大象传媒

I was ten years old and lived with my parents, brother and sister in Weir Street. I was feeling very happy as I dressed for school on the morning of 6 May 1941. It was a beautiful morning, with the sun shining, the birds singing and, best of all - new sandshoes. (No shortcuts today to St. Mungo's over railings and across the burn. I would take the long road and skip and jump high in the air with my lovely, new sandshoes.)

I went upstairs for my friend but she wasn't feeling well and couldn't go to school. Alone, I skipped along the road. In our school during May, the teachers and pupils made a little altar to honour the Blessed Virgin. Someone would bring a statue and the girls brought flowers 鈥� mostly buttercups and daisies. My friend was to bring the statue but as she wasn't at school, the teacher asked me if I could collect it at lunchtime. I felt really honoured. At lunchtime, I fairly raced back home over the railings, across the burn and up the back close. I went right up to my friend's house and asked her for the statue. Her aunt wrapped it in brown paper and tied it with string. I came down those stairs oh-so-slowly and carefully with my precious parcel. Lunch over, I went back to school the long way. Girls from the street walked with me, curious to know what I was carrying. When I told them, each one wanted to carry it. No way - something might happen to it. We walked down Ladyburn Street passed the tan works. Halfway up the wall of the works were two pipes from the street. As I carried the parcel, it accidentally struck one of the pipes but I wasn't worried. When I arrived at school, everyone crowded round to see the beautiful statue. Off came the string, then the paper. What a shock! The head of the statue rolled onto the floor. That was when my blitz began.

God would be very angry and never forgive me. The parcel was tied up again and I ran home - the short cut this time. As I crossed the burn, I thought: "God is so angry with me I might fall in and drown!" When I arrived home crying and told my mother what had happened she told me not worry. Dad would mend it. My dad could do anything but he could not stop God being angry. I raced back to school again and told the teacher my friend wasn't at home so I couldn鈥檛 get the statue. What a lie - some-thing dreadful would certainly happen to me now! That evening, I was afraid to go out and play. Maybe the big dog along the street would bite me; maybe I would trip over the lace of my silly sandshoes. I hated them now. I went to bed early. In those days, we had to fold our clothes in a chair in case there was an air raid and we had to get out fast. I was in charge of a little sack which held the insurance policies, strips of sheets for bandages and heavens knows what else. That night everyone was awakened with the dreaded wailing of the sirens. The danger signal. Time to run. All I could think was God must be really angry to send an air raid. We went into the air raid shelter which accommodated the residents of two closes. Some people began to sing, but not for long. German planes were now overhead and the sound of bombs dropping was terrifying. Children cried and people began to pray. And I was still blaming myself for what was happening. I was sure I would die that night. Later, an air raid warden come into the shelter shouting: "Everyone out. The building behind has been hit by an incendiary bomb and may collapse on the shelter. 鈥淭here was panic. People ran out not knowing where to go. Someone said: "Stay together. Don鈥檛 let the children stray outside, I stared into a nightmare. The building behind us in Quarrier Street was on fire. Someone shouted that the distillery in Baker Street had had a direct hit. The sky looked as if it was on fire. I looked for my mother. Relief. Yes, she was there with my little brother in the shawl. My father was helping a neighbour who was crippled. As we all ran up Sinclair Street towards the hills when a plane suddenly appeared. I stopped dead and looked up, thinking: 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a big, big plane." Suddenly, it started to machine-gun the fleeing crowd. A man behind me yelled: "Lie down." The breath was forced out of me as he threw me to the ground and shielded me with his arms. When I looked up, the garden fence side where we lay was riddled bullets holes. The man looked at me. "You are a lucky girl". I just lay there thinking that God must have been really really angry and that everything that was happening was my fault.

The plane disappeared, the crowd gathered again and made for the hills once more. I stopped when I saw an old man sitting on the grass verge covered in blood.. I thought he had fallen so I opened up my little sack for a bandage but the old man just shook his head and said: "Run lassie and save yourself.鈥� The man had been shot. The fleeing group crossed the wooden bridge at Lady Octavia and someone kept warning us to keep our heads down. Then the air was filled with a strange, unnerving whistling. A bomb came nearer and nearer. . .

I thought then that I was definitely going to die but mercifully, the bomb exploded up the hill. About 6pm, the crowd decided to return home. Slowly and still terrified, we made our way back. Then I saw a sight I have never forgotten. Flames had shot through my granddad鈥檚 house. I prayed; "Please let my granddad be safe. If anything has happened to him it is my fault. But he was safe. My mother cried in relief. It did not really matter that her house was a mess with broken windows and floorboards all loose. These could be mended. We were all safe and that was all that mattered. We were evacuated that afternoon but I still blamed myself for the blitz. I had knocked the head off the statue and God had been very angry.

I left school when I was 14 and began work in the August. That very day:-VE day - the war ended. I felt then that I had been forgiven at last and looked forward to a new life.

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