It was a struggle that became a symbol of resistance against the destruction of Scottish industry.

In September 1986, the Caterpillar heavy machinery factory in Uddingston, South Lanarkshire, was promised £62.5m by its US owners to safeguard its future.

Four months later, its 1200 workers were fighting to save their jobs.

Bob Burrows, then a shop steward at the plant, says: "We thought 'this is it, we've made it. We're going to be here for the next 30 years'."

The lightning bolt came on January 14 as the US-based multinational announced it was closing its Scottish operations and they would all lose their jobs.

Mr Burrows, now a councillor, remembers the impact.

He says: "When it came it was devastating for everyone. You need to remember at that time, people were out buying houses and cars.

"My wife never bought anything in her life and she went out and bought me an expensive HiFi and within three weeks, bang."

The shutdown of the plant was one of a long list of industrial closures in Scotland in the surrounding years as protection for British manufacturing was torn apart in a rapidly changing economic era.

It was particularly galling for those at the Lanarkshire factory, who had been assured their livelihoods would continue just months before.

The underhand nature of the decision led to one of Scotland's most bitter industrial disputes.

Fellow shop steward John Gillen remembers the exact words used by managers: "The company have a problem and you are the victim of remedy."

A decision was made the very same day as the terse closure announcement. Plant workers including shop stewards Burrows, Gillen and John Kane joined convener John Brannan in a decision to occupy the Caterpillar factory.

After telling company bosses of their decision to stage a lock-in, workers seized the building.

Mr Burrows says: "Do we chain the gates? Yes. Do we put a perimeter round? Yes, so that's what we did. We just went for it."

Around 1000 workers participated in the sit-in, with managers told they could enter to collect their belongings only.

Mr Brennan, now 70, led the employee sit-in.

"The papers would have told that you were breaking the law and whatever but we were determined", he explains.

"As far as we were concerned, the laws and the rules were broken when Caterpillar decided to close it."

Bosses were unmoved by the protest, saying the decision was down to a drop in revenue, but those behind the protest were undeterred despite not being paid a penny for the entire length of the occupation, which lasted more than three months.

During their time occupying the plant, the skilled employees built a tractor which was then painted pink and named the Pink Panther.

"It was built with a purpose", says Mr Gillen.

"It was built to show management we don't need you standing about watching, we are the guys with the skills.

"Then there became this comedy about what colour we should paint it and someone said 'paint it pink, for all I care'."

It became a tool for helping to drum up support for the action and was even delivered to George Square in Glasgow.

Solidarity in the local community was not hard to find, with even those worked outside factory gates recognising the importance it had to the prosperity and community in Uddingston.

Support flooded in from around the country and even trade unions abroad visited the stricken plant to help in negotiations and deliver donations.

"We had cross-party support," says Mr Burrows.

"We had trade union support from all over Scotland. We had people sending money in. We had kids with their pocket money coming in wanting to put their 50p or 10p in. We couldn't have survived without them."

The Caterpillar plant lock-in ended after 103 days. Employees did not save their factory but came back to improved severance packages and no compulsory redundancies. They delayed its closure by months.

Now, 30 years on, many of those involved in the dispute are still close and meet to remember the occupation and friendships that survived a tough time.

In the town, the impact of the workers' bravery is still felt. And Mr Burrows is steadfast in their decision.

"We didn't win the fight," he admits. "But in a way we won the war because, you know something, the amount of comradeship that was built out of that, you can't buy that."