Avocado 24, "Finally, Something's Up"

Like Watching Paint Dry

 "The leaves grow broader even in Canada's wintertime"

"Notice anything new?"

I water the avocado plant regularly and try to assess its health. The leaves look fine, but they're growing so gradually I'd have more fun watching paint dry. And the little leaves on the stem seem to be getting smaller, not bigger. So, nothing's happening until warmer weather, right?

Wrong. A couple of days ago I noticed life on Mars! At the very tip of the stem a new shoot is starting to emerge. Happy days are here again.

 "New sprout is sprouting - slowly, slowly... but it's something"

"Speaking of life on Mars. The old stem turned into an antenna!"

Link to Avocado 23

Photos GH

It Strikes Me Funny, "Watch Out For Ronalee Chapchuk Ambrose"

Be Careful Out There

 "This first driver leaned a bit to their left to make room for me"

During my fun and fitness walk this afternoon, I stuck to the side of the roads (due to heavy snow on sidewalks), and faced the traffic in Old South, Federal Liberal Kate Young's riding. Most drivers moved over a bit in order to make room for me. Most.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw a blue pickup with wide side mirrors coming toward me.

I thought, Buddy, give me a bit of space.

Nope, the driver did not budge an inch.

"The blue pickup didn't budge an inch. Thanks, Ronalee!"

 I only caught a quick glimpse, but at the time I thought the driver was Federal Conservative Ronalee Chapchuk Ambrose, smoking a corncob pipe.

The ability to steer even a bit to the left must elude her.

Link to more It Strikes Me Funny

Photos GH

Carry On Gang 13, "Finally, a Nice Bit of Snow"

Up to the Hem of Me Kilt, Eh!

I had to shovel a nice bit of snow before my walk today. More snow in a day than during the last 7 - 8 weeks of Official Winter (i.e., as of Dec. 21) if I recall correctly. Footing was decent on South London's streets when I stuck to the left hand edge, facing traffic, except when Federal Conservatives drove toward me.

(They can't steer even a bit to their left in order to make room for a pedestrian).

Enjoy your walks but be careful out there.

Link to Carry On Gang 11

Photos GH

Story re WW2, "Recalling a Wartime Christmas"

RECALLING A WARTIME CHRISTMAS

By Doug and Edith Harrison, RCNVR and Combined Operations 1941 - 1945

“The buzz was confirmed to us one day on the (HMCS Stadacona) parade square”

Photo credit - Halifax Citadel Defence Complex

Editor's introduction: The article below was first published in the Norwich Gazette in the 1990s and tells how and when the first draft of Canadians (already volunteers in RCNVR) volunteered once again - this second time for Combined Operations and hazardous duties overseas (or HO, 'Hostilities Only'). Both of my parents contributed to this rare piece:

Christmas, 1941

March the first, 1941, I left my employment at the Norwich Co-op and joined the navy as a probationary rating, at Hamilton, taking instructions each evening. I stayed at the home of my sister Gertie, and worked during the day at the James Street cotton mills until June, at which time I went on active strength and took ten weeks of training with many young men from the general area.

After a short leave at home we entrained for Halifax where we underwent similar navy training, but now we marched to a far more serious drummer. Any naval rating who ever went through the gunnery school will never forget the madhouse, and the heartless black-gaitered officers we endured.

Upon completion of our course we tried desperately to keep warm in the unheated barracks as rumours - some mess deck buzzes* - came to our ears of overseas duty. The buzz was confirmed to us one day on the parade square. Our commanding officer informed us that a request had been made by the Royal Navy for Canadian Navy volunteers for hazardous duty overseas. We were given a few days to arrive at our decision and report to our Petty Officer.

Almost to a man, those who had enlisted at Hamilton volunteered for the unknown. We had, over a period of six months, got to know each other very well, and were swayed greatly in our decision by the fact that it seemed an excellent way to stay together. So, come what may, we informed our Petty Officer, and we were given nine days leave.

I wrote my mother that I would be home for Christmas, and we all boarded what became known as the milk train because of its many stops between Halifax and Toronto. Each of us carried an attache case and our gas mask slung over our shoulder. It was like American Express: “Don’t leave home without it.” At Woodstock station someone from Norwich was picking up a passenger, and I came home with them, for three and a half days, which included Christmas.

Now I will let Edith tell of my arrival.

“How about a cup of tea?”

Before we knew that Doug would be getting leave, his mother and I purchased a wristwatch for his Christmas present. We then packed a box with the watch, socks and cigarettes, and a few other small items, and sent it off to Halifax. When he came home we asked if he had got his parcel, and he said yes, and the watch was lovely, but he had cracked the crystal and it was being repaired. After the war, Doug confessed that in the barracks in Halifax, he had taken off the watch before shaving, and gone out without it, and when he remembered it he went back but it was gone.

I remember the day he came home on short leave, though I can’t recall that we knew what day he would arrive. In the morning I had washed my hair and put in a few curlers at the top.

In those days most of us wore our hair long, to our shoulders, and with the side hair rolled up in a pompadour. I hadn’t got around to putting any make-up on, and I was just poking about waiting for my hair to dry, which took a long time for we didn’t have hand-held blow dryers then. My brothers were out and Mother was doing some Christmas baking at the kitchen table.

I walked into the dining room and looked out the door window and saw an odd-looking person coming down through the parking lot which used to be just in front of our house. I remember that I called out to Mother: “There’s a strange looking person coming down the road, come and see,” but before she could wipe the flour off her hands, I recognized Doug and called out; “It’s Doug Harrison!”

“How about a cup of tea?”: Photo of Doug and Edith, circa 1953

There he was, navy hat on one side, gas-mask over one shoulder, walking down through the snow. I ran out the door, wet hair, curlers and all, and down the snowy sidewalk with Mother calling after me, “Edith! Come and put your coat on!” but I kept right on going. I got to the end of the sidewalk and as we met I got a bump on the forehead and Doug got a bang on his nose. His nose used to bleed easily, and there he was, nose bleeding, trying to find a handkerchief, trying to hang on to his gas-mask, one arm around me, and then he said, laughing, “This is a great way to welcome me home!”

We managed to get into the house, where he sat down at one end of the table, and we found more handkerchiefs and mopped him up. Then, as I sat on his lap he asked, “How about a cup of tea?”

I made him the tea and then, after I had put on my make-up and combed my hair, we went up to Spring Street and spent the rest of the day with his mother.

I don’t remember Christmas Day that year; whenever I think of that Christmas time, I just recall that strange outfit, the recognition, the rush through the snow, and the words, “This is a great way to welcome me home!”

*the buzzes may have originated by a sailor or sailors who noticed bulletins pinned on boards outside classrooms. Another story about the Early Days of Combined Ops suggests as much.

Please link to Article re Combined Ops, "Canadian Seamen - A Motley Crew"

"Hot Chocolate Anyone?"

It's a Snow Shovellin' Day

After I finish my fun and fitness walk and snow shovellin' for the day - likely after supper the way the snow's comin' down - I'm going to put my feet up on the table out back and enjoy a big cup of cocoa.

"There's a bird feeder out back too and I think it needs fillin'"

Link to Carry On Gang 11, "Snow at Last"

Photos and Cocoa by GH

Article re Combined Ops, "Canadian Seamen - A Motley Crew"

Veteran Canadian Seamen Numbering 500 Took Part 

In Attack Against Sicily

"Many landing craft were manned by Canadians in Combined Ops during
Operation HUSKY, Sicily, July 1943" Photo - Imperial War Museum

No Casualties reported in two RCN Flotillas - Some

Dominion Sailors Helped Ferry In British Troops

By Louis V. Hunter, Canadian Press War Correspondent

Allied headquarters, North Africa, July 14 -- (CP Cable) -- It was estimated today that 500 Canadian naval men took part in the Sicilian landings as members of the Royal Canadian Navy, the Royal Navy and combined operations units. There were no casualties in the two R.C.N. flotillas which have returned to port, an R.C.N. spokesman announced today. Other flotillas have not yet returned.

Helped Land Troops

Some of the Canadian seamen ferried in British troops who were part of the first wave of the invading forces to move onto beaches in the southeastern corner of Sicily. The majority of the Canadian seamen were veterans of the Dieppe and North African landings last summer and autumn and were perfectly trained for their task. They came from all parts of Canada.

Canadians in Comb. Ops landed troops in SE Sicily

Map - Combined Operations by C. Marks, London

Besides the complete Royal Canadian Navy flotillas there were many Canadians serving in Royal Navy units. They were included in the 500 total. The first picture of the part these stalwart sons of the Dominion played was brought back from Sicily by Lt.-Cmdr. E. H. Bartlett*, R.C.N., of Toronto, press relations officer, who was ashore briefly in Sicily. The Canadian sailors were not perturbed when they were briefed for the landings a few days before the assault. Gathered informally on the decks of ships carrying them and their landing craft, they listened intently while officers outlined the operation, telling them where they were going and when the landing was scheduled.

Briefing officers used a map of Sicily set up on a board on deck to illustrate the plan of operations. There was not a murmur from the men when they learned what was coming. They continued to puff nonchalantly on their cigarettes and pipes. But when told that Canadian soldiers would be part of the invading force they “were simply delighted.”

The story of Petty Officer E. H. Randall, of Halifax, shows how well trained these Canadians were. Although his assault craft was not under fire a heavy sea was running when a line fouled the propellor, forcing him to drop behind. In the darkness he attempted to clear the stern but realized he would not be able to, so he decided to continue with one engine and skilful manoeuvering was in the exact position he was supposed to be at the proper time.

Carried Back Wounded

Some assault craft brought back the wounded to the ships offshore. A wounded British army officer sent for the coxswain of the craft that had carried him and thanked the crew. The coxswain was W.A.B. Tiner**, of Owen Sound, Ontario. Bartlett said the morale of the men was “tremendous.” Before the landing operations started, he went below decks to see what the men were doing and counted seven keen card games in one mess.

The Canadian seamen were dressed and ready to go ashore. They were a motley crew, in khaki or blue jerseys with blue flannels. Each wore the inevitable tin hat and carried emergency rations. They sipped cocoa, coffee, ate cheese, as they prepared for the landing. The traditional tot of navy rum was absent.

The first landing craft encountered some brisk opposition, but the troops wiped out machine-gun nests and the other opposition. The naval bombardment facilitated the later movements of troops ashore. The naval craft delivered the fighting men up the shore where the water was no more than ankle deep.

- As written in the July 23, 1943 issue of the Hamilton Spectator

*  *  *  *  *

*E. H. (Ernest Henry) Bartlett enrolled in the navy in England in the 1920s but influenza kept him from serving. Once in Canada he found work on a Great Lakes freighter before illness forced him to resign. He eventually found work as a journalist with the Toronto Telegram from 1924 to 1969, where he was the local expert on naval issues. He became the paper’s travel editor in 1962.

Ernest enlisted as a public relations officer and war correspondent with the Canadian navy in WWII. He filed news reports on the war effort in the Pacific and Atlantic.

On 14 August 1943, the motor torpedo boat that Bartlett was aboard was shelled in the Straits of Messina between Sicily and Calabria. He and his shipmates were captured and sent to a German POW camp in Marlag und Milag Nord. The camp was liberated 2 May 1946.

Ernest, Jack and Richard Bartlett. A family that made combined efforts.

Photo - Archives at York Univ.

*  *  *  *  *  *

**W. A. B. Tiner obituary (abbreviated) -

TINER, William - Leading Seaman RCNR - Staff Sergeant RCEME - March 18, 2010, William Avery Tiner of Markdale in his 93rd year. Bill is survived by his beloved wife of 66 years, Cecily (Sammy) Tiner (nee Warner) of Markdale and numerous nieces and nephews. Bill worked with his father in painting and decorating and then on the lake boats until he enlisted in the Grey & Simcoe Foresters June 10th 1940; transferred to the Royal Canadian Navy in Feb 1941. As Leading Seaman, Bill was helmsman for Landing Craft Infantry (LCI), and took part in three Combined Operations landings: Algiers, North Africa in Nov 1942; Cape Pachino, Sicily in July 1943; and landed the Chaudiere Regiment on Nan Sector of Juno Beach, Normandy at 8:22 a.m. in the second wave of landings on D-Day, 6 June 1944. While stationed in Britain, Bill met Sammy and they were to be married on June 3, 1944 but Sammy was left at the altar when Bill's leave was cancelled for the impending invasion and he was unable to leave the base or to communicate with her. On July 2nd they were married at St. Michael's and All Angels parish church in Thursley, England. Bill was discharge in Aug. of 1945, but re-enlisted in the RCE in 1950. Bill served in Korea, Egypt, and Germany before discharge in April 1968 - a total of 23 years plus of service.

For more information, go to Your Life Moments 

For another article, please link to "Canadian Soldiers Showed Up Everyone"

Carry On Gang 11, "Snow At Last"

Wind in the Face is No Disgrace

"The Carry On Gang likes lots of snow and wind"

For the next few days fresh Canadian snow and wind will be a feature of every walk outdoors. And I like it. All I have to do to survive is wear my red long johnnies under me tartan. And maybe I should sew a few more pennies into the hem of my kilt so when the wind blows, nothing shows.

Sidewalks will be slippery but The GREAT Canadian Comeback will go on, and when Spring comes I will likely be closer to svelte - a key word in this comeback if I ever saw one - than in the previous few years.

Photos of a blustery day in downtown London:

Carry on!

Link to Carry In Gang 9 "Long Walk a Beaut"

Photos GH

Carry On Gang 9, "Long Walk a Beaut"

Saturday and Sunday - Smooth Sailing

"The warm weather may be spoiling us"

Don noticed a couple of walkers ahead of us on Saturday and one was noticeably smoother, possibly healthier, than the other. He said, "You can tell which one will live longer than the other." And, in my opinion, the winner appeared obvious.

Women in Canada, on average, live longer than men, and the husband and wife team ahead of us looked like an average couple to us. So, to the guys I say, get out there and walk a couple of miles everyday and add a couple of years (or more) to your lifespan.

My solo long walk on Sunday was a warm one when the sun peeked out from behind clouds. I felt I'd over-dressed until a breeze pick up and carried me home. I finished 8 miles in about 2HR:40MIN (average speed, 3 miles per hour), in Greenway and Springbank Parks. I don't know if people would say my walking style is smooth, but I'm pretty steady. Svelte is what I'm going for... by 2017!

Photos from along the way with rambling commentary:

 "Is the couple up ahead 'average'? Husband seemed in poor shape"

 "I would rather see some snow in February. Too much green!"

 "Lots of people in Greenway Park are using the dog park"

"On the way home I noticed I'd forgotten my granola bars! Hungry Man!"

Link to Carry on Gang 7, "Good Days on Tap"

Photos GH

Carry On Gang 7, "Good Days On Tap"

"Back to Near Normal"

Looking north, enjoying the quiet, toward the noisy Oxford St. bridge

The GREAT Canadian Comeback continues as I walk mile after mile in a steady manner. I rested my feet on Monday and Tuesday because of blisters that developed during last Sunday's eight-miler. Had I taken Monday off I may have been back at it after only one day of rest and repair. However, two day's worth of strategic recuperation will do me no harm.

Colour co-ordination is very important as well

I look forward to two month's worth of 'Carry On Gang' walks 

Don mentioned the other day that he has lost weight because of all the miles we have covered during the last year. I cannot report the same result because I have not noted my weight since I retired from my demanding exercise routine (linked to marathoning) at the YMCA in 2006. That being said, as long as my feet stay healthy and I keep heading out the door to cover 25 - 35 miles per week, I will be able to report on several healthy results in the future.

Why, already I feel like a 1000 bucks! But, I know, a million would feel better.

Carry On Gang, I say.

Link to Carry On Gang 5

Photos by GH

Story re Combined Ops, "Revenge for HMHS Talamba"

Germany Sinks a Hospital Ship. Lone Skipper Strikes Back

HMHS Talamba: 10/07/1943 - Bombed & sunk off Syracuse during the landings
in Sicily. Attacked even though fully illuminated and showing red cross markings.
Photo Credit - TyneBuiltShips

Canadians who served in Combined Operations during WW2 write about the sinking of the Hospital Ship Talamba by German aircraft in July of '43. A brief passage found in With The Utmost Spirit by speaks of the Allies' revenge.

References to the loss of HMHS Talamba follow:

The comparative quiet was broken at nine o'clock in the morning (July 10). An enemy bomber came in very fast and dropped a stick of bombs  along a stretch of shoreline occupied by two British vessels and by the Canadian landing craft carrying the Senior Officer of the 80th Flotilla. The smaller British vessel, a tank landing craft, was squarely hit and blown to pieces. The other British ship was heavily damaged, and every man on her bridge was killed. The Canadian craft, well up on the beach with some of her shore nearby, had a miraculous escape. The force of the explosions knocked down the men on the beach, and the Flotilla officer was blown back into the well deck of his ship, but no one was injured. Considerably dazed, but marvelling at their luck, the men recovered and went to the assistance of the British merchantman, helping to take off her wounded and transfer them to a hospital ship.

Two hours later a series of heavier raids began. Throughout the night and for the next forty-eight hours the attempted blitz rose to a total of  twenty-three separate raids. costing the invasion forces five merchantmen (ships) and a hospital ship. The decline of the Luftwaffe's efforts was rapid, however. Air cover from Malta began to show its murderous effectiveness, and by the third day planes flying from captured Sicilian bases were adding their strength to the Allied umbrella.  [An excerpt from pages 83 - 84, Combined Operations by Londoner Clayton Marks]

We eventually found a cave where we slept safe from the Luftwaffe who in the first 48 hours launched 23 air raids on our sector, sinking five ships including the hospital ship (Talamba).... [From "Miss Canada", LCM 1022 by John Rimmer]

Saturday, July 10: Boat broke loose. Had one helluva time to stop from losing her. Lots of fireworks at zero hour. Battleships shelling the shore. Put the boats over the side and made our first trip in. See wrecks of gliders. Ships and a few dead bodies lying around. Had air raid at 1600 hours. Straddled us with a stick of bombs. One ship hit. Three planes shot down. We fired off our Lewis guns but they were too high for us.

July 11: Hospital ship bombed and sunk last night. Had quite a few raids after midnight. Dropped flares. Another air raid after midnight. Two ships hit. One forward of us. Don't mind the big fellows but the "Stuka dive bomber." Everything going fine. Another raid. Two Gerries shot down in flames. [From "Ed Corbett's Diary"]

July 11: Gerry and Italian planes over bombing but are kept high. Sank a hospital ship. RAF very few but hot when around. 11 raids since yesterday at 4 a.m. [From "Bill Lindsay's Diary"]

The Stukas were overhead like flies. It just went on and on for days. And as I said before, everybody knew where the bloody beach was and down it came.... We had a lot of wounded and the CO [commanding officer] said “get them out to the hospital ship.” So, I got these guys on the landing craft, an LCM, American, and out to the hospital ship I went. Well there was a cruiser and a monitor circling around the hospital ship acting as artillery for the shore. But the range [bore] of those guns is fifteen-inch on a monitor and I think the cruiser was six-inch. They could have gotten away from the hospital ship and still accomplished what they wanted. But anyway the Stukas was over trying to hit them and here is the poor hospital ship right in the middle. Well, I went out and went alongside the hospital ship and it was real hairy getting out there. The stuff was coming down and water coming in from the bottom and we started slinging the wounded aboard. And being coxn I was higher up than most people and I was level with the lowest deck of the hospital ship and I heard a very cultured voice say, “Would you like a cup of tea?” And I turned and here was a nursing sister. An older woman. Impeccably dressed you know. And I said – I would have preferred something stronger – but I said, “Yes, sister.” So she brought me a cup of tea. And I said, “Just the cup, not the saucer.” I was shaking too much. I drank the tea and I gave it back to her and she said, “It’s not much fun in there is it.” And I said, “No sister, it’s not,” and she reached out and she touched my cheek and she said, “God bless you.” And then just then one of the guys yelled, “Let’s get the hell out of here!” So broke off their Red Crosses and we broke out the Lewis [light machine] guns and turned around and headed back and had a “rattlin’” good time going back. You know how effective you are. When you firing back, you feel better.

Anyway, we got back to the beach and blew off about three, four thousand rounds of ammunition and then we went away. Well a couple of days later the hospital ship was sunk and we had came back and the word was out that six staff and four patients were lost with it, went down. The bodies started coming up nine days after, and this day I was on the beach and a landing craft was towing in a nursing sister. And one of the officers said, “Bowen, bring your knife,” because you know the skin swells. It gets all distorted. The skin had swollen up over either a watch or an ID bracelet and they wanted to get an ID. So this officer said, “Bring your knife Norm and we will cut down and see if we can get an ID.” And I said, “Sure,” and I went over and I knelt down and I just looked and she had gray hair. I just had to go away myself and you know this is stupid. It is fifty-five years ago and I still worry and wonder. [N. Bowen, from audio at The Memory Project]

A reference to 'the chance for revenge' follows:

During Operation Husky, one British skipper found himself with the unusual opportunity of being able to personally fire back at his attackers. A few days after the loss of the hospital ship Talamba, Sam Lombard-Hobson, Rockwood's commanding officer, wrote, "The chance for revenge came a few days later. Rockwood was on anti-submarine patrol."

Perhaps because of a thick smoke screen, each of the patrolling destroyers "was singled out several times for attack in the bright moonlight." Rockwood was almost hit twice but sustained no damage. "This cat and mouse game went on incessantly until well after midnight." Lombard-Hobson was in his sea cabin around 0400 when he heard the drone of engines. "I went up, and suddenly, out of the darkness, and at a height of no more than 100 feet, I saw the outline of an aircraft coming straight at us." The aircraft dropped a torpedo, Lombard-Hobson said, "But I had guessed the game and was under full wheel when the torpedo passed astern....

As the bomber passed over the ship, it gave me an opportunity I had been waiting for since May 1940, when from the beaches of Dunkirk I had recovered two abandoned Bren guns. Like pair of faithful Purdeys, I had had these two guns with me on the bridge of each ship in which i had served since that day." Rockwood's skipper never hesitated. "Before anyone else could open fire, I seized my ex-Dunkirk Brens and let fly; I couldn't miss! The bullets ripped into the underbelly of the Ju88 as it roared overhead, on its way to attack the merchant ships." Fatally stricken, the plane "burst into flames, and crashed into the sea less than a mile from the ship." [From page 210 of With Utmost Spirit by Barbara Brooks Tomblin]

Please link to Stories re Combined Ops, "One Man's Trek, 1941-45"

Context for Combined Ops,"HMS Belmont sunk, Jan. 1942"

Beware, to All That Dare Cross the Sea

As published on January 15, 1942

The month of January, 1942 can be considered ‘early days’ by the first small group of Canadian officers and ratings (RCNVR) who volunteered for ‘special duties’ overseas in the Combined Operations organization. The following information, from personal memoirs and The Halifax Herald, reports on what occurred during early days that surely affected many of the young sailors already far from home.

From the naval memoirs of D. Harrison, RCNVR and Combined Ops, age 21:

The first group of volunteers for special duty left Halifax January 30th, 1942, aboard the Dutch Liner Volendam. Actually a first try had aborted when the AMC (Armoured Merchant Cruiser), HMS Queen of Bermuda, ran aground a few miles out into the Atlantic. Our second try was in a small convoy consisting of the Dutch Volendam, the Largs Bay and two destroyers, HMS Belmont and HMS Firedrake, and we were designated Convoy NA-2. [A third trooper, the SS George Washington, unable to keep up well with the others, started with us but detached to a port in Newfoundland before action began.]

Early in February, 1942 we arrived in Greenock, Scotland having been safely shepherded there by the Firedrake after the Belmont was torpedoed late on the night of January 31st, with a total loss of life. The Largs Bay was a sister ship to the Jervis Bay, which went to certain destruction against the Scharnhorst on November 5th, 1940 in order to buy time so all but four of its convoy could get safely to England.

*  *  *  *  *

The headlines and an article that follow from the January issue of The Halifax Herald remind us of dangers all men faced who dared cross the Atlantic on their way to Europe.

Closest Approach Yet Made By Enemy

New York, Jan. 14 -- (AP)

The Third Naval District announced tonight the Panamanian tanker Norness was torpedoed by a submarine early today 60 miles south of Montauk Point, Long Island - the closest approach yet made to North American's east coast by enemy vessels in the second Great War. The brief navy announcement said naval craft had been sent to the rescue from New London, Conn., and Newport, R.I., and that a number of survivors was known to to have been picked up.

Menace Increasing

Earlier, the Navy had reported a tanker in distress off the eastern tip of Long Island, and simultaneously warned that the U-boat menace to Atlantic coast shipping was increasing. Merchant shipping had been warned of the increasing submarine hazard, said a navy spokesman, in order that steps might be taken to counter the peril.

At that time, the navy said one of their patrol planes had spotted the stricken ship, its lifeboats filled with the men of its crew, bobbing on the wintry waves around it. The patrol plane's alarm sent other aircraft and surface vessels from New London, Conn., speeding to the rescue and to hunt down and depth-bomb the submarine. While the location of the torpedoing was off Long Island, the navy spokesman said the range of hostile U-boat activities appeared to spread "pretty well up and down the east coast."

14 Survivors Landed

Fourteen survivors were landed by a naval craft tonight at the Newport, R.I. island torpedo station. No one was allowed to talk with them at the closely guarded plant. It was believed, however, none of those arriving here was seriously injured, for the station has not medical facilities to treat serious cases, which are taken to the naval hospital on the mainland.

The announcement did not identify the nationality of the submerged attacker, nor did it say whether the damaged tanker, en route from Panama City, Panama, had gone to the bottom. The position of the oil carrier, 60 miles south of Montauk Point, which is at the eastern tip of Long Island about 120 miles from New York City, would place it approximately 110 miles due east of New York Harbor.

*  *  *  *  *

What would the young Canadian members of RCNVR and Combined Operations, with only a few hours of training on a minesweeper under their belts, have thought of reports of the submarine menace or the cartoon below (from The Halifax Herald, January 14, 1942)? 

"Reporting from the East Coast of Canada... safe journey, Boys!"

For more information about Canadians in Combined Operations in WW2, visit my growing blog about the subject @ wavynavy.blogspot.ca

Please link to Context for Combined Ops, "Canadians Hit St. Nazaire"

Article re Combined Ops, "One Man's Trek, 1941-45"

THE RCNVR IN WW2: CANADIAN COMBINED OPS (CO)

By Doug Harrison, first published in the Norwich Gazette, circa 1992

Naval ratings off duty enjoying a bathe on the North African coast at Oran

or Mers-El-Kebir, Nov. 1942. Photo Credit - Imperial War Museum (IWM)

Not too much has been written about the Canadian Navy’s active part in WW2 on Assault Landing Craft. For about a thousand Canadian Navy boys, this meant volunteering a second time, which we probably wouldn’t have done if we had known what we were slated to do, once we got to Britain.

The first group of volunteers for special duty left Halifax January 30th, 1942, aboard the Dutch Liner Volendam. Actually a first try had aborted when the AMC (Armoured Merchant Cruiser), HMS Queen of Bermuda, ran aground a few miles out into the Atlantic. Our second try was in a small convoy consisting of the Dutch Volendam, the Largs Bay and two destroyers, HMS Belmont and HMS Firedrake, and we were designated Convoy NA-2. [A third trooper, the SS George Washington, unable to keep up well with the others, started with us but detached to a port in Newfoundland before action began.]

Early in February, 1942 we arrived in Greenock, Scotland having been safely shepherded there by the Firedrake after the Belmont was torpedoed late on the night of January 31st, with a total loss of life. The Largs Bay was a sister ship to the Jervis Bay, which went to certain destruction against the Scharnhorst on November 5th, 1940 in order to buy time so all but four of its convoy could get safely to England.

Upon arriving at HMCS Niobe, the Canadian barracks at Greenock, we were filled in on our Special Duty, and it was revealed to us that we were to serve on landing craft. We weren’t allowed to lay around Niobe for long. The strange new world of landing craft, tides, currents, cold wind, rain and darkness beckoned those of us who were raw recruits, still getting used to the grub, currency and customs of a new land. This early training was at HMS Northney, Havant, near Portsmouth in the south of England.

Then we were entrained from Southern England to Inveraray, Scotland where the heather looked lovely through the early morning mist and sun. We acquainted ourselves with further landing craft and their side effects: wetness, oil, hunger and tiredness. A strong bond was forged which still exists today among this CO group of Canadian officers and ratings while training night and day. At Irvine in Ayrshire we were treated royally by the townsfolk along Harbour Street where we tied up our landing craft, the ladies bestowing tea and cookies on us after training exercises off the Ayrshire coast (south of Irvine).

Officers cried orders in the pitch dark as we trained. “Keep closed up,” or “Out kedge,” (anchor) and just before hitting the beach, “Down door. Up door.” Seamen strained at the cranks on the windlass as the coxswains worked the helm and motors against unfamiliar tides and currents. We were green but learning fast. Little did we know that we didn’t have much time, nor did we know what lay ahead.

The seamen good-naturedly accused the stokers of being seamen with their brains bashed in, but those same stokers never let us down, and it was sure good to have someone you could count on. No one wanted to be left stranded on the beach, nor were they. This was an unwritten law. MLCs changed in name to LCMs (Landing Craft, Mechanized). ALCs changed to LCAs (Landing Craft, Assault) and were the first victims of our inexperience. The crewmen shouted and cursed amongst ourselves, each caring for his own craft. But we got along well together, existing some days on only Cadbury chocolate and hard tack washed down with “Compost “ tea.

For about fifty-five officers and ratings the moment of truth drew near when they would be put to the test, untried, but with a high esprit de corps and ready to live or die by Canadian Navy traditions, and die some did. Seventy-one men of CO, RCNVR took part in the Dieppe raid, 19 August, 1942. One officer died at 0347 hours, August 19th in the Channel, killed in a fiery exchange with a small German convoy. During the long, suffering day two Canadian seamen were killed and one severely wounded. He later died and was buried in Berlin in October 1942. The commanding officer of the flotilla and a wounded stoker were captured. The stoker was repatriated in an exchange of prisoners but the officer remained captive for the duration. At least two Canadian officers and the wounded stoker were awarded medals. A Canadian seaman and officers were mentioned in Dispatches for the Dieppe raid.

1989 Reunion of two shipmates at Dieppe

Stoker R.W. Brown (“severely wounded”, left) and Lt. McRae

(“remained captive”, back right), with D. Harrison (middle, with cap)

and Art Bailey (right). Photo - St. Nazaire to Singapore, Vol. 1 

The remainder regrouped with comrades in England and were joined by other officers and ratings from Canada. They set sail for North Africa in late October or early November, 1942. The Canadian men, with a sprinkling of Royal Navy personnel were lowered with their LCMs over the side of tankers at midnight, November 8, 1942 to ferry goods and supplies to the undefended shores of North Africa - and against resistance at Arzew, just south of Oran.

After about a week of this and the loss of one coxswain who was killed, the LCMs were left behind and the Canadians boarded three ships for the return to England. The Reina del Pacifico arrived safely but a slow old blister named the Clan MacTaggart and the P & O liner Ettrick were torpedoed off Gibraltar. One sailor died in the sinking of the Clan MacTaggart. Eight died when a torpedo scored a direct hit on the mess deck of the Ettrick. So these fine Canadian sailors were buried at sea.

In late spring of 1943 about two hundred officers and ratings of Combined Operations (CO) left Britain from various ports to man LCMs in the invasion of Sicily on July 10th. Some of these men suffered terribly from dysentery while camped in the desert waiting for slower ships to arrive with their boats and many were still in a weakened condition when they hit the beaches south of Syracuse near a town named Avola and in the Pachino-Marzamemi Beaches further south. These Canadian sailors, with no change of clothing, subsisted on what they could scrounge for themselves for over a month at Sicily. Some slept on the beaches and on landing craft and one group found safety from bombs in an abandoned limestone cave near the beach. Very damp and lizardly, it was a welcome haven at night.

The men under a new commanding officer did yeoman work, although working long hours, under fed and pestered severely by Stukas and JU88s. The stokers kept the landing craft running, if not on two engines, then on one (no down time) and the Canadian Flotillas were highly praised by the British Admiralty and General Montgomery himself. Their monkey mascot went bomb crazy and was buried at sea in a sandbag. It was a sad occasion when it was chucked overboard for our safety.

Late in the Sicilian campaign, because of poor conditions, some of these now-seasoned veterans came down with dysentery and were shipped off to Malta to recuperate. The favourite Navy cure for dysentery seemed to some to be a six or seven day starvation period; some of the boys certainly had nice looking rib cages while convalescing in Malta. All the flotillas soon appeared at Valetta, Malta with only a few days to make things shipshape for the Italian landing early in September. After a few weeks of ferrying supplies from near Messina to Reggio, they returned to Africa and again to England in October; some were well-laden with side arms picked up at AMGOT stores (Allied Military Government of Occupied Territory). This group returned to Canada, landing at Halifax on December 6, 1943 after two years of overseas service.

"This group returned to Canada, landing at Halifax" aboard Aquitania,

including Chuck Rose (Rosie), Don Westbrook (Westy), Al Kirby (laughing)

and Joe Watson (turning his collar): Photo - G. D. (Doug) Harrison

Some of this group joined new officers and ratings and took a very active part aboard the LSIs Prince Henry and Prince David on D-Day. In many war photos of that time, Canadian manned LSIs are shown in the forefront of their landings in both the D-Days in France and in the Adriatic and Aegean Seas. A few Canadian CO ratings accepted drafts back into General Service and served admirably there as well for the duration of hostilities. Other CO ratings and officers with recruits from Canada manned 30 LCI(L)s for Normandy D-Day and did ferry service for two months. They were carrying soldiers to the landing beaches and artificial harbour - or Mulberry(s) as they were called. They appear on a recent commemorative stamp of the Normandy Landing. The letters and digits stand out clearly showing LCI(L) 299 as our representative. (Even the glue on the stamps has a nice taste).

In all, twenty or more awards were made to the men of Canadian Combined Operations for outstanding devotion duty to Dieppe, North Africa, Sicily, Italy and D-Day Normandy.

Link to Article re Combined Ops, "We Chattered All the Way Home"

Unattributed Photos by GH

Carry On Gang 5, "Uphill Some of the Way"

Feels Like Spring

Is Spring around the corner? I hope not. I'd like cold weather for at least 6 more weeks. It kills the bugs. (Doesn't help with blisters!)

Good walk yesterday, though the blister that developed on Sunday - during an eight-miler on a wet day - grew worse by the time I reached home.

By the numbers -

I walked 30 out of 31 days in January

30/31 = 96.8%

I covered about 30 miles per week.

Not bad, I say.

More photos from along the way on Sunday:

Link to Carry On Gang 4, "Wet and Woolly"

Photos GH

Video re Combined Ops, "Raid on Dieppe, 1942"

Presented by News of the Day

A German photograph of the aftermath of the Dieppe raid.

Photo credit - Royal Canadian Air Force, DND Archive

The website entitled Critical Past has a deep catalogue of videos (thousands) and still images (millions), and many concern World War 2 events and battle fronts in which Canadians in Combined Operations were whole-heartedly involved. Though a price tag is attached to high-resolution videos and stock images, the public will find free access to the same material, though in low-resolution and with the website's title displayed in the centre.

Link to the accompanying Video - Allied aircraft and amphibious assault troops in action during the battle of Dieppe in France during World War II.

Synopsis, in part:

Raid on Dieppe from Allied point-of-view, so it is limited and dwells chiefly on positive results. A Royal Navy warship bombards the coast of Dieppe at night... Allied airmen get into an aircraft... American, British and Canadian troops in landing crafts underway toward Dieppe... German aircraft drop bombs and explosions occur at sea... Landing crafts at sea. LCTs (Landing Crafts Tanks) go ashore... Wounded Allied soldiers disembark from a ship in England...

More coverage and reading required for a well-balanced view of Dieppe's outcome.

Location: Dieppe France
Date: 1942
Duration: 5 min 40 sec
Sound: Yes

Landing craft taking part in Operation Jubilee, the raid on Dieppe

Photo credit - Canada at War

Link to Video re Combined Ops, "U.S. Troops in N. Africa"

Carry On Gang 4, "Wet and Woolly"

Busy Pathways on Sunday

"Nice woollen kilt is all one needs on a mild winter's day"

On Saturday, Don and I passed through Harris Park, at first heading north towards Blackfriars Bridge. We met a dog named 'Fox' and noticed the river was running high. After we crossed the bridge we headed south for home, knowing full well we had halfway to go and still half of the world's problems left to solve. That being said, it is amazing how many good solutions we came up with by the time we reached our front porches in Wortley Village. All was well with the world.

"Carry On Walk #4 was a long one"

On Sunday I tackled an eight-miler on my own and reached my turnabout spot near Springbank dam before the rain came down. Fortunately, I was dressed for wet weather and made it home - in under three hours - without having to swim. Front crawl is not my strong suit. Neither is colour-co-ordination but I still hold it in high regard.

By the numbers for the day:

8 miles in under three hours

estimated speed - 3.16 miles per hour (19 minutes per mile)

one blister for the first time (related to my choice of socks, I bet)

Photos from along the way:

 "This fellow has a smooth shuffle. One day that could be me"

 "Lots of folks outside today"

"My turnabout point, just short of Springbank dam"

Link to Carry On Gang 2

Photos GH

Short Story re Combined Ops, "N. Africa and Reina Del Pacifico"

Below is but one of the many WW2 stories, facts and details I am sharing at my new blog entitled '1000 Men 1000 Stories: Canadians in Combined Operations, WW2' at wavynavy.blogspot.ca. Stop by anytime.

Operation TORCH and Life Aboard Reina Del Pacifico

By Doug Harrison, RCNVR and Combined Operations

Operation TORCH: American troops land at Arzeu, near Oran, Nov., 1942

Photo credit - Imperial War Museum (IWM)

Reina Del Pacifico Served Well in War Years

[This newspaper column was first published in The Norwich Gazette, circa 1992]

This is the story of a large passenger liner converted to a troop ship called the Reina Del Pacifico which carried 200 Canadian sailors and other personnel back to Liverpool, England after the invasion of North Africa, which started November 8th, 1942.

Buryl McIntyre and I were among the 200 sailors who had worked on our landing craft ferrying troops and army supplies ashore night and day for about a week at a little town south of Oran named Arzew.

During the invasion the Reina Del had acted as a hospital ship which we Canadian sailors could go aboard when tired. We were given excellent food, excellent rum, help to tumble into a hammock where we remained horizontal for many hours. The Reina Del served as a passenger liner again for many years after the war but unfortunately burned about 1970.

Approximately Nov. 14th, 1942 the dark green, two funnel Reina Del lay at anchor at Arzew, and those two funnels were active enough to indicate steam was being brewed in the engine rooms, and she was as anxious as the sailors to head for home. Our landing craft one by one manoeuvred to the gang-plank on the port side of the Reina Del and Canadian sailors waiting for the proper swell of the wave jumped to gang-plank and hurried up the steps and went aboard through the large cargo door. Each one was checked off by name by a Canadian officer standing inside the cargo door, complete with clipboard. The landing craft were now manned by English sailors returning at a later date.

Reina Del Pacifico - Link to Photo Credit

As my turn came to jump aboard the gang-plank, my eye spotted a large unexploded shell imbedded in the side of the ship not far from the officer’s head. I was very tired but not that tired, and inquired of the officer about the unexploded shell and he replied that the Captain had the shell examined and it was a dud. “I sure hope he is right because my mother will miss me, Mr. Wedd,” I said.

Mr. Wedd was dog-tired too and in no mood for an argument. “Your mother will miss you a lot more if you’re not aboard on the next swell, Harrison, because we are leaving. Do you hear me?” He added a bit more which wouldn’t be printed and his ultimatum enabled me to time the swell of the next wave perfectly and I jumped to the gang-planks, and though tired, I found new energy at the cargo door and was soon amidships. The shell never exploded but it was sand-bagged and roped off.

It wasn’t long before the clank of the anchor cable could be heard in the hawse pipe. The anchors stowed, the gang-plank came on board and we were underway and in a few hours steaming at 27 knots (about 33 mph) we were safely inside the submarine nets at Gibraltar. In those few hours we organized bridge and crib tournaments.

The scene at Gibraltar was one of carnage, war at its worst. Nearby were destroyers which had been mauled by bomb and torpedoes, with gaping holes in their sides and deck plating, and some of the large guns were bent and pointed at bizarre angles. Miraculously they floated with pride and here and there steam came from the odd funnel. We thought of what the crews had been through and the fire and heat that had buckled the plates, how anyone could have survived. But Malta had to be fed.

Aboard the Reina Del at Gibraltar the Captain advised us to sleep up top under cover at night and those Canadian sailors who were not taking part in the tournaments became look-outs as we sailed west into the Atlantic alone. Naval tradition prevailed aboard the ship and at 11 o’clock each morning we were given a tot of navy rum which we didn’t have to drink under the watchful eye of some Chief Petty Officer. Buryl McIntyre and I were partners at bridge; we received good cards and placed second in the tournament; there being no main prize it was agreed that whichever team won the rubber of bridge also won their opponents’ tot of rum. Buryl and I slept quite well most nights, but with one eye open and one arm through our Mae West life jackets. Each ship has its own peculiar quirks and sounds; it is the unusual sound that brings sailors awake.

The Captain wished to miss the Bay of Biscay and as we skirted the western edge heading north we ran into a severe electrical storm. Standing well inboard under cover we witnessed the worst electrical display of our lives. Also, it seemed to rain so hard it pounded the sea flat. The ship retained good speed throughout and reached Liverpool safely in about four days.

Liverpool, such a friendly city, has welcomed sailors for centuries and we went ashore soon after our arrival to a seaman’s home, a large, warm, clean barrack-like building with good food, showers, and cots with white sheets and pillow cases. Heaven! Soon mail arrived and I can still see myself and my friends discarding our boots and stretching out on the cots to read the latest from home. Everything went quiet until someone shouted, “Hey guys, get a load of this!”

“Pipe down!” The old familiar phrase. “Read it to us later!”

We shared our parcels with anyone who may have missed out and showed new photos all around. Although we had shore leave, many chose to stay where we were, get some rest, and write some letters home. We did not see the Reina Del Pacifico again. One evening she slipped quietly away, but I for one have never forgotten her, our home for a few short days.

*   *   *   *   * 

The following story, from Doug Harrison's Navy memoirs, again mentions activity related to Operation TORCH and times aboard the Reina Del Pacifico.

What a Sight to Behold

My group went through much more training at H.M.S. Quebec and then we entrained for Liverpool. Prominent pub was The Crown in Wallasey. We left Greenock in October, 1942 with our LCMs aboard a ship called Derwentdale, sister ship to Ennerdale. She was an oil tanker and the food was short and the mess decks where we ate were full of eighteen inch oil pipes. The 80th and 81st flotillas, as we are now called, were split between the Derwentdale and Ennerdale in convoy, and little did we know we were bound for North Africa.

I became an A/B Seaman (Able-bodied) on this trip and passed my exams classed very good. The food aboard was porridge and kippers for break-fast, portioned out with a scale. We would plead for just one more kipper from the English Chief Petty Officer, and when he gave it to us we chucked it all over the side because the kippers were unfit to eat.

We had American soldiers aboard and an Italian in our mess who had been a cook before the war. He drew our daily rations and prepared the meal (dinner) and had it cooked in the ship’s galley. He had the ability to make a little food go a long way and saved us from starvation. Supper I can’t remember, but I know the bread was moldy and if the ship’s crew hadn’t handed us out bread we would have been worse off. We used to semaphore with flags to the Ennerdale to see how they were eating; they were eating steak. One of the crew cheered us up and said, “Never mind, boys. There will be more food going back. There won’t be as many of us left after the invasion.” Cheerful fellow. However, we returned aboard another ship to England, the Reina Del Pacifico, a passenger liner, and we nicknamed the Derwentdale the H.M.S. Starvation.

In the convoy close to us was a converted merchant ship which was now an air craft carrier. They had a relatively short deck for taking off, and one day when they were practicing taking off and landing a Swordfish aircraft failed to get up enough speed and rolled off the stern and, along with the pilot, disappeared immediately. No effort was made to search, we just kept on.

One November morning the huge convoy, perhaps 500 ships, entered the Mediterranean Sea through the Strait of Gibraltar. It was a nice sun-shiny day... what a sight to behold.

Troops climb into landing craft, manned by Canadians, from Reina Del 

Pacifico during landings in North Africa, Nov. 1942. Photo credit - IWM 

On November 11, 1942 the Derwentdale dropped anchor off Arzew in North Africa and different ships were distributed at different intervals along the vast coast. My LCM had the leading officer aboard, another seaman besides me, along with a stoker and Coxswain. At around midnight over the sides went the LCMs, ours with a bulldozer and heavy mesh wire, and about 500 feet from shore we ran aground. When morning came we were still there, as big as life and all alone, while everyone else was working like bees.

There was little or no resistance, only snipers, and I kept behind the bulldozer blade when they opened up at us. We were towed off eventually and landed in another spot, and once the bulldozer was unloaded the shuttle service began. For ‘ship to shore’ service we were loaded with five gallon jerry cans of gasoline. I worked 92 hours straight and I ate nothing except for some grapefruit juice I stole. 

Doug Harrison (centre) watches as troops and ammunition come ashore on LCAs at

Arzeu in Algeria during Operation 'Torch', November 1942. Photo credit - IWM 

Our Coxswain was L/S Jack Dean of Toronto and our officer was Lt. McDonald RNR. After the 92 hours my officer said, “Well done. An excellent job, Harrison. Go to Reina Del Pacifico and rest.” But first the Americans brought in a half track (they found out snipers were in a train station) and shelled the building to the ground level. No more snipers. I then had to climb hand over hand up a large hawser (braided rope) to reach the hand rail of Reina Del Pacifico and here my weakness showed itself.

I got to the hand rail completely exhausted and couldn’t let one hand go to grab the rail or I would have fallen forty feet into an LCM bobbing below. I managed to nod my head at a cook in a Petty Officer’s uniform and he hauled me in. My throat was so dry I only managed to say, “Thanks, you saved my life.”

The Reina was a ship purposely for fellows like me who were tired out, and I was fed everything good, given a big tot of rum and placed in a hammock. I slept the clock around twice - 24 hours - then went back to work. In seven days I went back aboard the Reina Del and headed for Gibraltar to regroup for the trip back to England. During the trip I noticed the ship carried an unexploded three inch shell in her side all the way back to England.

Just outside Gibraltar, Ettrick was torpedoed in her side and sank, and one rating from Ingersoll, Ontario was among those killed. She took four hours to sink and many were saved. We arrived in England without trouble. Our ship was fast, could do about 22 knots per hour, a knot being one mile and a fifth per hour. (I am going to leave my memories about hilarious occasions during leaves I enjoyed until last.)

Please link to Short Story re "North Africa, S. S. Clan MacTaggart"