River Of Fire
March 14th, 1941
It was three seventeen in the morning when the owl arrived in Glasgow. Emily rubbed the sleep from her eyes and patted her silk head wrap before taking the letter that arrived much too early in the morning.
For the past year, an early owl was never a good sign, but the last few days had been a step beyond heartbreaking for those who searched the wreckage.
On the previous Sunday morning, she had found herself in London. On Monday and Tuesday morning, Portsmouth. Birmingham and Liverpool followed. Now it was Friday and time to go see what the Luftwaffe had targeted mere hours before. In all likelihood, the bombing was ongoing.
Unfurling the letter after sending the owl on his way, her eyes widened in shock at the target: Clydebank. Clydebank, a town of over 40,000, lay just nine short miles away from her childhood home in Glasgow.
After a quick all-purpose hygiene charm, Emily got dressed in her blue muggle uniform and scowled at her wrapped hair and tired eyes. Pulling off the wrap, she worked a handful of cream through her coils before replacing the scarf and arranging it to allow for a helmet. After writing a quick note to her parents, she stepped towards the floo.
Emily Campbell was one of the muggle-born witches and wizards who, upon finishing Hogwarts, decided to spend a year helping the ARP during the attacks on British soil. Finishing her NEWTs in the summer of 1940, there were precious few weeks of calm before the Battle of Britain began on July 10th.
Elijah MacDonald was an air commodore, and a member of Sir Charles Portal's staff. Working with the Royal Air Force's Chief of the Air, he had excellent access to early reports about Luftwaffe raids on British soil.
Elijah MacDonald was also a squib. He placed an ad in the Daily Prophet beginning on July 18th, 1940 and nearly begged for magical assistance with the aftermath of the bombing. He even offered a salary.
He only got six people, but if he sent out his owls, they came.
Emily lived the farthest from London, and was the last to arrive at the ramshackle office. Taking the last empty seat, she waited, glancing curiously at the new faces gathered around.
Elijah entered promptly at 3:45 am.
"Thank you all for coming," he began. "We have reports of an attack last night on Clydebank, Scotland. It seems the first wave of German bombers hit the Singer Corporation factory and the John Brown & Company shipyards. Later waves of bombers did some fairly extensive throughout the city. As usual, you'll be assigned a partner and a section of town…"
Elijah pushed his wire glasses back onto his nose and set down the report. "I was planning on calling you all in this afternoon to make introductions: we have two new volunteers today, sent by the Canadian Magical Council. We'll be able to send in four teams today, but I'm afraid you'll need to get to know each other in a war zone."
Being one of the most experienced with the aftermath, Emily was separated from her partner and introduced to one of the Canadians: Jean Levine.
Slightly taller than she was, he had warm brown eyes, dark hair and sun-kissed skin that spoke of the Mediterranean.
"Cherie," he said, kissing her knuckles. "Shall we go put out the fires?"
The portkey dropped them off at the traffic circle on the Great Western Road that led towards Dalmuir and Kilbowie.
It was the noise that she noticed first. The roar of the blazing fires, the pat-pat-pat of gunfire, the whine of the engines above, the boom of explosions and the air raid siren – a cacophony of destruction that chilled her to the bone. Steeling herself, Emily quickly scanned the area.
"Inritusum!"she screamed, pointing her wand at unexploded bomb a mere yard away while Jean shouted "Protego!"
Glancing at her wide eyed and trembling partner, she bit her lip.
"Welcome to muggle warfare."
Taking his hand, she continued "Keep an eye on the skies, we might need a shield to protect us from a blast once we're in town. Our goal is twofold: to extinguish fires and dig out children while staying hidden from the muggles. Can you cast a locator charm that's age specific?"
He nodded.
"Well then." She pulled the helmets emblazoned with a large letter R from her bag and handed him one. "Let's go, shall we?" Wands drawn, they headed towards Dalmuir.
They toiled for nearly two hours under the threat of the Luftwaffe attack, removing the rubble from shelters that included children and covertly helping the firemen battle the blazes. At 5:57 AM, the bombing stopped and the buzz from the planes faded into memory.
At 6:20, the all clear sounded. With the emergence of more hands to help, they apparated back to London, only to return the next night for round two.
When the last bomb fell on Clydebank at 6:25am on the morning of the 16th of March, there were only eight buildings in the small city left standing.
A/N –
The Clydebank Blitz occurred on the 13th and 14th of March, 1941 following several days of constant attacks elsewhere on British soil: London was attacked on the 8th, Portsmouth on the 9th and 10th, Birmingham on the 11th and Liverpool on the 12th.
The official counts were 528 dead, 617 injured and over 35,000 homeless, though unofficial counts put the death toll closer to 1200: the damage was so extensive after just the first night that a stream of refuges headed away from town with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Indeed, this was the only town in Britain to be evacuated due to enemy action.
The second night of the blitz was intended to destroy morale, with over a thousand tons of explosives and incendiaries dropped over the two nights… but it had a hugely polarizing effect and strengthened support for the war in Scotland instead.
This was originally written as a prequel to a story that might never see the light of day, but I feel that this stands alone just fine. I hope you enjoyed it.