My grandfather served in WW2 as a radio technician or something like that, unfortunately I never had the chance to ask him about his service, something I wish I had since he passed away a couple yeara go.
Remembrance Day
- Thread starter Locutus
- Start date
Thanks Durka, unfortunatley that's an all too common problem, not knowing anything, or very little about those boys. It is possible to search the databases though and/or request information. Just in case you're ever interested.
CEF searchable database (WW1)
http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/archivianet/cef/001042-100.01-e.php
Although I found much information and was given even more about my grandfather, I was still able to pull up his record using his Regimental number from Library and Archives in the above link.
Other resources (post 1918, including WW2):
http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/genealogy/022-909.007-e.html
http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/genealogy/022-909.006-e.html
Veteran's Affairs:
http://www.vac-acc.gc.ca/general/sub.cfm?source=help/generalfaq
CEF searchable database (WW1)
http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/archivianet/cef/001042-100.01-e.php
Although I found much information and was given even more about my grandfather, I was still able to pull up his record using his Regimental number from Library and Archives in the above link.
Other resources (post 1918, including WW2):
http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/genealogy/022-909.007-e.html
http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/genealogy/022-909.006-e.html
Veteran's Affairs:
http://www.vac-acc.gc.ca/general/sub.cfm?source=help/generalfaq
Afraid the only relatives I know of who served during WW1 were an uncle of some distance. He served with the Blue Puttees and died around Galipoli. A couple of family members had something to do with the flying corps.
WW2 is a bit easier because some were still alive to meet me. My grandfather was 48th Highlanders and served the duration. His is the only service of which I know details - and he was the silent one. Two uncles were at Singapore and Hong Kong. One survived (kind of) internment. Another uncle flew Halifax bombers then went on flying with Trans
Canada Airlines and into Air Canada. A few uncles were Merchant Marine. One wiped the engines in a corvette. (Yeah ... that's what I thought too!) The only one who spoke a lot about his service was an instructor who got over to Europe about a month before it ended.
EDIT: I suppose I'd best not forget Great Auntie Kate. Until the day of her death, she kept a simple wood block - decorated only with some numbers and a Union Jack - in its special place among her collection of figurines.
My mother told me the story:
Grandma's sister lived alone. Always cheerful and active, only a few heard the tale. She had been one many who plotted the tracks of a thousand airplanes on a huge table chart of the Channel - underground somewhere in the south of Britain. That wood block was all she had left of the man she was scheduled to marry when his Hurricane vanished into the English Channel
Woof!
WW2 is a bit easier because some were still alive to meet me. My grandfather was 48th Highlanders and served the duration. His is the only service of which I know details - and he was the silent one. Two uncles were at Singapore and Hong Kong. One survived (kind of) internment. Another uncle flew Halifax bombers then went on flying with Trans
Canada Airlines and into Air Canada. A few uncles were Merchant Marine. One wiped the engines in a corvette. (Yeah ... that's what I thought too!) The only one who spoke a lot about his service was an instructor who got over to Europe about a month before it ended.
EDIT: I suppose I'd best not forget Great Auntie Kate. Until the day of her death, she kept a simple wood block - decorated only with some numbers and a Union Jack - in its special place among her collection of figurines.
My mother told me the story:
Grandma's sister lived alone. Always cheerful and active, only a few heard the tale. She had been one many who plotted the tracks of a thousand airplanes on a huge table chart of the Channel - underground somewhere in the south of Britain. That wood block was all she had left of the man she was scheduled to marry when his Hurricane vanished into the English Channel
Woof!
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My dad served the tail end of WWII too, and I'll post his story here just as soon as I can figure out how to get it off a 3.5" floppy onto this computer with no such floppy drive. I guess I'll have to e-mail it to myself from work (government job) with your, the taxpayers', permission, of course. ;-)
Great thread, Loc. Thanks!
Great thread, Loc. Thanks!
Merc... just a suggestion.
Go to futureshop and buy a USB floppy drive (about $30), load you disk in and copy the images off. Pack the drive back up and return it, claiming it caused your PC to blue screen... believe me it works
A Pittance of Time
- Terry Kelly
please click the link, read the bio and then watch the video.
http://www.army.forces.gc.ca/chief_land_staff/remembrance/English/Home.asp
- Terry Kelly
please click the link, read the bio and then watch the video.
http://www.army.forces.gc.ca/chief_land_staff/remembrance/English/Home.asp
To me it is that one day, we all (should) stop, unite and give thanx to those that selflessly put themselves in harms way, to defend what we hold most dear.
Yes, many, including myself and soon my sons. It has been a tradition in my family since before Canada was born. We have all served her, in one way or another, with her uniform on our backs.
Nothing to forgive...beautifully put.
My inspiration was my Grand Father and my Father. I was raised by my Grand Father an Onondaga Brave and MWO In the Canadian Army. As a Medic, he served on the frontlines in the European theater and in the after math of the fall of Japan, he served aboard the hospital ships that brought home the POW's. He again served on the frontlines in Korea. He never talked about it much, but as a Medic, he brought home alot of baggage that never sat well with him.
My Father served in the Canadian Army, he was stationed in Germany for a single tour, he felt he could better serve his nation by policing the community he was born from and at that time all reservations fell under Federal juricdiction, so he joined the RCMP.
He never made the impact or difference he wanted to, but he faced the FLQ during Black October and served in the Narcotics Bureau before retiring.
I'm also reminded of the service and sacrifice, my community has made over the years...
Removing the Mask
Dear Bear
Glad you could make it with your story to share - hoped you would find this thread. It brings out the best in what forums could be - not just on one special day but for many days during the year. People exchanging in positive ways.
Glad you could make it with your story to share - hoped you would find this thread. It brings out the best in what forums could be - not just on one special day but for many days during the year. People exchanging in positive ways.
Besides a few nephews still serving in the gulf on tanker ships and one about to retire that served as a peace keeper in Palestine, I have a now deceased brother-in-law that was a sniper stationed in Italy in WWII.
I still remember one story he told us when I was still a youth about the time he was in a tree and a German patrol decided to stop under that tree and have little campfire lunch....too many to shoot he said and the smoke was killing him.....just when he was ready to go for it, they decided to move along.......the only story he ever told us.
Years later....a good drinking buddy of his was a German prisoner of war that decided to remain in Canada.
Sometimes old enemies make the best of friends.........
I still remember one story he told us when I was still a youth about the time he was in a tree and a German patrol decided to stop under that tree and have little campfire lunch....too many to shoot he said and the smoke was killing him.....just when he was ready to go for it, they decided to move along.......the only story he ever told us.
Years later....a good drinking buddy of his was a German prisoner of war that decided to remain in Canada.
Sometimes old enemies make the best of friends.........
DaSleeper
Too bad the generals and politicians don't take a vote of the military and the regular public before starting wars eh?
Wonder how many would have been passed on.... Enemies are often friends who haven't met yet because they've been on the other team.
I've often wondered if we sent early teens from as many lands as possible on a global journey for a year of their lives to get to know other young people in other nations.... staying perhaps two weeks in each destination.... both comfortable and uncomfortable for them.... They would be a walking talking source of information for us... and as they mature, their experiences could change the direction of how we think solution to all of humanity's problems lie in war.
Even the peace corps is subject to political whim and machination and the members have already incorporated their ideologies.... we must reach the young before they become set in their rhetorical thought.
Edit: And I have politicized this topic....I apologize....will remove it if Locutus requests.
Reading all of the posts here had me thinking how many lives have been donated to our wars... young people cut down in their early prime.... lost forever. Our most valuable natural resource.
Too bad the generals and politicians don't take a vote of the military and the regular public before starting wars eh?
Wonder how many would have been passed on.... Enemies are often friends who haven't met yet because they've been on the other team.
I've often wondered if we sent early teens from as many lands as possible on a global journey for a year of their lives to get to know other young people in other nations.... staying perhaps two weeks in each destination.... both comfortable and uncomfortable for them.... They would be a walking talking source of information for us... and as they mature, their experiences could change the direction of how we think solution to all of humanity's problems lie in war.
Even the peace corps is subject to political whim and machination and the members have already incorporated their ideologies.... we must reach the young before they become set in their rhetorical thought.
Edit: And I have politicized this topic....I apologize....will remove it if Locutus requests.
Reading all of the posts here had me thinking how many lives have been donated to our wars... young people cut down in their early prime.... lost forever. Our most valuable natural resource.
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okay, no time right now to catch up with the latest entries... gotta get back to work!
My dad was inspired to write these few memories when he was sent a copy of a book called Endurance. The rest, as they say, is history. Hope you like it.
*********************************
Aug/97
Don
I received my copy of this book from the widow of our co-pilot, Marjorie Ingram. The book has been well researched and is reasonably accurate about the activities we were involved in during the war. I have since purchased four more copies of the book; one for each of my sons.
I suggest you read the book before you read my letter which is enclosed. Enjoy.
Dad
17 February 1997
Dear Marjorie
Yes, I was tickled pink to receive the book you sent to us. "Endurance" did bring back alot of memories. I have to confess that some of my recollections don't match up with accounts of our crew as stated, and I can only refer to the statement on page 58 that "50 years later memory must play occasional tricks."
My recollection of the account given by Allan Edgar on page 96 was that it was Christmas Eve 1944 that we made contact with a schnorkel, dropped sonobuoys around midnight, heard a bell and subsequently heard some singing in German. The unique part was that they were singing Christmas carols that were clearly recognizable except for the language.
Again the prang shown on page 162 and the related account on page 187 doesn't match with my memory. The crash occurred on takeoff after a tire blew out just at lift off speed, causing the aircraft to go into a ground loop with the resulting prang. The wing tank in the wing touching the ground burst spewing gasoline over the escape hatch at the same time the tire that blew caught fire which meant that we got soaked with gas and had to jump through the fire as we escaped. Wilf was first out and I was second mainly because we were sitting right under the escape hatch. The whole crew cleared the aircraft in 20 seconds with only Bert Booth, the tail gunner, exiting from the tail turret. Fortunately there were no serious injuries, although maybe Allan did break his ankle, I don't remember.
The crew picture on page 131 has been incorrectly identified. The back row is reversed R to L and I'm second from the right. Wilf is first left in the front row and the unidentified RAF on the right is Bill Mayes.
Again, the account related on page 184 doesn't match with my memory. My recollection is that we were flying the MK Liberator where the navigator sat directly behind the skipper. We hit a seagull on takeoff and there was blood and guts all over the place only I recall it coming through the copilots window and it was Arthur and Allan who did the most to stem the gale coming through the opening. Whatever, it was harrowing.
Another inconsistency is in Appendix 2 where they show Arthur leaving the squadron on Feb. 28, 1945. My recollection is that Arthur remained on our crew until operations ceased in June, 1945. As a matter of fact in the picture of the crash on May 10, 1945, I'm pretty sure that that is Arthur walking away from the aircraft when we went down to see the damage the next day.
I thought I would relate some stories that were not told but about which you no doubt heard from Arthur.
We first met and formed a crew in Nassau in the Bahamas. Arthur selected Wilf, Hardrock(*), Tex, and myself as his crew and we started flying B25 Mitchells in the fall of 1943. Some time later we converted to B24's and we all became part of Harry Pooles' crew. Harry had already done a tour of duty on Coastal Command flying Hudsons and Wellingtons. He was restaffing for a second tour of duty. Since the B24 was a much larger aircraft we picked up the engineer, Harry Andrews, and the three RAF gunners.
On one of our final trips out of Nassau we were sent to do an anti-submarine patrol off the coast of North Carolina. The "met" forecast was for clear skies and low winds so it looked like it would be a piece of cake. We took off early in the day and did our patrol to the wee hours of the morning when we started back..I asked Bill Mayes, the tail gunner, for a bearing and he gave me a reading of 30 degrees West which meant we were in a gale. Since Bill had just joined our crew I thought maybe he didn't know how to take a drift and I chose to ignore his reading and continue with the met forecast. I then asked Wilf to get me a radio fix but that resulted in a position that was quite distant from where I thought we were. While continuing on a straight course, I received another group of fixes which formed an arc of about 200 miles. I clearly didn't know where we were. I chose the last fix given to me as being correct and plotted a course from there back to base which was due west. Fortunately we came straight home, albeit about an hour late. I learned a lesson that you had to rely on everone in the crew knowing how to do their job. On reflection, it seems that we got caught in the Bermuda Triangle where unusual atmospheric conditions occur, and we were lucky to find our way out.
Shortly after that we were transferred back to Montreal for the purpose of flying a new Liberator to India. It was early spring of 1944 and the weather in Montreal was terrible. After about 6 aborted attempts to leave Dorval due to weather or lack of aircraft we were posted overseas and crossed the Atlantic in a crowded troop ship. It was not the most pleasant experience. We arrived in Gloucester about the beginning of May, 1944, and we were immediately posted to Ballykelly to join 120 squadron.
Once established on the squadron we made some uneventful missions, but some of the trips were memorable and I will relate some of these, although not necessarily in chronological order.
The normal routine on the squadron was to fly a mission of up to 24 hours after which there was a day to rest, a day off, a day of ground training, a day of air training, and then off on another mission. It was a five day cycle and every three months there would be a week or two of leave. Quite often, we would take the two days off after a trip and go to Belfast and do the "rounds". At other times, the crew was billeted together in a Nissen hut (except for the officers) and we would scrounge coal together to keep the pot belly stove going and wait for the welcome cry of "NAFFI up", which was the refreshment truck. My favorite was custard tarts.
On one trip we were sent out to escort one of the Queens. We reached our destination, made contact by Aldis lamp, and proceeded to stooge around the ship for about 10 hours. When the mission was complete we again contacted the ship to say that we were leaving and they responded with a message that we had difficulty receiving, partly because it was a four stacker, and partly because aircrew were not as adept at reading the Aldis lamp as the sailors were. After circling the ship about ten times we finally collectively figured out they were saying "thank you"!
And then of course there was "D-day". During the briefing we weren't told that we were taking part in the invasion of Europe, we were merely told to do an anti-submarine patrol off the coast of France near Brest. No need to say when we arrived on the scene in the early hours of June 6, 1944, we were startled at the number of ships and aircraft in the area. The sea was literally black with ships, the sky was black with aircraft, there was black smoke and red flames billowing up from the ground, and we were stooginhg around at 500 ft. being in kind of a loge seat at a theatre watching it all go on.
One of the most harrowing trips we had occurred when we took off we had a hydraulic system failure and the wheels couldn't be raised. Since our previous two missions had ended withe some kind of a mechanical failure, the skipper asked Harry how long it would take him to fix it. Harry said he thought he could have it working in about 1 1/2 hours so the skipper decided to carry on with the mission while Harry fixed the hydraulic system. We were to meet one of the Queens in mid-Atlantic for escort duty and it would take about 3 hours to get there. The skipper got the aircraft up to about 1000 ft. with the wheels still down but after about an hour we had an engine failure; shortly after that another engine went and then a third. We were losing height fairly quickly when the skipper ordered us to throw everything out and jettison whatever we could. It sure looked like we would have to ditch and with the wheels down chances of survival would have been slim. When I jettisoned the acoustic torpedoes in the excitement I forgot to put them on 'safe', so they went down live. We had to send "SOS"'s and I'll never forget our position - it was TARE, OBOE, ZEBRA, EASY, FIFE, FIFE, FIFE, FIFE. With all the other things that were going wrong the intercom was intermittant and I had a heck of a time getting our position through to Tex, but he finally received it and sent out about 28 SOS's. We were about 300 miles out to sea due west of Ireland. After we had thrown everything that was movable overboard the skipper and Arthur were able to maintain height on just one engine but we were so close to the surface that they had to make a 'flat' turn using the rudders only. As gasoline was being used they were gradually able to gain some height. I was able to locate a pass in the Donegal Mountains at 1200 feet and we just got through that and made it back to Base with about zero fuel left. My shorts were the same colour as a baby's diaper. We all thought we were going to die. The next day we learned that none of our SOS's had been received, likely because of our proximity to the Donegal Mountains. We also heard that someone had blown up the Irish fishing fleet.
On one of our training exercises we were to intercept a Polish sub in the North Sea and practice using the Leigh light. We would find the 'blip' on the radar screen, home on it, turn the Leigh light on, the Polish sub would dive, we would drop our dummy 10 1/2 pound bombs, take pictures, and then go away about 15 miles and repeat the exercise. We did this about a half dozen times and on the next run we homed onto a 'blip' that turned out to be a Canadian Corvette which surprised both us and them. We didn't drop our bombs but the bomb bay doors were open. The next trip we took to Belfast a couple of days later we shared a compartment with some Canadian sailors and heard them talking about the plane that had surprised them with a Leigh light attack. When we told them that it was us, they said we were lucky because their skipper was so furious he was ordering them to shoot us down. We had a good party in Belfast.
On another training exercise we were to have gunnery practice on some numbered targets that were located in a lake in the middle of Northern Ireland. The targets were numbered from 1 to 12 and our exercise was to shoot out targets 5, 6, 7, and 8. Hardrock was in the upper turret and he had the first go. On the first pass he destroyed 9, 10, 11, and 12. The skipper said "Hardrock, you're supposed to aim at 5, 6, 7, and 8." Hardrock said "Sorry skipper, my aim was a little off. Let's make another pass." On the next pass, Hardrock took out 1, 2, 3, and 4, and when we left only 5, 6, 7, and 8 were left standing. I think the skipper was a little chagrined but he knew that Hardrock was a good gunner.
At one particular time we were fifth on the availability list for operations. There was a squadron party that night and since there were rarely more than four missions flown on any given day, at our urging, the skipper requested permission for our crew to attend the party which was granted. At 2:AM after partying all evening long we were called to the operations room for a briefing. When we took off a couple of hours later everyone was really beat. When the skipper got up to about 1200 ft. he asked for a course to our destination, put George on (the automatic pilot), and we all fell asleep. Three hours later I was the first to awaken, checked our position by LORAN and we were right on target. We were excorting one of the Queens and nothing further unusual happened - although this may have been the Aldis lamp trip, I'm not sure.
On one of our leaves we were all going to London for a change of scenery. We had to take the train to Belfast, take another to Larne, take the boat to Stranauer, and then another train to London. On the boat I became ill and by the time we reached London I was really sick. Hardrock volunteered to stay with me in a Canadian hostel until I felt better but he eventually had to call the resident nurse who thought I had malaria and was able to get me to a hospital. I finally was diagnosed as having meningitis and I was a pretty sick kid for a few days. I had to have some lumbar punctures which were very painful, but with proper treatment I was eventually cured. Altogether I was in the hospital about three weeks and then I had to take another three weeks convalescence leave, so I missed about a month of duty with the crew. I remember Arthur visiting me at the hospital during his vacation but as I recall I was not quite with it at the time. Also while in hospital I remember a V2 landing nearby and the whole building shook. My dad had a couple of girlfriends (sisters) from the first world war and they came to visit me in the hospital. I later spent my convalescence period with them. They had a nice home in Seaford, Sussex.
Back on the squadron we had a trip where I was standing on the flight deck on takeoff and we ran into some turbulence. I made a grab to support myself and managed to stick my little finger into a cooling fan. A section of my little finger was partly lopped off through the centre of the nail. Arthur put on disinfectant and bandaged the finger. It didn't feel sore and I wanted to take my regular shift but they wouldn't let me and Allan navigated the whole trip. When we got back to base I didn't realize the skipper had radioed that there was a casualty on board and as soon as we landed an ambulance met us at the end of the runway and they rushed me to medical quarters. I remember the MO was quite upset when he found the casualty merely had a cut little pinky. He had been called out of the movie.
There is one recollection that I have that doesn't stand up to scrutiny. My recollection is that the Bismark reappeared after the Allies thought it was sunk (records show that that was May, 1941, before I was old enough to be in the service). In any event, a battleship had taken refuge in the fiords near Trondheim, Norway. There was going to be a 1000 bomber RAF raid to try to flush out the battleship. On our mission we flew to Wick in Northern Scotland and then we proceeded to fly to the Trondheim area to do a square search (CLA) for subs. Our orders were not to shoot unless we were fired upon because we were so close to enemy territory. Shortly after we started our search we passed a Blohm & Voss doing a similar search and we passed them on each adjacent leg. They had obviously been given the same orders, so each time we passed, the crews waved at each other. I still don't know which battleship it was. A friend of mine has suggested it might have been the Tirpitz, but in my recollection it is still the Bismark.
After VE day we were tasked to round up the subs in the Atlantic which took us about a month to complete. The picture on page 189 of the book shows some of the subs we brought in tied to dock in Londonderry. Subsequently we were allowed to go down to meet our adversaries in the subs. They were a bunch of young guys like us who I'm sure were just as happy as we were that the war was over.
Well, my dear, I hope I haven't bored you to tears with my tales.
Mary Jo joins me in wishing you well, and thanks again for the book.
Best regards,
Don H
My dad was inspired to write these few memories when he was sent a copy of a book called Endurance. The rest, as they say, is history. Hope you like it.
*********************************
Aug/97
Don
I received my copy of this book from the widow of our co-pilot, Marjorie Ingram. The book has been well researched and is reasonably accurate about the activities we were involved in during the war. I have since purchased four more copies of the book; one for each of my sons.
I suggest you read the book before you read my letter which is enclosed. Enjoy.
Dad
17 February 1997
Dear Marjorie
Yes, I was tickled pink to receive the book you sent to us. "Endurance" did bring back alot of memories. I have to confess that some of my recollections don't match up with accounts of our crew as stated, and I can only refer to the statement on page 58 that "50 years later memory must play occasional tricks."
My recollection of the account given by Allan Edgar on page 96 was that it was Christmas Eve 1944 that we made contact with a schnorkel, dropped sonobuoys around midnight, heard a bell and subsequently heard some singing in German. The unique part was that they were singing Christmas carols that were clearly recognizable except for the language.
Again the prang shown on page 162 and the related account on page 187 doesn't match with my memory. The crash occurred on takeoff after a tire blew out just at lift off speed, causing the aircraft to go into a ground loop with the resulting prang. The wing tank in the wing touching the ground burst spewing gasoline over the escape hatch at the same time the tire that blew caught fire which meant that we got soaked with gas and had to jump through the fire as we escaped. Wilf was first out and I was second mainly because we were sitting right under the escape hatch. The whole crew cleared the aircraft in 20 seconds with only Bert Booth, the tail gunner, exiting from the tail turret. Fortunately there were no serious injuries, although maybe Allan did break his ankle, I don't remember.
The crew picture on page 131 has been incorrectly identified. The back row is reversed R to L and I'm second from the right. Wilf is first left in the front row and the unidentified RAF on the right is Bill Mayes.
Again, the account related on page 184 doesn't match with my memory. My recollection is that we were flying the MK Liberator where the navigator sat directly behind the skipper. We hit a seagull on takeoff and there was blood and guts all over the place only I recall it coming through the copilots window and it was Arthur and Allan who did the most to stem the gale coming through the opening. Whatever, it was harrowing.
Another inconsistency is in Appendix 2 where they show Arthur leaving the squadron on Feb. 28, 1945. My recollection is that Arthur remained on our crew until operations ceased in June, 1945. As a matter of fact in the picture of the crash on May 10, 1945, I'm pretty sure that that is Arthur walking away from the aircraft when we went down to see the damage the next day.
I thought I would relate some stories that were not told but about which you no doubt heard from Arthur.
We first met and formed a crew in Nassau in the Bahamas. Arthur selected Wilf, Hardrock(*), Tex, and myself as his crew and we started flying B25 Mitchells in the fall of 1943. Some time later we converted to B24's and we all became part of Harry Pooles' crew. Harry had already done a tour of duty on Coastal Command flying Hudsons and Wellingtons. He was restaffing for a second tour of duty. Since the B24 was a much larger aircraft we picked up the engineer, Harry Andrews, and the three RAF gunners.
On one of our final trips out of Nassau we were sent to do an anti-submarine patrol off the coast of North Carolina. The "met" forecast was for clear skies and low winds so it looked like it would be a piece of cake. We took off early in the day and did our patrol to the wee hours of the morning when we started back..I asked Bill Mayes, the tail gunner, for a bearing and he gave me a reading of 30 degrees West which meant we were in a gale. Since Bill had just joined our crew I thought maybe he didn't know how to take a drift and I chose to ignore his reading and continue with the met forecast. I then asked Wilf to get me a radio fix but that resulted in a position that was quite distant from where I thought we were. While continuing on a straight course, I received another group of fixes which formed an arc of about 200 miles. I clearly didn't know where we were. I chose the last fix given to me as being correct and plotted a course from there back to base which was due west. Fortunately we came straight home, albeit about an hour late. I learned a lesson that you had to rely on everone in the crew knowing how to do their job. On reflection, it seems that we got caught in the Bermuda Triangle where unusual atmospheric conditions occur, and we were lucky to find our way out.
Shortly after that we were transferred back to Montreal for the purpose of flying a new Liberator to India. It was early spring of 1944 and the weather in Montreal was terrible. After about 6 aborted attempts to leave Dorval due to weather or lack of aircraft we were posted overseas and crossed the Atlantic in a crowded troop ship. It was not the most pleasant experience. We arrived in Gloucester about the beginning of May, 1944, and we were immediately posted to Ballykelly to join 120 squadron.
Once established on the squadron we made some uneventful missions, but some of the trips were memorable and I will relate some of these, although not necessarily in chronological order.
The normal routine on the squadron was to fly a mission of up to 24 hours after which there was a day to rest, a day off, a day of ground training, a day of air training, and then off on another mission. It was a five day cycle and every three months there would be a week or two of leave. Quite often, we would take the two days off after a trip and go to Belfast and do the "rounds". At other times, the crew was billeted together in a Nissen hut (except for the officers) and we would scrounge coal together to keep the pot belly stove going and wait for the welcome cry of "NAFFI up", which was the refreshment truck. My favorite was custard tarts.
On one trip we were sent out to escort one of the Queens. We reached our destination, made contact by Aldis lamp, and proceeded to stooge around the ship for about 10 hours. When the mission was complete we again contacted the ship to say that we were leaving and they responded with a message that we had difficulty receiving, partly because it was a four stacker, and partly because aircrew were not as adept at reading the Aldis lamp as the sailors were. After circling the ship about ten times we finally collectively figured out they were saying "thank you"!
And then of course there was "D-day". During the briefing we weren't told that we were taking part in the invasion of Europe, we were merely told to do an anti-submarine patrol off the coast of France near Brest. No need to say when we arrived on the scene in the early hours of June 6, 1944, we were startled at the number of ships and aircraft in the area. The sea was literally black with ships, the sky was black with aircraft, there was black smoke and red flames billowing up from the ground, and we were stooginhg around at 500 ft. being in kind of a loge seat at a theatre watching it all go on.
One of the most harrowing trips we had occurred when we took off we had a hydraulic system failure and the wheels couldn't be raised. Since our previous two missions had ended withe some kind of a mechanical failure, the skipper asked Harry how long it would take him to fix it. Harry said he thought he could have it working in about 1 1/2 hours so the skipper decided to carry on with the mission while Harry fixed the hydraulic system. We were to meet one of the Queens in mid-Atlantic for escort duty and it would take about 3 hours to get there. The skipper got the aircraft up to about 1000 ft. with the wheels still down but after about an hour we had an engine failure; shortly after that another engine went and then a third. We were losing height fairly quickly when the skipper ordered us to throw everything out and jettison whatever we could. It sure looked like we would have to ditch and with the wheels down chances of survival would have been slim. When I jettisoned the acoustic torpedoes in the excitement I forgot to put them on 'safe', so they went down live. We had to send "SOS"'s and I'll never forget our position - it was TARE, OBOE, ZEBRA, EASY, FIFE, FIFE, FIFE, FIFE. With all the other things that were going wrong the intercom was intermittant and I had a heck of a time getting our position through to Tex, but he finally received it and sent out about 28 SOS's. We were about 300 miles out to sea due west of Ireland. After we had thrown everything that was movable overboard the skipper and Arthur were able to maintain height on just one engine but we were so close to the surface that they had to make a 'flat' turn using the rudders only. As gasoline was being used they were gradually able to gain some height. I was able to locate a pass in the Donegal Mountains at 1200 feet and we just got through that and made it back to Base with about zero fuel left. My shorts were the same colour as a baby's diaper. We all thought we were going to die. The next day we learned that none of our SOS's had been received, likely because of our proximity to the Donegal Mountains. We also heard that someone had blown up the Irish fishing fleet.
On one of our training exercises we were to intercept a Polish sub in the North Sea and practice using the Leigh light. We would find the 'blip' on the radar screen, home on it, turn the Leigh light on, the Polish sub would dive, we would drop our dummy 10 1/2 pound bombs, take pictures, and then go away about 15 miles and repeat the exercise. We did this about a half dozen times and on the next run we homed onto a 'blip' that turned out to be a Canadian Corvette which surprised both us and them. We didn't drop our bombs but the bomb bay doors were open. The next trip we took to Belfast a couple of days later we shared a compartment with some Canadian sailors and heard them talking about the plane that had surprised them with a Leigh light attack. When we told them that it was us, they said we were lucky because their skipper was so furious he was ordering them to shoot us down. We had a good party in Belfast.
On another training exercise we were to have gunnery practice on some numbered targets that were located in a lake in the middle of Northern Ireland. The targets were numbered from 1 to 12 and our exercise was to shoot out targets 5, 6, 7, and 8. Hardrock was in the upper turret and he had the first go. On the first pass he destroyed 9, 10, 11, and 12. The skipper said "Hardrock, you're supposed to aim at 5, 6, 7, and 8." Hardrock said "Sorry skipper, my aim was a little off. Let's make another pass." On the next pass, Hardrock took out 1, 2, 3, and 4, and when we left only 5, 6, 7, and 8 were left standing. I think the skipper was a little chagrined but he knew that Hardrock was a good gunner.
At one particular time we were fifth on the availability list for operations. There was a squadron party that night and since there were rarely more than four missions flown on any given day, at our urging, the skipper requested permission for our crew to attend the party which was granted. At 2:AM after partying all evening long we were called to the operations room for a briefing. When we took off a couple of hours later everyone was really beat. When the skipper got up to about 1200 ft. he asked for a course to our destination, put George on (the automatic pilot), and we all fell asleep. Three hours later I was the first to awaken, checked our position by LORAN and we were right on target. We were excorting one of the Queens and nothing further unusual happened - although this may have been the Aldis lamp trip, I'm not sure.
On one of our leaves we were all going to London for a change of scenery. We had to take the train to Belfast, take another to Larne, take the boat to Stranauer, and then another train to London. On the boat I became ill and by the time we reached London I was really sick. Hardrock volunteered to stay with me in a Canadian hostel until I felt better but he eventually had to call the resident nurse who thought I had malaria and was able to get me to a hospital. I finally was diagnosed as having meningitis and I was a pretty sick kid for a few days. I had to have some lumbar punctures which were very painful, but with proper treatment I was eventually cured. Altogether I was in the hospital about three weeks and then I had to take another three weeks convalescence leave, so I missed about a month of duty with the crew. I remember Arthur visiting me at the hospital during his vacation but as I recall I was not quite with it at the time. Also while in hospital I remember a V2 landing nearby and the whole building shook. My dad had a couple of girlfriends (sisters) from the first world war and they came to visit me in the hospital. I later spent my convalescence period with them. They had a nice home in Seaford, Sussex.
Back on the squadron we had a trip where I was standing on the flight deck on takeoff and we ran into some turbulence. I made a grab to support myself and managed to stick my little finger into a cooling fan. A section of my little finger was partly lopped off through the centre of the nail. Arthur put on disinfectant and bandaged the finger. It didn't feel sore and I wanted to take my regular shift but they wouldn't let me and Allan navigated the whole trip. When we got back to base I didn't realize the skipper had radioed that there was a casualty on board and as soon as we landed an ambulance met us at the end of the runway and they rushed me to medical quarters. I remember the MO was quite upset when he found the casualty merely had a cut little pinky. He had been called out of the movie.
There is one recollection that I have that doesn't stand up to scrutiny. My recollection is that the Bismark reappeared after the Allies thought it was sunk (records show that that was May, 1941, before I was old enough to be in the service). In any event, a battleship had taken refuge in the fiords near Trondheim, Norway. There was going to be a 1000 bomber RAF raid to try to flush out the battleship. On our mission we flew to Wick in Northern Scotland and then we proceeded to fly to the Trondheim area to do a square search (CLA) for subs. Our orders were not to shoot unless we were fired upon because we were so close to enemy territory. Shortly after we started our search we passed a Blohm & Voss doing a similar search and we passed them on each adjacent leg. They had obviously been given the same orders, so each time we passed, the crews waved at each other. I still don't know which battleship it was. A friend of mine has suggested it might have been the Tirpitz, but in my recollection it is still the Bismark.
After VE day we were tasked to round up the subs in the Atlantic which took us about a month to complete. The picture on page 189 of the book shows some of the subs we brought in tied to dock in Londonderry. Subsequently we were allowed to go down to meet our adversaries in the subs. They were a bunch of young guys like us who I'm sure were just as happy as we were that the war was over.
Well, my dear, I hope I haven't bored you to tears with my tales.
Mary Jo joins me in wishing you well, and thanks again for the book.
Best regards,
Don H
55 Merc
That was outstanding! A movie could evolve from that small piece of historical record. Truly moving stuff.... thank you for posting it here.
God I love this thread....
That was outstanding! A movie could evolve from that small piece of historical record. Truly moving stuff.... thank you for posting it here.
God I love this thread....
I went looking for the poem: In Flanders Fields but came up with so much on the Wikipedia page I decided to post the link if anyone has time to peruse some of the information there....
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_Flanders_Fields.....
And of course the familiar poem
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_Flanders_Fields.....
And of course the familiar poem
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— John McCrae
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— John McCrae
I have a book of poetry my mother gave me some time ago. It has works by McCrae and many others. My favourite of the book is a poem that explains why so many of the great heroes did not wish to speak of the war. There will always be those who confuse the sober days of remembrance as a celebration. But that is not correct. This poem with it's descriptive language shows how it is anything but sweet and fitting to die for ones country. It is a sacrifice that is given, and it is not to be celebrated. It is to be lamented as the failings of our pride, and of the proliferation of our ignorance.
Dulce et Decorum Est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-nines that dropped behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime ...
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
~Wilfred Owen
Dulce et Decorum Est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-nines that dropped behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime ...
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
~Wilfred Owen
Tonington - that was a rough read - I had never seen it before but I had chills getting through it...
I was reminded of watching film of the landings at Normandie where the barges unloaded their precious cargo - many of whom drowned under the weight of their gear they were carrying as soon as they hit the water.... many others who followed walked on their bodies to reach the shoreline...some were part of the landing on the beaches - in death.
I was reminded of watching film of the landings at Normandie where the barges unloaded their precious cargo - many of whom drowned under the weight of their gear they were carrying as soon as they hit the water.... many others who followed walked on their bodies to reach the shoreline...some were part of the landing on the beaches - in death.