time, like a silent river (7)

Remembering a World at War

"Every year on Remembrance Day, with cold arthritic feet and a red and runny nose, I attend the services at the war memorial in Ottawa and think of my former buddies, those other aircrew members who died in the bloom of their youth. I grieve for all of those boys, for that's what they were..." James Cameron Lovelace, Sydney, Nova Scotia [page 21, VOICES OF A WAR REMEMBERED]

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Today's quote -

When eight weeks of training were over... we really were proud
and put on a display of marching never seen before or since in Hamilton.
Shoulders square, arms swinging shoulder high, thousands watched and we
were roundly cheered and applauded. This was a proud moment long
remembered... Doug Harrison, Naval memoirs

Today's story - 

Important Days of Training 

Canada's population was between 11 and 12 million people when World War 2 began and the professional nucleus of the armed forces numbered less than 10,000 professionals. The number quickly grew to over half a million by 1941 and approached three-quarters of a million in 1944, including 37,000 women in uniform. The war effort benefitted from the eagerness of the raw recruits who in turn were rewarded with important new skills.

Bob Robinson, Regina, says the following about what good training meant to him:

     Now, I joined the infantry in November of '42, a year out

     of high school. I knew nothing. By some fluke, somebody

     who pushed the buttons and cranked the levers said... (I)

     wasn't the right sort for infantry, so after my advanced

     training at Shilo I was put into the RCE, the engineers.

     That reduced my chances of going overseas because engineers

     were needed in Canada, too. I learned carpentry, and it

     wasn't rough carpentry either. Finishing work. Who do you

     think put in the officers' mess at Vimy Barracks and at Shilo?

     Us. Me. I learned carpentry and welding and plumbing and

     other trades, too, and I got a trades education. It was a form

     of college. I was learning something which would help me on

     Civvie Street and I'm damn glad for it.

     [pg. 21-22, The Veterans' Years]

[Toronto Transit Commission Reserve Army Float, April 10,1943

Photo from National Archives of Canada]

Training experiences, locations and outcomes greatly varied. Few could imagine where all of it would lead. Reg Knight from Huntsville tells the following story:

     Back in January... (1943), I had just finished a general

     reconnaissance course at the RCAF station in Summerside, PEI.

     A group of us were sitting around a common room, yakking up

     a storm, and waiting to find out... where we would be posted.

     A flight lieutenant walked in came up to me and without

     preamble said, "Knight, where do you want to go, Patricia Bay,

     British Columbia, or Nassau in the Bahamas?"

     I just sat there with my mouth wide open, required to make

     a decision which would determine my future and whether my

     life even had much of a future. I said, "What's at Pat Bay?" He

     replied, "An operational training unit for torpedo bombers."

     ...This didn't seem to auger well for a long and happy life with

     the girl I intended to marry as soon as they gave me some time

     off. I asked, "What's at Nassau?" He said, "An operational training

     unit for long range anti-submarine patrol in four engined aircraft."

     Well, since I always liked to have a comfortable number of

     engines out there, all working, Nassau seemed like the place

     for me... (and) when I had absorbed all the training they could

     pour into me on this side of the Atlantic, the next step was

     England. My job was navigator on a B-17 Flying Fortress which

     most airmen simply called, "The Fort." Our job was anti-submarine

     patrol and convoy escort, which could often be very routine.

     Often but not always. (Great adventures followed for Reg.)

     [pg. 27 - 28, VOICES OF A WAR REMEMBERED]

["Sign up, then shut up"; Photo of war poster

from National Archives of Canada]

Though my father was considered 'lower deck' in 1941 (i.e., an ordinary seaman), a short story by someone trained for the 'upper deck' runs parallel to some of his own:

     My own navy days were relatively happy. I went in as an officer.

     I was one of the fortunate people who, after having graduated

     from Royal Roads after four months of hard concentrated training

     in everything having to do with the navy, was in terrific shape

     both mentally and physically to do battle...No soon had we finished

     our training than we were all aboard ships, and I sure as hell found

     out that there was indeed a war on. I joined a Banghor minesweeper,

     the Chetibuctou, which was an escort vessel engaged in accompanying

     vessels from Halifax up to Quebec City.

     [Jack McClelland of Toronto, pg. 283, Ibid]

Shortly after leaving Halifax for Quebec City, Mr. McClelland was introduced - explosively - to WW2. Though going in the opposite direction when he left Halifax, my father was introduced to the war in the same way.

More to follow. 

Photos by GH

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