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The war years remain vivid in my memory. As a child I really believed that WW2 was the war to end al wars. I was seven years old when my little world fell apart. In one year I discovered there was no Santa Claus, that babies did'nt come out of cabbages and that a horrible man called Hitler had just started a war.
The war years were to play a big part in our lives one way and another. The war had not been long started when I was sent to live with an old couple at Newmills near Keith in Banffshire. Every night the wifies would meet in each other's croft houses round the old fireside with the binks gleaming black and the kettle hanging from the swivel, and slways a black pot hottering away. I was absolutely terrified by their talk.
One wifie I remember said that if the Germans won the war all the old folks would be shot and the young quines (me) would be married off to young Germans. Even at that early age I made up my mind I was going to marry a red headed Highlander who would wear the kilt.
At school we had gas mask drill quite often; cotton wool in our ears, rubber between our teeth and gas masks on. We were warned not to speak to strangers or pick up anything which might be booby trapped. My imagination got the better of me sometimes. If I was alone, when I had to go for messages, especially on sunny days when the broom pods would pop I had a German spy behind every bush!! Soon after a spy was caught in the area.
The day came when our school was machine gunned, on the same day the cat ate the canary and the granny next door died. I'll never forget that day. I was writing the word "Inn" in my jotter and the last N went all squeegee as the windows of our class were machine gunned. Lord Haw Haw had often said that the Germans would bomb Cullen Viaduct, so we thought that was it. Two bombs were dropped at Portnockie that day but fortunately they were time bombs. Three people were killed as the German plane went up and down machine gunning the streets.
Meantime our teacher got us out to the shelter taking thrblue and orange Abernethy biscuit tin with her in which she kept pan drops. We all got one after the all clear sounded when our Spitfires chased the German plane out over the sea and we all sang "Roll out the Barrel
As if that had'nt been enough for us in one day more was to happen in the evening. My mother was in the ARP and she had been helping in the town. She had just come home and had gone to take in the washing when she was blown in the door with the blast from the time bombs which were exploded a few feilds away from our house. My brother Robbie had gone next door and the door handle flew out of his hand. By this time we were all nervous wrecks. I think that night I grew up.
I remember Mr Churchill was speaking on the wireless, but although I should have admired him I did not like him. During all this my father, who had been in the Gordon Highlanders in WW1 sat and played the melodeon - I think to try and keep our minds off the war.
After the bombing we were quite frightened coming home from school but some of the older boys were very kind to us, they would often come home with us, nearly all the way. Of course we knew many evacuees - in my class we had Josephine Healey,Evie Sweetman and Peter Fishwick.
Coming home from school sometimes we got hungry but there was a cupboard full of goodies in the countryside. We would 'pinch' a neep (turnip), crack it on the fence and share it. We would east sourocks (sheep sorrell). We tasted a kind of shamrock we called 'birdie pancakes', we would suck the clover and chewed the long white flower stalks which tasted of myrrh. We also collected spaghnum moss and rose hips for the war effort.
I remember too, I was practising the 'Fairy Waltz' on our piano, my father was shaving when we heard that the Duke of Kent had been killed. This upset me very much because I had started reading all about the Royal Family.
We moved the Thriepland near Boyndie aerodrome. Somehow I felt safer than I had done for a while near this aerodrome. The first planes landed on Empire Day 1943 and as we had a school holiday I saton a dyke and watched the first Avro Ansons and Airspeed Oxfords land.
The siren often went and we had to go to the Anderson shelter at the bottom of the garden. My routine was like clockwork - even as a child I was always well organised - I'd get my schoolbag, my savings book (our father started giving us a shilling a week and on special Dig for Victory Weeks we would get more), Paddy our cat if I could find him,under my arm and a few pancakes.
Five airmen visited us quite often, there was P/O Paddy O'Brien from Leeds, P/O Bert Hurrell, Isle of Wight who later was a Wing Commander and was killed over Germany(I still have a postcard he sent to me), P/O Donald Woodhead a teacher from Australia, P/O Brian Wardfrom Australia who was a great pianist and was killed aged 23, and P/ORonald Garrett an architect from New Zealand... It was partly because of what the men and women of the Commonwealth sacrificed for us during the war that I was so opposed to the EEC and I still feel the same.
We were warned not to take the short cut to school because bombs were placed there, without the fuses of course, but we ofter disobeyed especially if we were late.
Of course, staying nesr an aerodrome there were bound to be crashes and I witnessed three. The first was in a field not far from our school when the pilot (who was known as the 'Glamour Boy' (Mason) was killed. The next was in the middle of ther night just a field away from our house. Part of thre plane was on one side of the dyke and part on the other. I still have a coin which I found there and a switch which we found after the crash when the RAF Regiment had cleared the site. The strange thing about the RAF Regiment was they all seemed to come from Dundee. They would take turns to come to our house for a cup of tea and as sure as death they would sit on this chair - so we called it the 'Dundee Chair'.
The one crash I will never forget happened on a Sunday. My mother took me and my sister Patsy to see a person who had been drowned at sea. She thought it was about time we saw what a dead person looked like. We called the old fisherman 'Grandfather MacGregor'though he was'nt our grandfather but the grandfather of friends called Philip.I was not afraid - the old fisherman looked very peaceful but I still peeped under the bed for a few night before going to bed. On the way back, just as we were nearing home a Wellington bomber rose from the aerodrome and we saw it crash. We ran over, it had crashed on a chicken run and the airmen were all killed, but childlike, I cried for the wee chickens. We had no councellors then! I believe I'm a better person, we had to get on with life. Of course I had nightmares for ages afterwards dreaming about another aeroplane crash. I'm running but can never reach the plane. That dream remained with me long into my adulthood.
Like me most bairns would have cried for the little chickens. It would have been wrong to take away my childhood grief - bairns, I believe are better people if they are allowed to experience grief and happiness, fear and bravery.
The war ended and it was a great day for us especially me. I was so glad I would'nt have to marry a German - though we became friendly with German prisoners who after came to our home for tea. They were kind and always mannerly. I was 13 years old four days before the war ended. Did I marry a red headed Highlander? Of course, being me, I did.
Recently we went back to Boyndie where the aerodrome was but it was all changed but I could see the remainder of the dyke where we waqtched the first planes land. WE saw where the crashes had taken place, walked past the bomb site but how disappointed I was with the walk down the side of our house towards the beach. I remember the young airmen and WAAFs would pass our house on their way to the beach. We would follow them at a safe distance and that is where we learned about the birds and the bees!
Nancy Forsyth.

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