A woman’s shoe was thrown from the back of the crowd, only just missing the head of a small, red-haired girl. The man gripping the terrified child’s hand paused to stare at their accusers. A brief, solitary act of defiance which saw louder, and even more venomous, abuse rain down upon the shackled marchers.
“Dirty scum!” the angry crowd shouted. “Die traitors!”
My Dotti and her friends joined in the shouting. But despite her words I knew Dotti was just as frightened as those being taken to the fields today. We were all frightened – next time it might be us.