Edinburgh 1929

Picture a small, white-washed cottage nestled in Scotland near Edinburgh. 

My mother was lying in bed in labour.  The midwife was standing, pleading with my mother to push harder.  Mother screamed and pushed with all her might and I finally emerged, a fourteen pound baby girl born on December 29, 1929.  With the grace of God, we survived the ordeal.

My father was a stretcher bearer in the first World War.  He rescued the soldiers from fields ridden with gas bombs.  He later received a war medal for his bravery, but died at age forty due to his exposure to the gas bombs.  The widow’s pension from the army was only 4 shillings a week, which was hardly enough to put food on the table.

My mother opened a sweet shop in the cottage which helped us survive the hard times.  I longed for adventure, but I was too young to enlist in the war declared against Hitler.  The bombs were dropped in England.  On the way back to Germany, the planes passed over head and were illuminated by searchlights.

Churchill was a strong leader.  He kept our spirits up during the war.  Saying we would never be defeated.

The war ended when I was 19.  I decided I would immigrate to Canada in 1949.  My mother and sister came to the Liverpool dock to see me off.  I climbed aboard a freighter bound for Montreal with 12 other passengers on board: the sea was rough and stormy. 

Meals were served in the dining room where plates were anchored down.  After dinner, I made my way down to the cabin at the bottom of the ship.  I looked out the porthole remembering a story that was published in the newspaper where a girl was murdered and her body thrown through the porthole.  I shuddered, then went to my bunk.  The sea was rough.  I rocked back and forth as the ship crashed through the high waves.

Suddenly, there were heavy breathing sounds in the darkness.  A figure moved toward me: I could not tell who it was.  Strong arms were around me, ripping my nightdress from my shoulders.  My fear was so great, I could not scream.   Then it came.  A piecing scream.  The man released me and fled.

I spent the remainder of the voyage terrified.  I did not know who he was and was too ashamed to report the incident.  I was 19 and a virgin: thank God I was saved.

 

 

Memories of World War Two

The day the war broke out I was at the Girl Guides Hall.  I was a Brownie: 10 years old.  When I heard the news I ran home to tell my mother and find out what it would be like to be at war.

We lived in Falkirk Scotland. Blackout rules were enforced by the wardens whose duties were to make sure there was not a peep of light showing through the windows and doors.  A knock on the door would come if they discovered any light, telling us that the German Luftwaffe were flying overhead.

Food was rationed.  I remember standing in long lines for the 2 oz. of butter which was marked off our ration books.  Clothes were also rationed.  We carried gas masks.

Winston Churchill was our Prime Minister.  He gave wonderful speeches to boost our moral and confidence that we would never be defeated.  There was singing an dancing to the big bands: Guy Lombardo, The Andrew Sisters kept us laughing and coping as the war dragged on.

There was an Anderson Shelter in all the back yards.  Made of steel, shaded like a half moon inside.  There were stone seats to sit on.

During the blitz we would sit in the shelter listening to all the bombs go off, waiting for the all clear siren.  The siren would sound when the air raid begun and when it was over we went back to bed thanking God we made it through.

School went on as usual.  We were shown how to use the gas masks and hide under the desks if the school was hit.  The young children in England were evacuated for the duration of the war.  London and the big cities were bombed to rubble on the streets.

The radio was used for propaganda.  One of them would say this is Fyfe calling and spill his propaganda.  We used to laugh at him and imitate him.

Women played a big part in the war.  They worked in factories making munitions while their husbands and sons were at war.  Vera Lynn the British singer was a great comfort.  Her songs gave us strength.  She sang “We’ll Meet Again Some Sunny Day”.

One night the siren went off.  We grabbed our coats and ran to the Anderson Shelter.  My mother, and my sister Nancy and I say in there listening to the planes up in the sky and the search lights scanning the blackness for the enemy.  We could hear the bombs exploding with a whistle sound.  Our ears were tuned to knowing how close the bombs were.  Suddenly, the whistle of a bomb was deafening.

My mother bowed her head and said, “Let us pray.”  A great explosion erupted.  We escaped.

The next day, there was a gigantic crater at the bottom of the street.  It fell in a field.  We were all spared.