East Neuk 1942

The following poem was sent in by reader Jim Fraser of Elie:

East Neuk 1942 He remembers being carried in a blanket, outside into pitch darkness to the makeshift shelter, the smell still lingers not unpleasant, of clay and dampness with a flicker of light, that eerie drone passing overhead. Whispers of ‘London’, Clydebank’ ‘It’s one of theirs’, ‘lost its way’, ‘not one of ours’. The noise fades... Minutes later, it seems like hours, the siren sounds, the ‘all clear’.