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From September 1940 to May 1941, the UK suffered heavy air attacks from the German Air Force (Luftwaffe). The goal was to demoralize the population and annihilate the ports and industrial centres. Other unfortunate locations were bombed when pilots were unable to find their primary targets. Despite the alarms and shelters, more than 40,000 UK civilians died during the war.Scotland was not spared. And the West coast, due to the presence of Navy ports and shipyards, was particularly hit. In March 1941, the Clydebank Blitz claimed the life of more than 1,000 civilians and destroyed thousands of buildings. Two months later, over the nights of May 6th and 7th, it was Greenock's turn.Though it lasted 'only' two nights, it was long enough to traumatize the inhabitants and destroy thousands of buildings. Shortly after midnight, on the 6th of May, the first air raid started, destroying arbitrarily and killing many sheltering in ground floors or basements.Theresa Orr explains how her mother, Mary Compston, then a young Catholic girl from St Mungo's parish, grew up thinking that the Greenock Blitz was all her fault: "During the month of May at her primary school, every child took turns to take Our Lady's statue home for the night. She very carefully carried her precious package home but unfortunately the head broke off. That night, German planes blitzed Greenock and mum thought that God was paying her back for breaking Our Lady's statue. " Mary's full heart-breaking account of her dreadful experience can be found on this link.Bombs also fell on Paisley. That same night, "the blast from [a German land mine] almost completely demolished St Mary's Hall, severely damaged St Mary's Church and presbytery and blew out hundreds of windows in the neighbourhood including the stained glass and other windows at St Mary's. The raid took place about 2 a.m. and yet at 8 p.m. that same day May devotions were able to be held in the church as usual thanks to the help of men and women of the parish who rallied and cleared the building of debris and broken glass."
Source: Rev. Bernand J Canning, Glimpses of Saint Mary's Paisley 1876-1976 (Paisley: James Paton, 1976) pp. 50-51.
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The first night had the unfortunate advantage of hurrying civilians to flee the area and take refuge in towns around. This meant that during the second night, "casualties were much lighter than they should have otherwise been."* Still, nearly 300 people were killed and over 1,000 injured. *Frances M. Dunlop, St Mary's Greenock - The Story of a Community (St Mary's Publishing, 2001), p. 121.
Eamon Forde shares the story of his family whose home was destroyed during the second night. The Forde family was composed of James and Elizabeth and their 7 children: Lizzie, Willie, Pat, James Jr, Susan, May and Bunty. The parents lived with their four youngest children and Elizabeth's sister, Susan, at 23 Lomond Road, Greenock. That night, the German raid came in three waves, destroying much more buildings than the previous night, including St Laurence's RC Church, then located at Carnock Street.On the second night, while James Sr was working at the Torpedo factory, "Elizabeth took the decision to abandon the Heron family home [the Forde's ground floor neighbours] and seek refuge elsewhere". While they headed up the hill, "in the early hours of 7 May 1941, the top of 23 Lomond Road received a direct hit by one of the Luftwaffe’s bombs. The Forde family home was completely destroyed.
[...] On arrival at Hillside Road, they were met by a warden, who informed them that an unexploded bomb had landed in the vicinity and that the area had to be cleared. Elizabeth and her charges then began the trudge up onto Kilmacolm Road, not knowing whether her husband, Jim and her remaining children, Lizzie, Willie and Pat were alive or dead. [...] Throughout the seemingly endless trudge along the streets of ‘The Strone’, in the direction of the hills, James shielded his mother’s head with a briefcase, to protect her from the shrapnel that was slicing through the night air. The leather-bound case was subsequently found to be cut in numerous places, where the flying debris had bounced off it. [...] Sheltering under some bushes, from the hillside the family watched as their house and all their worldly possessions slowly turned to ashes and rubble.
[...] When their house was razed to the ground, the only belongings, which any of the family was left with, were the clothes on their backs: indeed, Susan was left in her night attire. One thing of value did survive and it is testimony to the pride that the Forde family felt in themselves that Elizabeth rescued the family documents, such as Birth, Marriage and Baptismal Certificates. [...] The documents were housed in the leather briefcase, which Elizabeth used to shield the heads of her children and with which James had duly reciprocated.[...] Jim (James Sr), who was not permitted to leave the Torpedo Factory until his shift had ended, headed for home at 8am. One can only imagine his despair as he beheld the devastation he met on reaching 23 Lomond Road. Willie and Pat found their father standing looking dejectedly at the burnt-out shell that had been his family home.The three men then made their way to Aggie’s home (Elizabeth's sister) at Hillside Road and, en route, met with the rest of the family, as they were heading back towards the ruins of their home. Jim, Willie and Pat had a tearful reunion with Elizabeth, Aunt Susan, James, Susan, May, Bunty and Chic on the Kilmacolm Road on the morning of 7 May."
Bunty, Susan, James and May Forde (Courtesy of Eamonn Forde).
Pat, Madge and some Forde kids, during a visit home from the war (Courtesy of Eamonn Forde)
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In January 1941, Rev. Herbert Reid published an article in The Gourock Times, addressing the Irish citizens.The Irishman's LamentOh Paddy Dear, and did you hear,The Shamrock's in the dirt,The Irish are forbid to fight,For fear of getting hurt.I mind the day for liberty,We'd sell our very shirts,Ochone, now Dublin 'stay put'.For fear you might get hurt.There's Norroway and Normandy,Who's freedom now is doomed,We durstna lift a hand to help,For fear we might be bombed.And gallant little Poland too,Who caught at freedom's skirt,Says Devil-lear-a, deil-the-feara,Man of us get hurt.There's Britain's fleet to guard our shores,And bear the strain and sturt,No base in Eire will they get,For them that might get hurt.Sure Norroway and Denmark theyCould tell him if he'd look,A neutral, safe for just so long,As suits the bully's book.The British tyrant long we fought,Our freedom to assert,To tyrant Adolf, we kowtow,For fear we might get hurt.For freedom is a glorious thing,It leaves yez free to cringe,To blustering bully when he roars,And bombs around he flings.We're the more distressful country,He's trod on the tail of our coat,But devil the fight, we've got to sit tight,And swallow the Dublin note.Oh Paddy Dear, sure now it's clear,The Shamrock's in the dirt,When Irish men funk a fight,For fear of getting hurt.
Margaret McAndrew's father-in-law came over from Ireland in the 1930s to work on the railways. He read the article in The Gourock Times and decided to reply:Oh Pat Machree and did you see what was in the press to-night,Someone from Gourock seems to think the Irish cannot fight,He seems to think they're cowards but I think he's in distress,He should learn more about them before writing to the press.They have fought in thousands by your side and helped you save your crown,For when an Irishman's your friend, he'll never let you down.They have rallied to your colours when Britain was in need,They have helped you win your battles, deny it, Mr. Reid!You have Sir Andrew Cunningham who leads your fleet in style,He is a true born Irishman and belongs to the Emerald Isle.Lord Gort, another hero, who did not his duty shirk,He also is an Irishman and he saved you at Dunkirk.Then you have Captain Andrews, a Dublin man is he,And among your fighting forces, he won the first V.C.,And you have many others, such as Brooke & General Dill,Remember they are Irish and they help your ranks to fill.And what of Commander Fegan of the famous Jervis Bay,Who fought the German Pirate, Mr. Reid, what do you say.He fought a manly battle, deny it, if you can,And there's no necessity to throw a slur at an Irishman.It's amusing, when you need their help, you like the Irish well,While at other times they have been sent to Connaught and to hell,Of all the goo things of this world, I'm sure you've had your whack,But what did you give to Ireland, to be asking so much back.I see you took the liberty to use the word Ochone,But if you cannot speak for Scotland, please leave Ireland alone,I presume you are a Scotsman who has neither King nor Crown,For two centuries and more has passed since you let your country down.Ochone indeed, Dear Mr. Reid, your own wrongs first redress,And put your house in order before writing to the press,Hitler trampled Poland and he thought it was great fun,And Dublin City too was shelled by the Duke of Hamilton.Now here's good luck to Britain in the fight against the hun,They ask all Christians to unite, that that fight might be won,And as we wander on through life in Joyfulness and mirth,Let's turn a thought to Heaven and ask 'Him' for peace on earth.So now I'll end by saying, let's part the best of friends,And through the coming season, let's take what e're God sends,I finish with these friendly words, I hope you're in good cheer,And I wish both you and everyone, a 'prosperous New Year'.*Ireland chose to remain neutral during the war, making it a controversial subject, as can the poems above testify. Despite its official neutrality, Ireland was close to the Allies. Many Irish citizens volunteered and joined the British armed forces.
The Irish neutrality had interesting outcomes: when German pilots or sailors crashed or were forced to land on Irish soil, they were interned as prisoners (also called "guests of the state") until the end of the war, at Curragh Camp, with those they considered the enemy: British troops who met the same fate. At Curragh Camp, prisoners could receive visitors, play sport, and even tour the local pub. The life there seemed so far from war that, sometimes, Germans and British became friends, forgetting that a few days before, they might have shot at one another.
*Courtesy of Margaret McAndrew
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