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This story is taken from an interview with Jim O’Hagan, and has been added to the site with their permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions. The interview was by Walter Love, and transcription was by Bruce Logan.
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[The Falls Rd Public baths] were used to house the remains of approx 150 people who had been killed in the vicinity. Part of the lower Shankill had been very badly devastated, and the Falls Rd Public baths was the place where the remains were brought to. And in fact the St George’s Market was also used as a mortuary. They had great difficulty identifying some of the people.

[There was another great health hazard from smoke]

These were the Smoke-screens. People in certain areas near to the city centre, they adopted ingenious way of thwarting the German planes. Local people gathered round and burned old rubber tires, or got a lot of old refuse from foodstuffs and that, and they burned this on a night they thought there may have been a raid. But the problem was, if the wind changed the whole blessed lot came down on them again, and it was no advantage to them.

Then again, of course, you had people who evacuated and went off. This wasn’t very popular with government circles. In the course of my research I unearthed a poem about these people. It was called “The yellow convoy”, and it went something like this.

“They sing the songs of Ulster, with all their lusty might.
But do they think of Ulster’s grit when bunking off at night?
They leave before the blackout and in cars which travel fast,
To make quite sure of sweet repose before the Raiders past.
They hand their keys to neighbours, and wish them all good luck.
Until tomorrow morning, when back returns their cluck.
They waste the country’s petrol, to gain their safe retreat.
But where they get their coupons from is up another street.
They may hear Planes pass over them, but they can go to bed,
And find out in the morning if many souls are dead.
They come back after breakfast, all smiles and in the pink.
Not thinking of the volunteers who haven’t had a wink.
Then they go off to business, to do their little bit —
By urging all to work like hell, while they prepare to flit!
They need sing songs of Ulster, these lily-livered lads,
For men like these will always please old Hitler and his cads!

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