THE Luftwaffe bombers had long since returned to their Continental bases, their nights’ work done. On Clydeside, rescue squads were clawing without cease at the pulverised remains of houses, searching for survivors amidst scenes of surreal, unending horror. Busloads of people were already making their way to the area, looking for parents, relatives, lovers, fearful of what they might find. Among them was Mary A. Carson, the editor of the Women s Topic pages in this newspaper since 1931, whose nom de plume was Jean Kelvin. “We have walked along those devastated streets,” she subsequently wrote, “crunching all the time over littered glass speedily being swept into the gutters. We have seen those shattered modest homes. If one looked for it, no doubt there was the lighter side – two children dancing unconcernedly on a novel stage, the cleared and windowless frontage of a shop; and the incongruous, those odd personal items standing still intact before gaping walls”.