The number of Army, Navy and Air Force personnel soon built up in the area as the war progressed. RAF Leuchars near St Andrews was the home of Spitfire and Hurricane Squadrons whilst RNAS (Royal Naval Air Station) HMS Jackdaw was located near Crail on Fife Ness and where the famous Fairey Swordfish torpedo bombers did most of their practicing. Indeed, as youngsters many a fine sunny afternoon was spent on the shores of the Firth of Forth near the St Monans’s swimming pool watching those brave men launch their practice torpedoes at target ships some distance out from the shore. Many would tip their wings into the water as they banked away after dropping their load and we all watched the rescue boats with anticipation as they sped towards the downed aircraft and we wondered if those pilots were safe and sound and would be rescued. The Fairey Swordfish were nicknamed “String Bags” because of their cumbersome appearance and slowness. Later they were replaced by Fairey Albacore Torpedo-Bombers and they had a range with torpedo of 930 miles. We were greatly interested in all those aeroplanes and knew such things that the Albacores had armaments of a forward firing 7.7 mm (0.303 inch) gun in the starboard wing and twin Vickers ‘K’ guns in the rear cockpit. Subsequently, the Fairey Baracuda MkII Torpedo and Dive-Bomber emerged and this had two 7.7 mm (0.303 in) Browning Machine Guns in the rear cockpit. In fact, they were so well known that when one of those planes crash landed near the swimming pool and went on fire, parts were secreted away by youngsters for souvenirs - one lad who was seen walking up the street with a Browning Machine Gun!. The local Policeman, of course, soon discovered where the gun was located and retrieved it from one startled youth who couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
Polish troops (or ‘Poles’ as they were affectionately known) eventually arrived in the area and they were billeted mainly in the adjoining village of Pittenweem and the town of St Andrews. They really were gentlemen. They were most polite and the ladies were most impressed when they would give up their seats on the local busy ‘buses. I noticed that situation even as a youngster! They were most welcome visitors and many stayed on in the location after the War. The Poles were mainly parachutists and exercised on the Ladies Golf Course at Elie where an old Armstrong Whitworth “Whitley” bomber fuselage was set up on trestles and they practiced dropping through a hole in the floor. Later they also practiced live parachute drops on the sand dunes at the west side of Kincraig near Elie and Earlsferry. As boys, we used to go there with the Rescue squads when taking part in combined exercises and acted as “wounded” and experienced tear gas raids. Many of those Poles took part in the Arnhem ‘Market Garden’ part of the war in Holland.
The famous Fairy Swordfish
Torpedo-Bomber (left)
But generally round our small village, things were pretty quiet for most of the war. There were many Air Raid warnings and of course there were blackouts. The nearest to damage happening was when a German bomber jettisoned its load of bombs escaping from allied aircraft. But the the bombs landed harmlessly in a field on the local farm about half a mile from the village. A prized possession then for us would be a piece of shrapnel from one of the bomb craters. My strongest memory is of the night that Clydebank was bombed. We got little sleep that night as the German bombers made their way up the Firth of Forth heading for the River Clyde and the shipyards at Clydebank. There were large naval guns at Kincraig Point near Elie and Earlsferry and the emplacements of those guns can still be seen to this day. They were placed there to enfilade the Firth of Forth at that point and they appeared to fire all night during the Clydebank raid, but the gun fire may well have come from ships in the Firth of Forth using their anti-aircraft Pom Poms.
When the war in Europe ended in 1945, I was ten years old and still attending St Manans Primary School. There were great celebrations culminating with a huge bonfire which we had steadily built over the previous weeks in anticipation of the return of peace. We looked forward to eating and seeing bananas (at that time I had only seen a photograph of one) and an increase in our sweet ration of 2 ozs per week.
The foregoing are only a few of my childhood memories of St Manans but they have stayed with me all my life. I am so pleased to be able to share them with all who may have the opportunity of reading this part of my Web Pages
We soon learned that life was to go on as normal but with some substantial changes. The young men of the village (who were very ‘old’ to us), were called up and of course many were fishermen who joined the Royal Navy or the ’Wavy’ Navy. Many were in reserved occupations like my father who was contributing to the war effort by building Minesweepers and MFVs (Motor Fishing Vessels). Since the Minesweepers were built of heavy oak and would not attract magnetic mines, they were therefore used for minesweeping duties all over the world. He was also in the Rescue and Ambulance Service. As youngsters and members of the cubs and scouts, we collected waste paper and aluminium pots and pans for the war effort which we were told would be used to build Spitfires. Later and towards the end of the war my brother, when he was aged 16, became a messenger. Metal railing fencing surrounding the dwelling houses was also taken down to be eventually re-smelted. Rationing was introduced and as youngsters, as the war progressed we couldn’t remember pre-rationing days. The local farms were usually a source of eggs in the early days. I can remember my mother taking me to get our allocation of “country eggs” and on the way home heard the sound of aircraft above us. I learned later that it was during the first raid by German aircraft on Rosyth and the Forth Rail Bridge. A Spitfire was chasing a German bomber which it eventually downed near the adjoining village of Crail. I could see the spurts of fire from the machine guns of the Spitfire and from then onwards understood why it had acquired such a name.
The War Years
Sunday 3 September 1939, when war was declared is embedded in my mind. I was four and my elder brother Phil was two months off his 10th birthday. Mother and father were at Church and we were at home awaiting their return when the Church bells started to ring and we knew that the war had commenced and immediately expected bombs to be falling round about us from German aircraft. So without panic, my brother calmly got me onto his shoulder and I retrieved from the top shelf of our lounge cupboard, the recently issued gas masks. Before we could fit them mother and dad returned from the Church and took command of the situation.
