Many's the wartime trip over this bridge - I'd've been two at the time of this screen. My gandps told me of watching Turnhouse Spits attacking Luftwaffe bombers trying to hit the bridge.



Olderndirt wrote:QUOTE (Olderndirt @ Jul 30 2011,2:33 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>Many's the wartime trip over this bridge - I'd've been two at the time of this screen. My gandps told me of watching Turnhouse Spits attacking Luftwaffe bombers trying to hit the bridge.
Very nice shot looking south. Been over it a few times myself, cost me a fortune throwing pennies!
The Luftwaffe were actually attacking the adjacent Rosyth naval base and a spit of 602 sqn shot down the first enemy plane of the war. Read this.
steelsporran wrote:QUOTE (steelsporran @ Jul 29 2011,9:31 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>Very nice shot looking south. Been over it a few times myself, cost me a fortune throwing pennies!My 'out the window' contributions were never more than a halfpenny, sometimes just a farthing. Just lowering the window with that leather strap was pure excitement. When I stayed with my Aunt and Uncle in Inverkeithing, I could ride my bike to Rosyth and see some of the ships.
The Luftwaffe were actually attacking the adjacent Rosyth naval base and a spit of 602 sqn shot down the first enemy plane of the war. Read this.
steelsporran wrote:QUOTE (steelsporran @ Jul 30 2011,4:18 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>It would have been cheaper if we'd kept the window shutÂFor luck - it worked. 2011 and we're on this forum still blethering away.![]()
We also would have avoided a cinder in the eye. Most times the copper hit the girders, I wonder how much there is out there, why did we do it?Â
Ian Warren wrote:QUOTE (Ian Warren @ Jul 31 2011,5:49 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>I can't understand how they missed a target like that during WWII , there was something about the bridge 10 days on news , photos off construction , missed the lead story .
All down the River Forth are/were Anti aircraft fortresses both sides of the river and on the Islands in the middle aswell as picket ships sitting outside the river estuary
Inchmickery
Crammond
Inchgarvie
plus as stated Turnhouse (Edinburgh Airport) you also had HMS Condor (Arbroath), HMS Jackdaw II (Crail) and also RAF East Fortune.
Bruce
bruce448 wrote:QUOTE (bruce448 @ Jul 31 2011,9:06 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>I used to live in South Queensferry for nearly 10 years, the sight of the bridges evryday going to school, what do you expect with the name Bruce.Bruce - My Aunt and Uncle Ella and Charlie Wilson lived in South Queensferry. They had one of those little prefabs out on the Hopetoun Road, across from a little park with swings and such. Charlie worked for the butcher shop on the west end of the main street, at the bottom of the hill. Spent summers out there between '47 and '52 - swam in the old harbor, watched them climb the greasy pole and rode with Charlie in his butcher van - out to Hopetoun House and the Dundas Castle estates. My grandparents worked for Lord Dundas before the war. In my day, there was only the one bridge. Crossing the road bridge, that first time, was quite an experience.
Cracking shots Dave
Bruce
Olderndirt wrote:QUOTE (Olderndirt @ Aug 1 2011,1:42 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>Bruce - My Aunt and Uncle Ella and Charlie Wilson lived in South Queensferry. They had one of those little prefabs out on the Hopetoun Road, across from a little park with swings and such. Charlie worked for the butcher shop on the west end of the main street, at the bottom of the hill. Spent summers out there between '47 and '52 - swam in the old harbor, watched them climb the greasy pole and rode with Charlie in his butcher van - out to Hopetoun House and the Dundas Castle estates. My grandparents worked for Lord Dundas before the war. In my day, there was only the one bridge. Crossing the road bridge, that first time, was quite an experience.
Dave what a small world, I used to be a Ghillie on the Hopetoun Estate until I joined the Marines (Royal of course where I put my poaching skills to better useand lived on the Loan about 100 yards from your uncles butcher shop.
Bruce