My mother Annie Kilkie occasionally spoke of the war years in Pollokshaws. While Pollokshaws itself was spared any of the bombing it nevertheless had to contend with air raid sirens, drills, and sleepless nights in the shelters and bunkers. Most people gradually became accustomed to it but it was still very frightening when they heard that siren go off.

She remembered one afternoon when she was at the shops getting her “messages” with my sister Jean in her pram when the sirens went off. My brother Jim was at the cinema at a matinee and she quickly left the shop to try to find her way down there to collect him. But the wardens would not let her go and directed her to go immediately to her own shelter. So she spent the next few hours not knowing where her son was. He was fine of course as he had been directed to another shleter but she never forgot the fear she felt that day.

She remembered another night when the sirens went off and this time they could actually hear the bombers going overhead as they made their way to the shelter. During that long fearful night they could hear bombs exploding, never knowing if the next one would land on them. It was not till the next morning that they discovered that Clydebank had been blitzed, with a huge loss of life. A very black day in the history of Glasgow.

I remember Auntie Mary telling me that another night the bombers were looking for an ammunition dump. I think Thornliebank was hit and also the Hurlet that night. Little did they know that the ammunition was in a siding at Nitshill station. If it had been found Nitshill would have been blown to bits. Uncle John remembers how they felt the blast from that bomb at the Hurlet while they were in their air raid shelter.