大象传媒

Port of Dundee. 鈥淚mmobilised鈥� was the password for the destruction of the Caledon Shipyard, where my three sisters worked happily, unaware that a secret signal from the harbour master would let all hell let loose. The shipyard as they knew it would resemble a bombsite.

The giant 130-ton crane above their heads at the joiner shop jetty would be put into action along with all the others, in order to destroy and sink vessels alongside the fitting-out sheds and the power station, in case the yard fell into enemy hands. Every vessel was earmarked and a block ship was planned in the Camperdown basin at the dock entrance. Even the Tay Ferries (that we had enjoyed trips in across to Fife) would end up just a summer memory. In defence of the coastline, dugouts with machine guns were placed from the dockyards down to Carnoustie and beyond.

It was not until the war was over that we children were allowed to go down to the shoreline and wander far from home. On one occasion, we defied all warnings and went down to the dock to look for peanut spills on the jetty, only for me to get a bobbie鈥檚 boot on my backside.

The opinion of the ordinary men and women that worked in the shipyard was that, if it came to the worst, the government would order the destruction of everything in the yards. This was discussed many a winter night around the fireside, as I sat on my wooden stool at father鈥檚 feet. I remember the firelight showing up the concern on my sisters鈥� young faces. They were but lassies and had to listen to the 鈥渟peak鈥� and deal with the fear, which they say they remember to this day. In spite of it all, they still wore rambling roses in their hair to work in the shipyard - in defiance of the fear of war I suppose, and trying to enjoy their young lives as best as they could.

Maureen Black via Dundee Central Library

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