life and guided by Calum, we had a playground of about 500 acres stretching from a salmon river to an eagles' nest on the rock-face at the top of the Ben. On the top we could see the 'Flying Boats' of 'Coastal Command' landing and taking off from Oban bay, an important element in the 'Battle of the Atlantic', though we did not realize this at the time. Tom became very proficient with the farm-work, latterly he was so good, that he was allowed to shear the sheep when I and Calum, were only allowed to drag the sheep to the shearing benches and provide drinking water, laced with porridge oats, to the 'Shearers'! I have wonderful memories of our stay in Kilninver and I'm sure I also speak for my brother Tom. We were indeed, very fortunate, during those dreadful years, 1939/45!!

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