"Charles Edward Dyon" - my Father by Keith Dyon

Charles Edward Dyon, commonly known as 'Charlie' was my father.  He was of the same name as his father but the latter was known as Ed Dyon.  Dad was born in Mountain Grove in Frontenac County in Ontario.  He had two sisters, the eldest being Frances (Frankie) and then Mary. (There was also a younger sister, Annie, who died when she was a baby).  My grandfather Ed, was a section foreman in his part of of Ontario but decided to go out west and try farming.  So the family migrated to Whitewater, Manitoba - a little place between Boisevain and Deloraine.  He got a quarter section at the at location but after a year or so was unable to acquire any more land so he proceeded to get a homestead and that was up near Antler, Saskatchewan - about 80 miles north-west.  For a year or two he would farm this quarter by driving back and forth by horses.  About 1900 the family moved to Antler where they built a house in the village as Ed's land was bordering on the village.  By this time, my dad would be about 8 or 10 years of age.  Charlie, my dad, took his schooling in Antler and he proceeded to be quite a ball player as well as hockey but tended to enjoy ball more-so.  He gained prominence as a pitcher.  Gramma Dyon undertook to run a boarding and rooming house which I think turned out to be more of a refuge for waifs.  Dad grew into manhood and about 1913 went to Winnipeg where he trained in the Erzinger shop as a barber.  Upon completion of his training he went across the street in the city and was taking on as one of the barbers in the Grain Exchange building not far from Portage & Main.  He barbered there for awhile and then decided to go home and open his own shop right alongside their home on main street and in 1914 he started barbering in Antler and he was considered a darn good barber.

He had been going out a bit with Kathleen McVeigh whose people had a bake shop and confectionery store across the street and, in 1915 they got married in Winnipeg by a minister who later became a novelist.  Anyway, they married and came back to Antler and bought a house on the south side of the barber shop.  In 1917, I was born - Keith Edward Dyon - at least that was what the name was SUPPOSED to be and it is the name I have always gone by.  However, somebody made a mistake and "Kenneth" was put onto the registration.  So, later on when I joined the Air Force, I had to sign everything as kenneth for that period of time.  
Two years after I was born, my brother Carman Cecil Dyon was born and then, a couple of years after that we were blessed with a sister, Mona Gwendolyn Dyon.  By this time Dad had gotten a quarter of land right alongside Grampa Dyon's homestead and tus started farming as well as running the barbershop and pool hall.  My Dad did not have the first car in Antler but very close to it so he drove a Ford at a very early age.  Different ones used to get him to drive them somewhere or other and I'll mention one of such episodes.
About that time was when the rum runners used to be on the go and one of their trails was up this way.  Some say they were connected with the Bronfman family who became money barons and are still in the financial circles in the east.  Anyway one of their trips this way their car broke down and they had big cars.  While the Mounties were still getting about on horses or Fords when they could get over the trails.  There were only prairie trails winding around the sloughs.  The garage man sent these guys up to my Dad as he had a fairly new Ford and they persuaded him to drive them to Maryfield where they could catch a train and eventually get to Yorkton.  He took them on the winding trip and when they got to Maryfield they paid him something and said "I thought we had pretty good drivers but YOU take the cake".  He didn't very often drive anyone like that as I think by this time there was a livery service in Antler.  Grampa got quite a bit of land around Antler and they continued farming until the dirty thirties struck.  It was 1929 when the crash came and that same year our mother, who had not been very well for sometime, died.  Two years later my granparents both died.  So Dad and Aunt Frankie wereleft with quite a bit of land and as times were hard, they went on to sell most of it for a song.  Mary (Dad's sister), Mrs. Leverton had died earlier and so she was not in on the crash.  Dad kept hold of the homestead and his own quarter and somehow managed to carry on with this bit of farming and barbering.  He barbered until 1945 when I came home from overseas and took over.  Dad carried on farming until about 1978 when he rented to a neighbor, Dave Poirier.  About 1982 he turned the two quarters over to Carm and myself.  Poirier continued farming it until Dad passed away in 1985 at the age of ninety-two.  He would have been ninety-three on Christmas Day.  Shortly after, we sold the farm to Poirier's.

Charlie Dyon

Dad had quite a time trying to raise us kids with all the hard times  and all.  We didn't have such a good life of it but managed to live through the bad times. 
Farming was the bunk and barbering wasn't so hot either in those days. 
Everybody was cutting one another's hair or at least there was a lot of that going on.
Dad was quite bright right up to the end.  He was even driving his old truck and car around the month before he died.  He was a healthy, strong man -  only sick once or twice for a few days.  He was "old Charlie" to everybody up to the last.  He was in the hospital and watched some of the ball game on TV prior to his passing on that evening.  I was with him to the end.  He died without any fuss.

"The Graveyard" by Keith Dyon

The Antler Cemetery is pretty well marked.  There are however a few graves that have no stones or markers of any kind but, I think, they are possibly on a map somewhere.  There are some graves over on the west side and of them, there are several that have no indication of who they might be.  In the far corner is a grave of Mr. Abe Ramsey.  Why he was buried over there is unknown unless it was because the village buried him.  Howe'ver, he does have a monument.  Mr. Ramsey was one of the pioneer settlers in this farming district, which later became Ben Borreson's farm.  It is now in the hands of some of the Poirier family.  Mr. Ramsey's wife was sent to Ontario for burial (I believe) which was long before he passed away.  In the same corner is a stone for a Mr. Silk and there is no mention of his wife either.  Why he was over there, I don't know.  The Silk's farmed south of Antler.  The farm was later worked by a man named Bob Ewing who was a son-in-law of the Silks.  The land now also belongs to the Poirier family.
Next, we come to a grave for a man named Harry Mortimer who was buried years and years ago.  Mortimer had a butcher shop in the village way back about 1900.  He had a horse and buggy and used to go out to buy a beast from some local farmer.  However, he was subject to epileptic seizures and my dad, who was a young boy at the time, told me that Mortimer would have him go with him in the event he might take on of these fits while driving.  Then, in the sam erow is a grave for a Mr. Chris Leist who lived in the village.  Two of his daughters lived in the area - Emma (Mrs. Tom Kennedy) and Augusta (Mrs. Walter Dittmer).  One nice mild day in March, about 1920, Chris hooked up his horse to a stoneboat and struck off for Kennedy's - about 3 miles south.  There were no roads at that time of course and a snow storm suddenly came up out of nowhere.  Leist got lost in the blizzard and they found him the next day frozen . 
Also buried along there was an Englishman who worked for George Church.  Church lived north along a creek and this guy apparently went swimming alone one day (something he'd done many times before) and he drowned.  He had no relatives and was a newcomer so there were no friends either.  I remember we had hired a girl, Lucy Rondache, to help my mother who was not well at the time and the day of this guy's funeral, Lucy made it a point to go as she figured there would be few to mourn this poor stranger.
Another such grave along that same side of the graveyard was a chap who worked on the section gang and when they were out on the track one day, the noon train was just coming and the fellow ran and lay his head over the track.  Needless to say, that finished him!  I think his name was Mike.  Further down the line were the Whitmores, Rueben and his wife.  It is alleged that she poisoned him and then took her own life.  One of the earlier and more humerous cases of Dr. Mather, who had just returned to Antler  was attached to this tragedy.  The night of the deaths, it was required that someone stay at the house so my Uncle George Leverton and Adam McCallum agreed to house-sit.  Now, Adam was a little Irish man, very nervous and high strung who had recently come to this country.  In the middle of the night, every noise he would hear he would say "What's That?!" and Uncle George would say, "Oh, that's just the devil playing around" - this explanation not being much comfort to Adam but, they both saw the night through.


Another character buried in this row was a guy called Alec Stacey who had been first man on the station crew for years but had retired.  His so-called friends had bled him dry of money and he died a pauper.  At this time Antler was a lively place with three bootleggers going strong.  They helped to impoverish old Alec.  At the same time our minister was a Mr. Down who was doing his utmost to run the booze sellers out of town.  When Alec died they asked Mr. Down to have a short service in my grandparents old house, which was vacant, and he agreed.  Lo and behold, the pall-bearers were none other than the bootleggers and the ones who'd done him wrong.  It was comical when one thought about it.  It was like a mafia job.


There were others buried, among them being several babies, in this row  of which there are no records that were kept.

"The Big Fire" by Keith Dyon

The Village of Antler has had its share of fires over the years but the one that was a major disaster was the night the big livery barn on main street burned down, along with an implement business and a grocery store.  The butcher shop was also badly damaged but was saved and repaired.  This fire occured the first part of May in 1940 on a Saturday night.  I was working at Ed George's John Deere  and Red & White Store.  It was about 12:30 at night and I had not long been home and in bed when I noted a reflection on the wall.  We lived just across and up the street from the barn.  I got up and looked out and there was the big red barn on fire!  I roused my Dad and brother Carm and by this time a few others had noticed as well.  There was nothing anyone could do about the barn and, unfortunately there was a team of dray horses inside and it wasn't possible to get them out.  Len Hawkins, who owned the barn and team, felt terrible but there was nought that could be done to save them.  There was quite a crowd gathered and efforts were concentrated on saving the butcher shop, the roof of which was on fire by this time.  A bucket brigade started a relay carrying water across the street and up ladders throwing the water on the roof and by this means the shop was saved to the extent that they were later able to repair it.  The barn burned fiercely and next to it was Copet's machine and oil business which caught fire as well.  It provided quite a sight as the oil drums kept blowing up.  Then soon, Hewitt's grocery store next to Copet's caught fire too.  Hewitts lived up above the store and luckily they got out but were not able to save much of anything.  McVeigh's big General Store, a few feet from Hewitt's, was kept from igniting by pouring water down the side of that building which happened to be sided with tin , which helped to deter the flames.  Fire fighting went on most of that night and the people that owned the Chinese cafe across the street kept his place open giving the fire fighters coffee and sandwiches all night long.  At daylight there was nothing left of those three buildings except the long chimney of the Hewitt store.  I remember Ed Kennedy was working at Stuckey's that spring and he walked the back lane to Stuckey's  when he noticed this chimney standing and thought that wasn't there before...then it dawned on him that the buildings were gone.  He had slept through the night!  The minister, Mr. Harry, took off for Sinclair where he preached first thing on Sunday morning and when he got there they asked him about the fire in Antler.  He too had slept throughout the night and even though he drove past town he'd noticed nothing.  At the start of the fire, old Norm (White) was one of the first to notice the flames.  He was on his way up to Earlies where he was roosting and he started to holler 'fire' and they heard him clean out to Borreson's - a mile and a half south-east of town!  It was a blow to Antler.  Hewitt's store was  never rebuilt and the family moved to the west coast.  The livery barn, of course, was gone forever.  Copet did bring in a shed from his farm and reopened his business.  It was a night to remember and it surely was a blow to out little town.  Most feelings though went for the poor team of horses burned as everyone in town were friends of those horses.  They figured the fire was started by indiscriminate playing by boys with firecrackers.  It was a great community effort that night to contain the fire as well as they did and to save what they could.  Kids and grown-ups emptied available cisterns just by passing pails of water hand to hand across the street.  A couple of farmers came in with water tanks by team from the country.  We have had other fires tut this one was the most spectacular.  I recall one humorous incident - as the pails of water were handed up the ladders, the guys on the roof would drop the empty pails and it would be relayed back to the others.  Dan Morrison was just in the act of picking up one such pail when one dropped and landed on his head.  The air was blue for a spell.  Dr. Mather was one of the more energetic firemen and I remember he ruined a brand new suit.

"Saturday Night" by Keith Dyon

Keith & Carm in the early 20's

In the 20's, 30's and before that, Antler was a real boom town and Saturday nights are when everybody came to town - some by horse and buggy, some by horseback, bicycle, and even cars.  The streets would be full of all sorts of vehicles and people.  To us kids it was all very exciting and there were 2 pool rooms, one of which was run by my dad, Charlie.  The other was run by a man named Fred Johnson.  They were always both full until the wee hours of Sunday morning.  Both old Fred and my dad cut hair and they also kept busy on Saturday nights until 1 or 2 o'clock, standing in hair up to their knees.
  In those days, a lot of the guys got a shave as well as a haircut and the barbers were masters with the old straight razor.  First, the barber would pull a long hair out of your head and let it hang free and then see if the razor would cut it!  If so, she was good and sharp and he could dig right in.  There was no electricity for a long time so it had to be the old hand clippers and scissors.  The pool tables were never vacant either and there was usually a bunch standing out front gossiping.  We kids were going from one end of the town to the other to see what we could see and hear.  Earlier, during the 20's they used to have dances on Saturday nights above Hunter's store and there was a great string of steps going up to the dance hall on the south side of the building.  Occasionally a fight would get going at the top of the stairs and once in awhile some guy would come rolling down the steps.  I guess they were bruised frequently but nobody was ever killed.  Whilst these events took place, the band played on!  In the 30's Antler became famous for its bootleggers.  These places drew more people from further away and certainly increased night life activity.  One establishment became a real Las Vegas type casino where drinking and poker went on just like a big time operation.    Another Saturday night feature in Antler in tose days were the Gospel Singers. They were a group of devoted souls from north of Antler known as the 'Gillette Bunch', because Mr. & Mrs. Gillette
were the promoters.  Anyway, pretty near every Saturday night they would gather under a street light and one of them played a guitar while they all sang old Hymns.  They were good too!  So, you had your choice - you could see a fight and you could sing along with hymns.  I might add here that all the stores would stay open until the 'last dog was hung'.  Some were still open long after business had finished as very often some poor woman was waiting for her husband to come and get her and he was probably playing pool or often at one of the bootleggers so, the storekeeper had to be a baby sitter as well.

Antler in the 20s

"Carman Dyon - My brother" by Keith Dyon

Carman Cecil Dyon, my brother, was quite a character all of his life. When he was a kid, everybody liked him.  He could get away with stuff that no one else could.He had always been a kind-hearted person and was always ready to help someone in his own way - doing things for others that anyone else wouldn't even think of.  I have seen him when he was a kid, fix somebody's flat tire on the street without the knowledge of the owner.  He just saw the flat tire and went about changing it for them.  He had two fascinations - old cars and watches.  He has given several of his old watches to relatives and friends after he has had them restored.  When he was a kid, he was always fooling around with some old crate of a car and he had the uncanny knack of making it go though no one else could manage and, with his improvisations only he could manipulate the machine.  Sometimes he would have a honey pail hanging from something for a gas tank; sometimes with no seat, he would be sitting on the gas tank.  Sometimes no tire on one or more of the wheels but he would still drive her around.  In those days there were only big bicycles - men's bikes - and Carm was only the size of a grasshopper - maybe 6 or 7 years old but he would get between the frame and the pedals and away he would go with the bike at about a 45 degree angle.  One time, my Dad was away to Winnipeg where my mother was very sick - in fact she died at that time - anyway, Dad had a brand new Chev and he had left the keys with old Grampa Dyon.  Carm was only 9  years old but he went and asked Grampa for the keys which he gave him.  So, off he goes, takes the car out of the garage and proceeds to go for a spin down the Queen's highway.  Joe Gauthier was coming from church or somewhere and they said they passed a car on the highway with no one driving!  He was so small they couldn't see a driver.  Anyway, he went for a spin and came back , put the car in the garage - however, he thought he had it in a little crooked and that Dad might notice so he though he should back out and straighten her up.  He went to back out but forgot to shut the door.  It flew open and caught the 2 x 4's  on the side of the garage and, of course, sprung the door.  He got excited and threw her into low and in his excitement hit the end of the garage knocking out a few boards.  The evening Dad came home on the train, Carm was no where to be seen.  We finally found him hiding in Mitchell's outhouse.  He was scared but under the circumstances, the car was not very important and he got away with that escapade.  Later years he was still performing with old cars - sometimes on a Sunday night he would get a bunch of us in the old crate and he would take us up and down the two cement sidewalks that were up either side of main street.  In some places there was just enough room to get between trees and buildings but he would make it.  Other times he would get her loaded down with a bunch of us girls and boys and would drive up and down the street and every once in awhile he would cramp the front wheels and this would throw the old crate up on her side and then she would fall back just like a circus ride.  Only Carm could do things like that.  Another time, Carm went into someone's farmyard and he had a young lady with him - a school teacher - and in the yard was a big pile of gravel.  He drove right up the pile and then no further.  The farmer said that the young lady 'wet her seat'.  She boarded at the house and had to go in and change her clothes.  Another incident was when he was working for Foster McDougall at Reston.  He had an old crate of a car and when he was through for the summer season, Foster said that he had better figure up what he owed him.  Carm told him he'd better just keep the old car and they'd be even.  You see, McDougall ran a bulk service station and Carm had been using his gas.  Goster had told me about that several times and he laughed every time.  
Then there was the time at the first of the war with myself, Carm, and Ken Hawkins.  We were called into Regina for 30 days of training.  At the end of those 30 days we were discharged and were able to go home, each with passes to take the train.  However, Carm had bought an old Ford and was going to drive it home and wanted Ken and I to go with him.  We refused!!!  Hell!  There was no heater in the machine, one of the windows was broken - and it was COLD!  Anyway - we took the train and he struck off with the car.  He had a full tank of gas when he left but nearly ran out when he got to Wauchope and had only 30 cents in his pocket so, he bought that much gas and headed the rest of the way home.  It took him to about 4 miles out of Antler and the car ran out of gas so he had to leave it and walk the rest of the way.  We were so glad that we took the train!  
Carm and the Army didn't get along too well.  Either he was always in trouble - his rifle was dirty or his cap was on screwgee, or his boots or buttons were not polished enough - he always had something wrong, for which he had to do fatigue duties a lot of the time.  I felt sorry for him there but it was just NOT his thing at all.  He was back in the army after that up at Red Deer and a few other places but he did not last.  I think they let him go finally - probably more of a problem for them if they kept him!  
After the war years he was around home where he worked for Ed George and a few others.  He tried farming a little but again, it wasn't his thing so he went to Regina where he started working for Moore's Taxi.  He eventually wound up at Hertz U Drive and then on to Budget Rent-a-Car.  He never married and he had a great affinity for beer.  
This reminds me of another episode of Carm and a car.  One time some natives were going through here with an old Model T and she broke down.  (Carm always seemed to be about when a car broke down.)  Anyway these guys asked him to drive them to Pipestone and for payment they told him he could have the old car.  Well - that was right up his alley so he took them to Pipestone and the old car was in our back yard.  That night, Dad told Carm he would have to get that crate out of there because it stunk to high heaven.  Then one day sometime after,  Dad saw some guys snooping around our back and he asked them what they wanted.  They said they were looking for the guy who drove them to Pipestone.  He told them where to go in no uncertain terms!  They left, but shortly thereafter Dad got a letter from the "Indian Agent" saying that Carm took these guys car and he had to give it back or there would be trouble.  Dad sat down and wrote this guy a letter saying they had dealt with a minor and took advantage of him.  He got the letter back; a letter of apology; and Carm kept the old car, which he eventually sold.  He was making deals of this nature all the time.  

One of his many antique cars

Several years ago, Margaret & I went into the big fair in Regina and Carm had 3 of his antique cars in the parade.  He was driving one and a couple of his friends were driving the others.  We were in the grandstand and when the parade terminated, the old cars were all lined up in front of the stand.  We hightailed it down to where they were parked.  Each of the cars carried a couple of dignitaries, Carm having 2 Government members and a representative of the Hiram Walker Scotch Whiskey company.  Inside was a thermos which this one fellow kept full and NOT with coffee.  Next to Carm was another of his cars and this one carried the Chief of Police and the R.C.M.P. Commissioner.  I don't know if they ever knew it but they were sitting on a cooler full of cold beer! Ironically, the driver said that when they were rounding a corner (and it was a very hot day), the one chap said to the other how nice a cold beer would taste about then.  He never offered them one! 

"The War Years" by Keith Dyon

I was working at Poole's farm at Kemnay near Brandon in 1939, the year war broke out.  I stayed there all that winter and then, in the spring of 1940 I was home in Antler and went to work again for Ed George setting up machinery, pedaling gas to farmers, helping in the store, etc.  Then in the fall of 1940 I, along with my brother Carm and our friend Ken Hawkins, were called up by the army for 30 days training in Regina.  I vividly recall our going to Regina on that venture.  The train left here about 6 pm and I sort of had a case of the stomach flu and wasn't feeling very well but, all along the line guys were getting on the train - some of them loaded with beer and whiskey.  By the time the train got into Regina, it was full and, a lot of the guys were 'full' as well.  Some of them were making great plans to finish off the night partying in a hotel but, they were in for quite a surprise.  When we arrived in Regina station, a few military personnel met us and we were immediately loaded into army vans and out to the exhibition grounds we went.  There was no further partying that night.  They herded us into part of the grain show building where they proceeded to turn us into soldiers. 
They gave us a type of medical assessment, a uniform, blankets, a rifle - the whole bit.  They then took us to our billets in another part of the building and told us that, though getting up time was normally 5:30 am and seeing we were getting to bed so late, we would not have to get up until 6!!  At 6 we were to be up with pants and sweater on and then we would gather for a half hour physical training session in front of the exhibition grandstand, after which we would go back to the barracks, dress in uniform and proceed to the mess hall for breakfast.  This was a procedure each morning from then on for the next 30 days except, as I said above, reveille was at 5:30.  We were thus out doing PT with the stars and moon still high in the sky and a little frost on the pumpkin, as this was in the month of October.  Training, drill, rifle, drill, marching, route marching, etc - this went on every day while we were there and I will say, they accomplished quite a bit with such raw material in that short time.  By the end of the 30 days we actually looked and acted like soldiers!  I didn't dislike the experience but Carm and the army didn't just get along too well and he was often at variance with army regulations...but somehow he managed to get through the 30 days like the rest of us. 

My brother Carman

One thing I know is, we were getting a little pay which was better than I had received at anything I had done since leaving school in 1934.  Also, we were getting good grub and a warm place to sleep.  For us, from the sticks, we were in the city with all its lights, crowds, and excitement.  It was really like a fine holiday and I realize that the training part was good for us.  There was one special event of interest went on in Regina that month which was of significance  and we, as soldiers, had a little part in it.  The premier showing of the movie "North West Mounted Police" was exhibited at three Regina theatres simultaneously and there were huge crowds.  It was sort of a holiday for the local Mountie training centre and they were all out in their scarlet uniforms and it was chiefly up to the city police to keep the crowds in order.  Some of the stars of the picture were present and made appearances at each of the movie houses - Madeleine Carrol was the leading lady and she was present along with Preston Foster and George Preston.  The guy I wanted to see was Gary Cooper who was the main actor but he was not at the showings.  That first evening as I said, there were huge crowds at each of the theatres and the city police called upon we soldiers to help hold the people back and generally keep things in order.  The first afternoon also there was a parade and the dignitaries rode around the streets in open carriages escorted by Mounties and again, we were used to line the route and help keep order.  It was an exciting, interesting event for us.  
We had many a route march during that month of training and in those days we could walk around Regina in an afternoon.  I saw quite a few shows and generally had a pretty good time.  My uncle, Arnold McVeigh, was working in Simpsons Store during that time and I spent a few evenings with him when possible.  One of my main army buddies was a fellow by the name of Tom Gracey who hailed from Oxbow where he had been working in the creamery.  He came  through the war later, like myself, being in the R.C.A.F. and after the war he settled in Esterhazy where he became Mayor of that town.  I always intended going to see him but a few years later he and his wife were both killed in a motor vehicle accident.  While in this 30 day training period, the army asked all who would volunteer for active service.  I did but there were lots of recruits so they sent us home at the end of the 30 days to await a call up to the South Saskatchewan Regiment.  I came home and went to work for Bill and Art Merrill in their hardware store.  The war went on and come July of 1941 I still had not been called back so I applied to the R.C.A.F. and in December of that year the Air Force called me to come in to Regina for a medical.  On December 3 I went to Regina and the next morning appeared at the recruiting centre in the new Trading Company building.  I was turned down for air crew training but was accepted into training as an R.D.F. mechanic - later known as 'Radar'. 
We were sworn in the next day and I was dispatched to the Manning Pool in Brandon, Manitoba where we were outfitted, given some training, and I was there until February of 1942 when I, along with some others, were sent to Ontario Agricultural College in Guelph for training in Physics and Radio.  I was there until June when we graduated.  After graduation, we had a couple of weeks leave and had to report in July to the R.A.F. Radar school in Clinton, Ontario.  I remember the old Physics professor at Guelph telling us that we had quite a job and he said that he was trying to teach us in 4 months what he normally taught to regular students in 2 years!  About 2 weeks following this training we had what they called a 'bar' exam.  Those who did not pass that exam were finished and sent back to Manning Pool and re-mustered into some other trade.   Those of us who passed went on and finished the Guelph phase and then to Clinton as I mentioned above.  It was hard for a lot of us and there were a small few who found it right up their ally.  At Clinton everything was highly secret - our text books, our notes, etc, were locked up every night so we could take nothing with us to study at night.  I managed the course some way or other and graduated.  We then got another leave after which we had to report to Moncton, New Brunswick where we spent about 3 weeks waiting to go overseas.  We were held up at Moncton longer than usual as just at that time a river was flooding at Truro, Nova Scotia and when we did get on our way at Truro, they had a freight train  parked across the bridge to help hold the bridge from washing out.  We got to Halifax and right away boarded a ship called the "Stirling Castle". 

The Stirling Castle

There again we were held up for several days waiting for some ships to come up from the States to join our convoy.  I remember when these American ships were drawing up along side of us at Halifax and our ships saluted them by dipping the flags and blowing their horns.  We were all leaning over the rail watching them sail by and among us there were quite a number or R.A.F. types.  One of the guys yelled out, "Have you got your Coke machines?"  No doubt they did have as the Americans had everything.  The next day the convoy formed and we headed out for sea and to England - 23 ships, troop ships, freighters, an escort of 8 destroyers and one cruiser.  There were around 5000 of us aboard our shop and we were crowded.  The second morning out to sea and all of a sudden there was a hell of a commotion - guns firing all over the convoy.  Every ship was firing and we didn't know what was going on.  Right away we thought we were under attack.  However as it turned out, it was just a practice firing and we were relieved as it was some scary experience!  
We sailed on for the next two or three days without incident and the ocean was pretty rough at times with huge waves that would hide our escort ships out on the fringe.  About 4 days out there suddenly was some activity as smoke started to pour out of the old Dutch freighter on our starboard side and again we thought we were being attacked as the destroyer escort came swooping around.  It was just a fire aboard that ship and they must have had it soon under control and everything went back to normal.  It was amazing to get up every morning and see all those ships in the exact same formation as when darkness set-in the night before - especially when one realized that during the whole trip, the convoy was constantly zig-zagging. 

Convoy

The meals weren't very appetizing.  There was lots of boiled fish and mutton, and that sort of thing. 
Some guys came down with terrible sea sickness.  I was one of the fortunate ones in that I didn't get sick.  The ship we were on had taken on supplies in South Africa before coming to Halifax and they had cheap cigarettes so we all, of course, bought some.  They were a terrible Cape to Cairo brand and we just couldn't smoke them at all - they smelled like burning rope!  Most of the rip was hot and stuffy down below decks and on top, it was windy and cold - really miserable.  The first indication that we weren't on water forever was the sight of Northern Ireland in the distance.  About this time we had a Spitfire escort come out and swoop around us.  It certainly boosted one's spirits to feel we were not forgotten on that vast expanse of water.  It was something to stand on deck and see one of those planes flying along-side down below us.  The next thing we knew was that we were anchored in the mouth of the Mersey River.  The next morning the tugs herded us into the docks at Liverpool in England.  This produced another good feeling.  We were along the dock all day putting in time and watching the activity way below us.  We had a good time tossing those cigarettes down and watching the workers scramble for them.  Cigarettes of any kind were rather hard to come by in England at that time. 
I recall also two American officers walking along the docks and some guy hollered down at them asking who won the World Series.  Before they could answer some 'wit'  hollered back "Who won the last war?"  There was always some humour.  Later that evening we started to disembark.  Some R.A.F. types led us by lantern light to the railway yards where we were put aboard a train which shortly took off for some place in England.  I remember when daylight came and we could see the lovely English countryside out the windows and the Villages that we passed through with their tidy homes and multiple chimneys on every rooftop.  Early in the morning we stopped and were told that 'this was it'.  We were in Bournemouth on the south coast of England. 

 Resort area at Bournemouth

An R.C.A.F. band met us at the station and escorted us to our billets which were former holiday hotels in the city.  We were allotted our rooms and shown the Mess Hall as well as various other areas and so, we spent the first day getting oriented and made a trip or two into the city centre.  That night another little guy and myself ventured up town in the blackout.  We found a pub of course and had a beer or two and then thought we'd better get back to our 'digs' before we got lost.  ON the way back we met an R.A.F. chap whom we got talking with and he asked us if we would like to come to a small dance party.  He took us into a place where there were a few R.A.F. guys and some English Army girls dancing to a record player.  Pretty soon my friend and I latched on to a couple of girls and they took us to our billets and then went on their way.  They told us where they were billeted athe the Picardy Hotel and that they would go out with us the following evening.  Our billet we learned was known as the East Cliff Court - which in peace time was a resort hotel.  Peggy Hinkley was the name of the young lady I had become acquainted with and she said she knew a little about Canada from her father who was a captain of a passenger liner which called in often in Halifax.  She said he always brought back issues of the Toronto Star which, at that time, was a very popular and interesting paper with lots of glossy pictures.  I might add that the 2nd day we were in Bournemouth we saw the R.C.A.F. band (the one that met us at the station) as they were marching down the street and lo and behold one of the members was Siggy Johnson from Sinclair, Manitoba.  The last time I had seen Siggy was dancing at the Esquire Dance Hall in Brandon wher ehe was playing with Roy Brown's orchestra.  In February of 1942 I had been dancing to his music and here in October of that same year, he was in England!  I went up to see Siggy at his billet a few times while we were still in Bournemouth.  Out of the band he had assembled other guys and they formed an orchestra and went about playing for parties and dances around the countryside.  This was sort of bootlegging but you couldn't keep a good musician down in those days.  They called their band 'Sig Johnson and his Puddle Jumpers'.  Later in the war years when I was further overseas, I used to hear Siggy playing in the R.C.A.F. band from London over the B.B.C. and his name was often mentioned since he arranged much of the music himself. He was an accomplished musician though he had no formal training whatsoever.
We were thus around Bournemouth for 3 to 4 weeks when we were posted to our jobs at various stations throughout the U.K.  There were 5 of us who sort of stuck together and with a few cigarettes we got the orderly office to post the 5 of us to our first station which was at Scampton in Lincolnshire, about 7 miles out of Lincoln itself.  This was a Bomber Command station so when they found this out we then lay around the station for another 3 weeks until they got us sorted out.  We didn't know it at the time but this station became famous for its training of some of the squadrons whose task it would become to bomb the dams in west Germany.  They became knows as the 'Dambusters' and a movie was made about this event or, should I say, this 'special operation'.  I recall that Squadron #57 was the one we had erroneously been posted to.  It was here at Scampton that I saw the King of England at that time, George the VI. 

King George's visit

He made a flying visit to Scampton one day to decorate a few aircrew and to dedicate a new Lancaster bomber.  They had most of us line the route in the station as he progressed from one building to another.  I was happy to see His Majesty seeing that I was in his country.  I managed a couple of close-ups and he looked just like his pictures.  He was in Air Force Blue like the rest of us.   Also in Scampton I was in my one and only funeral parade.  A plane crashed on landing at our station and the whole crew of 8 were killed and two of the chaps were buried in the local cemetery, and I was in the honour guard.   I had no idea who the unfortunates were though they were in our station.  They were buried, of course, with full military honours.
So about 3 weeks after we were at Scampton the authorities decided that we should be sent to our proper work and the 5 of us were no longer together as we were sent to different stations.  Those 5 of us were myself; Ivan Gorman from Merrickville, Ontario; Doug Davidson from somewhere in Manitoba; a fellow by the name of Sinclair from Winnipeg; and Goody Goodmanson from Glenboro, Manitoba.  Of these 5 , the latter and I were pals.  In the shuffle I was sent to headquarters R.A.F at Dyce near Aberdeen, Scotland.  Goodmanson was sent to somewhere in England but was not long there when he was sent to Gibraltar.  At Dyce Air Station there was a Canadian squadron of Beaufighters and naturally, the authorities thought that was where I should go but it was not to be.  I was to be with headquarters looking after a radar beacon a few miles from the station.  However, I did become acquainted with a few of the boys on 404 Squadron and one of them was a Bob McMurchy from Reston, Manitoba.  Shortly after I was on Dyce however, the Canadian outfit were dispatched to the Shetland Islands and I didn't see them again.  Dyce though was a training station for Spitfires and there was quite a bit of activity all the time.  I was to spend the next year at this station in Scotland and I
enjoyed it very  much.  I learned to talk with a Scottish accent and imbibe in a dram or two of Scotch as well.  It was late November when I was sent to Dyce and I was there until December 24th in 1943.  I very much enjoyed my job while in Dyce and also the 'Granite City' of Aberdeen - a fine city with most buildings built of granite with several quarries near the city.  Some of the hotels I used to frequent there were the Caledonian, quite a posh place; the George Hotel, with a very popular pub; and the Douglas, another very popular place. 

Caledonian Hotel in Aberdeen

Just across the street from the Caledonian was the Palaise Royale, a large and very popular dance hall.  I did many a whir there and the music was chiefly provided by 'Smiling Archie Alexander' and his band.  They were mostly veterans who had been wounded and were discharged from the army.  I remember the one trumpet player - he was great and only had one arm!  It was in the Douglas Hotel that I first was introduced to the Scotch liquor called Drambuie.  It was an expensive but very palatable drink.  The West End Cafe was another spot in Aberdeen that I frequented whenever I had a day off.  I liked the coffee there and they served you the raw coffee in one silver pot and with it, a silver pot of hot milk.  You mixed it to your own taste.  I had never been anywhere that they served coffee in that manner but it was extremely good.   
Many memorable things took place while I was in Dyce.  The day after I arrived there I was paraded before the Assistant Signals Officer, a chap by the name of Prentice.  I thought it all so military and I acted accordingly but right away he put me at ease.  The first thing he asked me was where did I come from in Canada.  I told him I came from a little place called Antler out west in Saskatchewan.  He asked me if, by any chance, would I be a 'cowboy'.  He said he would sure like to meet a genuine cowboy.  I had to disappoint him but he and I got along great until he was posted elsewhere.  By rare coincidence I met him once again on a tube train in London and we stopped at a nearby pub and chewed the rag over an ale.
One time at Dyce the grass above and around the station Bomb Dump caught on fire and all the available personnel were called to fight it.  We weren't long extinguishing it but as a greenhorn I was a little apprehensive - a fire in a bomb dump!

Another unique event was the Sunday afternoon when a German aircraft from Norway came across to Scotland to give themselves up; they had tired of war.  The plane was a Junkers 88, a sort of a fighter bomber and there were three crew members aboard.  It was an exciting day for our airdrome and a great relief for the German crew.  It was quite a sight - 3 Spitfires from our station had gone out to intercept the enemy craft.  They signaled that they wanted to surrender so the Spitfire herded them into our station, a feather in the cap of the station command! 

This is the actual Nazi aircraft that defected while your dad was in Dyce.  It was one of the most important defections of the war as it had very advanced radar on it intact which they could study.  The plane is now on display in the RAF Museum in England.

Another memorable hair-raising  event was the night Aberdeen was bombed - it was a beautiful April evening as I recall.  I had not done into Aberdeen but rather, I went to the dance at the station.  While at the dance I was called to go down to the flying control as one of their communication sets had gone on the fritz.  While I was in the control tower an air raid warning sounded - 'air warning purple'.  We didn't pay much attention at first as this was a frequent occurrence because 'Jerry' was always sending reconnaissance planes over our area.  However, shortly after that, an air raid warning 'red' wounded and this meant that a number of enemy planes were heading for our immediate area.  The Control Officer told us all to get down on our stomachs.  Thin it happened!  There was a terrific explosion followed by another and another and another...  Our whole structure just shook even though it was half buried in the ground.  Being a greenhorn I thought some bombs had fallen right outside but when things cleared up, I found out the bombs were falling 5 miles away in Aberdeen itself.  We come out of the control tower and we could see the fires burning way off to the west.  I was some relieved but wasn't anxious to have an encore.  The next day or so when I went to Aberdeen I saw the damage, mostly residential areas and the docks.  The German papers said they had reduced Aberdeen to a heap of granite chips. 
This was all a bunch of bologna.  They did a lot of damage yes, but mostly to residences.  There were quite a number of people killed or wounded.  People had gotten used to air raid warnings and nothing happening so a lot of people were caught off guard and where ever they happened to be.  That was the second and the last one of the war on that city.  I had made many good friends during my time in Aberdeen including Tommy Watt, a station signals warrant officer; Corporal Dennis Hendry, a real wizard when it come to communication electronics.  He was later posted from Dyce and became a Signals Officer; F/L Buchanan; F/L Douglas;  and F/L Merrill.  Some of the signals W.A.A.F.'s were Ella Corson who wrote me faithfully until her untimely death; Muriel Henderson, May Long the singer; and also Margaret McCAllum who sang with the station orchestra as well as a girl by the name of Glew.  We called her 'Sticky Glew'.  I remember one girl in the battery charging section whom we called 'Acc Room Annie'.

At the Beach

I really enjoyed my stay in Aberdeen but it had to end sometime and the day before Christmas in 1943 I landed down at Thorny Island near Portsmouth on a fighter squadron where we worked on the Spitfire and Mosquito aircraft.  The little village on the mainland adjoining Thorny Island was a place called Emsworth and there, we used to frequent the pub.  I was here about 3 months all told.  Nothing much happened during that period except that there was a lot of German flying activity and we were awakened several nights and told to get out of our billets and head for the shelters.  I used to get out of the billet but I was always reluctant to go down like a rat in a hole so I, along with a few others, would stand outside the buildings and watch the activity in the skies above.  The 'Jerries' were at that time pulling off a lot of nuisance raids up towards London and their path for some of these raids took them over our area.  There was always the chance that if our guns and fighters would get too hot for them, they would let their bombs drop indiscriminately and they would high-tail it back to France.  However, none were dropped in our immediate areal while I was on that station.  It was scary at times but there were some brilliant fireworks.  Sometimes the light beams would get a plane in their beams and we would watch the enemy try and wriggle his way out of their focus all the while the guns on the station would be firing at him and the tracer bullets made quite a fireworks display.  One time, a squadron of American fighters landed on our station.  They'd been on a daytime mission  and the weather turned bad so they landed at the first airdrome they spotted.  Off the coast here was the Isle of Mann and we used to see landing craft practicing in the distance for the invasion of the continent.  Again, on this station, I met a lot of nice guys and gals.  We were not too far from London at this point and I got up there again for a leave and the odd day off.  In fact, on one of these weekends, another guy and I ventured to London and we experienced one of the largest latter-day air raids on that city.  I am telling you that was a night I shall not forget!  No matter what window we looked out from, there were fires burning and the noise was shattering.  We were in a former hotel near Hyde Park, which housed areas of anti-aircraft guns and rockets.  When they would open up at the enemy in the sky it was like all hell broke loose!  The sky was lit up with magnesium flares which the enemy dropped to help light up their targets.  There were bombs exploding with their attendant fires and flashes from the anti-aircraft guns it was a sight to behold.  We didn't sleep much that night.  There were a couple of other soldiers in our room who'd been partying and were somewhat inebriated.   They knew nothing of the night's excitement until we told them in the morning.  This was one of the last big aircraft raids  on London.  The date was March, 1944.  We were most relieved to head back to our station the next day as we wanted no more of 'that' business!  

Thorny Island planes

While at Thorny Island I worked on a greater variety of aircraft - Spitfires, Mosquitoes, Forts, Super Forts, and the odd Beaufighter.  It was quite an operational station with lots of activity.  The anti-aircraft guns got quite a work-out at Thorny most ever night.  One night when I was on guard duty and in our billet, shrapnel was falling on it like a rain storm - or more like hail in fact.  At times like that, we all had to get out and keep an eye on the aircraft on the ground in the event of fires.  As I said, we were near the seaport of Portsmouth and it was always in danger of being a target.  
In March of 1944 I was posted to Thornaby in Yorkshire, a twin-city of Stockton-on-Tees on the upper east coast of England.  I was assigned to an Air-Sea Rescue Squadron  which was a fleet of Warwick Aircraft whose special duty was for search and rescue of downed airmen in the sea.  At  Thoraby I was quartered right in the city in the Labour Hall and thus pretty near every night was freee to tak in the pub, a dance, or what-have-you.  The most frequented place was the Palaise de Dance in Stockton, across the river from Thornaby.  I enjoyed my stay there pretty well but it wasn't to be for too long.  That same month I was advised of and sent to the Tropics and we were sent to Blackpool for indoctrination.  In peace-time, Blackpool was a vast playground for workers on vacation in the midlands.  It was a city of amusement places, boarding houses, hotels, pubs, theatres, and the like.  The waterfront was one long extended fair grounds with rides of all description including rides up the waterfront for a few miles in horse drawn vehicles.  The Tower in Blackpool was an outstanding edifice. 

Blackpool Tower

There were many floors and some contained dance halls, pubs, one floor even had an animal menagerie; one or two floors were for observation and you could go up and sit on chesterfields and look over the city or out to sea.  I spent one night in this tower trying to sleep on one of these seats.  When we had gotten to our billets on this particular night, we were locked out so we went back down town but, where ever we went - the Sally Anne, the Police Station, or wherever - everything was filled up.  So this guy and I finally asked a Bobby if he knew of any place we might find for the night as it was early April and quite cool at the time.  He said to go to the Tower and along the street we would see a faint light at sidewalk level.  There was a door there and inside we would find a couple of night watchmen.  We were to slip them a couple of 'bob' (about 50 cents) and they would give us a place for the night.  We did as instructed and one of the old guys took us up about 3 or 4 floors and gave us each a settee to sleep on or, in this case, to attempt to sleep on.  I'll bet there were about 50 other guys laying around on these sofas.  The old chaps must have been doing quite a business on the side.  Anyway, he told us he would be around at 6 AM to get us out before any officials came around.  It was a shelter but we did not sleep much what with the old tower creaking with the wind, and the roar of the animals on the floor above us.  Before he took us up, he took us to the bathroom and that was that for the night!  Maybe the Bobby got a cut, but anyway, we were glad to get in somewhere.  In the morning he came around with his 'torch' and roused us all and told us there was an all night cafe just down the street where we could get some breakfast.  While in Blackpool we were indoctrinated, and inoculated for Yellow Fever, and issued a tropical kit in a former Woolworth building.  After 2 or 3 weeks at Blackpool we were put on trains for Liverpool where we boarded  ship & readied for our trip south to the Tropics.  We still didn't know exactly where we were going but there were lots of rumours.  The ship was a rather nice - a Free French liner called the "Felix Roussel".  I guess it was especially fitted for the tropics as it had air conditioning below decks.  The main crew were Frenchmen.  The working hands wer mostly natives of India.  The ship was not crowded and there was lots of room below decks.  There were a whole bunch of British Chinese merchantmen going with us to get on ships in South Africa.  It sounded funny to me at that time to hear a Chinese person speaking with an English accent.  We sailed for quite a few days and nights.  We were told that when we left Liverpool we went up north first, up near Iceland and then downwards in the Atlantic.  At one time they said we were near America;  this all to try and avoid the German U-Boats.  After several days, I think about 8, we saw a light off to the Port side.  We went to bed and in the middle of the night I awoke to the rattle of anchors.  I went up topside and it was a sight to behold!  There, on one side of the ship was the Rock of Gibraltar all lit up like a Christmas tree.  This was my impression at first sight, chiefly because we had not seen anything lit up since leaving Canada.  On the other side and in the distance, was the coast of Spain.  Our convoy had pulled into the Rock during the night.  Some of the convoy were going through the Mediterranean to the Middle East but we were going further south.  So, we sat in Gibraltar for a day or two and I can still see the ship taking on a large supply of Spanish oranges - something that we never saw in England.  After a couple of days we left, along with 3 other ships and a destroyer escort and headed back out into the Atlantic.  By this time we were in a warm weather climate and had been changed into tropical clothes.  As we proceeded south, there was on incident that I recall in particular.  An airman fell or jumped overboard on the ship ahead of us.  I think he must have fallen over the rail.  Anyway, he went bobbing past our ship and fortunately for him, one of the destroyer escorts came swooping around and picked him up.  We were in warmer waters by now and I don't think it was a good place to go swimming as watching the water one could frequently see a shark's fin protruding.  I imagine he was happy to be pulled out!  Something else to see on this part of the journey were the schools of flying fishes; they were not very big but they jump out of the water with quite a leap and just rise like a flock of birds.

By this time, rumour had it that we were going to Tacoradi in Nigeria which happened to be true for some of us.  But myself and a number of others were slated to go to Freetown in Sierra Leonne - 'home of the Lion'.  So, after several days on the ship we dropped anchor again during the night and when we went on deck we were in the harbour at Freetown. 

Sierra Leone

It was quite an experience and the heat was stifling.  The sun was just rising and it was like a huge ball of fire which of course it is, but it was much more apparent there as we were now only a few miles north of the Equator.  There appeared to be a murky, smoky haze and this was from the many fires throughout the coastal forests that the natives had for their cooking.  There were no docks for the big ships so we had to be taken ashore on smaller boats which came along-side.  Here we were getting off the ship on to a lighter one carrying all our kit and a Sten Gun, ammunition, etc.  The heat was terribly humid.  I thought that I would never last a week in that climate.  When on shore, we quickly got in the shade of a huge mango tree and shed our pack sacks, kit, and guns.  From there we were taken by trucks to a receiving station where our inoculation certificates and other papers were checked.  If you didn't have your Yellow Fever shot certificate you were immediately put into quarantine where they gave you a shot and you had to remain for a couple of weeks.  From there we were put onto a train which looked like a toy - the cars were all open and you sat on long side benches.  The engine was about the height of a man.  They say that the railroad had been built by Procter and Gamble to haul out some kind of mineral or something that they used in the manufacture of their soap products.  The rail gauge was quite narrow and it did look like a real toy train but, away we went for about 25 miles inland to a station called Jui which was an air force base for Sunderland Flying boats which were used for escort convoy duty in the mid-Atlantic.  This camp was to be our home for the next full year or more.  There were about 10 or 12  of us Canadians who were attached to the R.A.F. and our purpose out there was to work on the Radar equipment in the Sunderlands. 
We were quartered in a couple of Quonset huts and each hut had a native boy who did our tidying up, washing, ironing, etc.  Each hut had about 3 large fans in the ceiling which went all the time.  There was no glass in the windows, just screens with outside shutters to close in the bad storms.  Our bunks were fitted with mosquito netting which you tucked in each night upon going to bed.  I think they better served the purpose of keeping the rats from crawling over us as we slept - they were big rats!  I awoke one night and I knew there was one on top of my net so I kicked and heard him hit the tin ceiling.   The natives were commonly called 'Wogs' and we had 2 different houseboys while there.   Two diseases were to be avoided if at all possible out there besides Yellow Fever - those being Malaria and Sleeping Sickness - the latter was carried by the Tsetse fly while Malaria was spread by the bite of the Anopheles Mosquito.  We were supposed to take anti-malaria pills every day which most of us did but, there was the odd guy who neglected to do so and some did get Malaria which is a horrible recurring disease.  An annoying discomfort caught pretty well everyone from time to time was prickly heat - a skin disorder caused by the hot humid climate.  Some had it so bad that they would have to be shipped back to England.  In the day time one just went about in a pair of khaki shorts but at night you had to wear long pants and a shirt with sleeves as it was in the evenings when on might be subject to the bites of mosquitoes.  The 'mossies' only came out at night  as it was too hot for them in the day time. 
Night and day were equal out there - 12 hours each.  And the seasons were only different in that half the year was wet and the other half dry.  The wet season came in with violent thunder storms.  The temperature year 'round was in the 90's F and working out on the water and inside a Sunderland, the temperature got up to around 130 F  at times.  We would go out to where the planes were anchored by a dingy and the waters were infested with deadly Barracuda fish as well as crocodiles so, you didn't venture into the water to get cool.  It was not safe to even dangle your leg over the side .  Sunderlands were huge flying boats and they would go out for an ocean sweep or on convoy duty for 12 hours at a time with a crew of around 10.  Bananas, oranges, limes and pineapples grew abundantly and there were lots of coconuts!   The bush was full of monkeys and the natives called them 'bush-boys' and if you called a native that, he was highly insulted.  Snakes were also plentiful - big Boa's and very poisonous black and green Mambas.  There were also both panthers and leopards roaming all over.  We always had lots of beer in big quart bottles - Dow's Black Horse - but there was no refrigeration so you drank 'er hot.  The air crew boys used to bring up whiskey from South Africa.  Though it was terribly hot we had to work harder out there than in England due to the fact that electronic equipment seemed to break down more frequently.  I think the humidity and the climate had a lot to do with that.  It was awfully high, one just perspired all the time and any clothes touching your skin would have a wet spot.  You had to change quite frequently which wasn't any problem as the native boys washed and ironed your stuff every day.  There was quite a variety of crew people from all over the Commonwealth and among them were some Canadians and, though most were of Officer rank and had their own billets, they made our billet their social headquarters, even sometimes going to eat at our Mess.

Freetown Sierra Leone

  Some said our grub was as good as theirs.  We all had lots of parties in our billet and I made a sign for our front calling it "Canada House".  I spent Christmas 1944 in this setting.  It seemed rather strange at such a high, humid temperature but with our combined parcels from home and some Blackhorse, we celebrated pretty well.  It was out here that I chummed around  with a man by the name of George Henley - a guy from the backwoods of Nova Scotia and who, after the war had risen to be the Right Honourable George Henley, Minister of Lands and Forests government in Nova Scotia.  Little did George think of attaining this position  while in Africa.  While at Jui there was a certain job which some of us were, in turn, allocated to do and that was to look after a Radar Beacon in an isolated spot overlooking the harbour at Freetown.  It was weird.  You were all alone for a week with little to do but turn the beacon on and off.  It was a lonesome and scary place.  There were no windows, just screens and at night you imagined that some natives were peering in at you boding no good.  At times there were terrific lightning  and thunder storms and those nights were especially fearsome with every flash.  You imagined you saw a face looking in your screens.  I guess it was chiefly one's imagination as I never heard of any disturbance and I certainly had never had an incident.  In the daytime it wasn't too bad.  You could watch ships coming and going through the submarine barrier at the harbour's mouth.  There was also an R.A.F. Rescue launch anchored in the harbour which one could visit during daylight.  On days off from regular work there was no place to go.  You could go out of camp and walk around a native village but there wasn't much to see except lots of bare flesh - clothes were not an important item out there.  The natives went around pretty bare and sometimes ALL bare.  Normally we would just lay around our billet reading magazines or papers from home.  We had a good service short wave radio and listened to the B.B.C. most of the time.  We could get American stations and I do recall us listening to the World Series that year. A most popular program was 'Forces Favourites' on the B.B.C. London.  We heard a lot of Vera Lynn in those days and she was probably the most popular artist - one of my favourites.
There were lots of monkeys around and you could see them at all times up in the brush above the water of the lagoon we were in.  Some fellows would occasionally catch one and they soon became tame.  They liked gum, candies and they would even chew tobacco. One time, 2 o 3 of us bought a 4 foot Boa constrictor, just a young one, but the native who sold it to us said that they were great for catching rats.  Well, we had the rats but some of our guys strongly objected to having such a creature in the billet so we put it in a kind of pen outside.  In the morning, it was gone - probably the same native who sold it to us came back and got it and sold it to some others.  One time one of our guys lost his wrist watch and figured our native clean-up boy had taken it but one day a guy laying on his bunk noticed something shiny in the crack of the Quonset ceiling.  There was a wrist watch that a rat had tried to take - they were big, healthy rats!  Bananas were most plentiful but we didn't bother picking them because there was always the chance of meeting up with a poisonous snake.  The 'doby boy' would usually bring in a bunch when they came in to work in the morning and we would give him a six-pense  for half a dozen - the same with pineapples and coconuts.  
The country itself was really jungle growth.  We were on the lagoon about 25 miles inland.  There was a road and the British had it paved from Jui to Freetown but boy, was a perilous trip by truck - narrow, mountainous, sharp curves, and one very perilous curve known as 'The Devils' Elbow'.  It was a hair raiser, especially with a careless driver at the wheel - there were many accidents.  Also there were several high wooden trestle bridges across streams which gave you the willies to look down when crossing.  We often saw native women down at the bottom doing their washing in the waters below.  We referred to one of such places as 'Swinging Tit Valley' :)  

RobertsField, Liberia

While in Sierra Leone, one of our number would occasionally be assigned to a radar beacon down the coast about 400 miles to an American airfield in Robertsfield, Liberia - another country altogether.  Although it was American, the R.A.F. used it for a stop over while going down the coast and they had a radar beacon of their own for the assisted guidance of our own aircraft flying that route, especially the D.C. 3 mail planes.  This was quite a camp which was used chiefly by the Americans as a stop for their planes going back and forth from the far east.  There were 2 main sections to the camp - one for white Americans and a part set aside for black Americans, and we few of the R.A.F. were sandwiched in between.  Most of the time we used the facilities of the black section as it was much closer and they treated us very well.  They had a theatre and a good PX store.  If, for instance, the store got in a few Parker pens or lighters or such like, anyone who wished to purchase one would have to put their name in a hat and, if your name were drawn, you then could buy one of these items.  The blacks treated us just the same as one of their own numbers.  I once had my name drawn and bought a Parker 51 fountain pen which I still have.  A lot of things such as soap and cigarettes were rationed but they had ice-cream, Coke, Camels, Rawleigh, and Lucky Strike smokes, ice cold beer and other drinks too - much like home.  You had to be careful prowling around there at night though as their guards were liable to shoot first and inquire later.  These guys even had a medically inspected and supervised brothel but this was off bounds to all whites.  Their own military police walked around with a billy stick and a big automatic 45 strapped to their thighs.  We used to walk back to our part of the camp sometimes but in bunches and not alone.   The theatre, like all the other buildings, just had screens for windows and often when there was a show, you would see the natives with their faces glued to the screens watching the 'white mammas' on the silver screen.
As I said previously, the war with Germany ended while I was in Africa but it was about a month after that the hostilities ceased before we started back for England.  We were scheduled to go back and then be sent out to the far east where the 'Japs' were still an enemy, but that changed before long.  While in Robertsfield, we were paid in American money, mostly in silver dollars though the British money looked just as good to us.  We of course were ushered back to our base camp at Jui where we spent a little time before heading back to England.  We were thrilled to be going back as we would be having a brief respite but I admit, I was going to miss the warmth of the weather.   We were lucky though as we would be going back to England in July.
I brought back a few souvenirs from my stay in Africa, some of which were items made by the natives - cigarette cases made out of aircraft aluminum and crafted by Italian prisoners of war who were being housed out there.  These prisoners were as happy as hell to be out there and away from any real war such as was taking place in their country.  The natives made things like bull-whips, knives in scabbards made out of snake and lizard skins, handbags and shoes made out of alligator skins and bracelets made out of silver wire.  
Well, as I said, we were taken back to Jui and then one day we were loaded on the same little train that took us out there and into Freetown were we boarded ship for return to England.  This boat was a Canadian ship called "The Duchess of Bedford".  The ship wasn't too crowded and we had a good trip home.  The trip back was shorter as well because there was no danger of U-boats and they could steer a more direct course.  We went right up along side the Canary Islands and could see lights of the cities on those islands.  The next sight of land was the coast of Ireland, as we went up between Ireland and England to Liverpool again and also from Liverpool we went back down by train to Bournemouth where we spent a month in July - just like a big holiday.  All we had to do was put in time, eat, sleep, go dancing or to shows, lie on the ocean beach - it was GREAT!    The meals were a great improvement tow hat they had been and we even got nice white cold milk, and eggs for breakfast - and all the fear of bombing raids was gone.

After about a month of this lollydollying around we were scheduled to go home for a month's leave and then report back for possible service in the far east.  We were to be taken by train from Bournemouth to Gourick, up near Glasgow to board ship.  I remember running to catch the train with a mug of beer in my hand.  It was a British glass pint mug and I managed to git it home in one piece.  We traveled  the length of England and got to our destination in the morning when we were ushered aboard the ship for home.  The ship was a huge one called "The Isle De France"

The Isle De France

and there were about 10,000 on board.  All the way back it was like a fair ground on the weather deck with all kinds of gambling games going on and you could quickly lose your bit of money or, some did make a fortune playing black jack, poker, or rolling dice.  Also on board our ship was a General Commander for the Canadian troops in France.  When we got to Halifax he was met by no less than the Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King himself.  This was about the 7th of August in 1945 and while we were yet at sea the atom bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima and the war with Japan had ended.  As a result, orders were changed and we were to be sent directly home for a month's leave and then to proceed to be discharged.  Coming over on the ship we had a couple of days of real fog.  You couldn't see the length of the ship and the fog horns kept blowing night and day.  I remember we had a roast turkey for one meal, likely because the General was on board.  Except for gambling, the trip home was uneventful.  We disembarked at Halifax and were then put on trains to be taken off at Lachine, Quebec - a suburb of Montreal.  At this point, we were issued tickets for our respective homes and paid our dues.  It was another 3 or 4 days before we were able to leave so  I teamed up with another guy whose home was Tisdale, Saskatchewan and we proceeded to see and do as much in Montreal as we could.  We didn't get far beyond St. Catherine's Street though.  After a day or two at Lachine, we were herded on trains for home and after about a month at home I had to go to Regina on September 14th, 1945 at which time I was officially discharged.  Shortly after coming home, I was advised that I was still on the reserve list in case of an emergency.  And THAT was the end of my career in the R.C.A.F.  
I was never injured and hardly ever a sick day and I would have to say that I enjoyed the whole experience very much.  

Here, I may have some incidents from the war years that I may put down on paper that I have not included so far.  One such incident was my first experience on guard duty in England.  It was while I was at Scampton.  I had only been in England for about a month and only 1 week at Scampton (which was a big bomber station) and this day I had been advised that I was to serve on guard duty that very  night.  I was to report to the armouries  at 4 PM to draw a rifle and ammunition.  By 4 o'clock, at that time of year, it is already dark and I didn't know where the armouries were located.  However, after much asking, I found the place and got a rifle and about 20 rounds of shells.  At 6 PM I had to report to the drill square, which I did, and there a truck was to pick us guys up and take us out around the perimeter track where we were to do our guard duty.  The fog was so thick you couldn't see your hand before you.  They dumped another R.A.F. type and myself out there in the dark and fog and told us to walk up and down the perimeter for a space and thus guard the aircraft stationed every few yards apart..  In the course of doing so this R.A.F. guy noticed a light shining in one of the airplanes and he said we should check it out.  I was green at this job but he had had such chores before.  He said for me to cover him and he would climb in the plane and see what's what.  Well I had a hell of a time putting shells in the rifle and then I was afraid I might shoot him or myself!  He clambered in the plane to see what was going on and it was just some mechanic, during the day, that had left a small cockpit light on so I was very much relieved after that.  When our turn, around midnight, came up for relief, the fog was so thick that the lorry had a terrible time finding us again.  The whole thing was really routine but to a greenhorn it was a little fearsome.  I had other such experiences out in Africa - the jungle was always full of noises and when on guard duty one imagined with every noise in the bush that someone or something was about to pounce on us from the blackness.  The natives had a habit of robbing guys just for their clothes and I doubt if I could have shot an intruder.  Guard duty at Robertsfield was nothing as we had very little to worry about.  The place was well guarded by the U.S. military personnel.
The 'leave' hostels were quite a boon to those of us overseas.  I didn't get to many outside London.  I did spend a leave at one place in Aberdeen in a hostel operated on Union Street by a Mrs. Gordon - a kindly woman who I think treated me kind of special.  I say this because she had me eat with the family rather than with the other boys.  Maybe it was because I was the only Canadian - where everything was rationed, I was treated royally.  I did contribute a little by bringing along a parcel or 2 that I had accumulated and a piece of Christmas cake was a real treat to those people at that time.  I spent another leave, or part of it, at Bournemouth - a city I was already familiar with .  I went back there from Aberdeen because I found out, from a letter from my sister Mona, that my old friend Ken Hawkins (also from Antler) was on his way to England.  At the same time I saw where a contingent of newly arrived airmen were taken to Bournemouth so I thought maybe Ken would be among them.  Sure enough, I went to Bournemouth and the 2nd day I was there I ran into Ken and a pal of his.  They were both broke and his friend was trying to hawk a wrist watch his sister had given him.  Also, at the same place, I ran into another guy from home, Jack Lardner.  He had come over on the same convoy with Ken and I found him lollying in the lovely park in the centre of the city so I spent a day or 2 with these guys then headed back to London for the remainder of my leave.
London - the place I think every service man headed at one time or another.  There were lots of hostels to stay at and plenty to see and do that did not cost too much.  The Palace; Changing of the Guard; Westminster Abbey; Marble Arch; Trafalgar Square and its pigeons; St. Paul's Cathedral; Fleet Street; Piccadilly; Hyde Park; Speaker's Corner; The Tower of London; the Mother of Parliaments; Big Ben; Westminster Bridge where Wordsworth wrote a poem; plus many other sights.  I made it a point to see lots but since I have come home I realize that there were lots of things I didn't see and wished that I had.  I used to stay at a former hotel which was taken over as a hostel.  It was located in the Lancaster Gate area called the 'Duchy Hotel Lancaster Gate'. 

Lancaster Gate

I also stayed at a place called the 'Albion Court' .  I was there the  night of the last big raid on London in March of 1944.  There was also the 'Beaver Club' in Trafalgar where one went for games, lunches, and organized tours.  I always tried to get a good old fashioned peanut butter sandwich and a bottle of Coke at all of these places - these were favourites for a lot of Canadians but you couldn't always get them.   I think they had Pepsi at the Beaver Club and it always tasted pretty good regardless.  One morning, from the Beaver Club, I went on an organized tour to the Tower of London.  It was quite exciting and interesting.  This is where they kept the Crown Jewels; it is where Traitor's Gate is located; it holds the spot where Mary, Queen of Scot's was beheaded; the spot where the 2 young Princes were murdered; the Chapel built by William the Conqueror in 1066; and many other notable things which I can't recall at the moment.  Most of the time though, I went on my own to many of these places and then a person could wander about as you pleased.  At St. Paul's  I was on my own and saw Nelson's tomb and the carriage that the body of the Duke of Wellington was carried on through London.  I saw the 'Whispering Dome' and from there one could see for blocks, the devastation caused by the bombing in that area.  Miraculously, the Cathedral was not much damaged and, at the time I was there, they were busily repairing the dome where a bomb had exploded. 
Westminster Abbey I had explored several times - I walked on the graves of Kings.  The gates at Buckingham Palace I visited several times as well to witness the changing of the guards - a colourful sight to behold.  On one occasion when I had my face glued to the fence, the Queen was driven out through one of the gates in her limousine.  She was bound for some function in London that day.  There had been lots of bomb damage in London but it is a vast place and you could travel a long way and not see too much - most of it had already been cleaned up.  I also saw 'Cleopatra's Needle' on the banks of the Thames. 

Cleopatra's Needle in London

I stood on Westminster Bridge; the Tower Bridge; stood by the 'Serpentine' in St. James Park; and the Horse Guard's Palace in the same area.  I also stood in front of Number 10 Downing Street - headquarters of the Prime Minister who, at that time, was Churchill.  It has been the home of British Prime Ministers for centuries.  At all times, out in front, stood an unarmed London Bobby and, I guess it is just the same today.  The great dance halls were something at Covent Garden - the famed opera house turned into a magnificent dance pavilion during the war.  The night I was there, there were something like 2000 people dancing and there was a great crystal ball hanging which showered all with hundreds of pinpoints of light and there was a revolving orchestra stand with two orchestras playing .  The seats in the balcony were all royal red plush.  Then there was the Hammersmith Palais out in the Earl's Court area of London where at times, it was said, there would be 7000 dancers on the floor.  On one occasion when I was there, the orchestra was Lou Praeger and his band.  

Out in Africa, while at Jui, they would send us (in turn) to a rest camp up in the hills.  This wasn't much different than the base camp except you had nothing to do but lie around, drink a little beer and sometimes there was a picture show to attend.  Chiefly, you just basked in the heat and you didn't get into much trouble.  They used to send us to this camp in pairs so we wouldn't feel so lonely I suppose.  My partner here was George Boak, a former bank clerk from Amherst, Nova Scotia.  Most leaves were spent sight seeing wherever we were.  We took in lots of dances, large crowds, lots of girls, good music and of course, most of us spent considerable time in the various pubs with their fascinating names like 'The Hound & Hare' , 'The Red Lion', 'Farmer's Daughter', and 'The Boar's Head' to name a few.  There were many and they were very sociable places with their pianos, dart games and what have you.  There were also other social places where the guys could go to like 'Sally Ann's' - those places run by the Salvation Army.  They were probably the best and I think they were revered by all.  The Knights of Columbus also ran many welcoming hostels.  The Church of Scotland must also be mentioned here.  Another thing, especially in London, servicemen could get a transportation ticket for a Shilling and you just stuck it in your cap and you could ride all day for that money on either the famous 'Underground' which was something!  Or, you could ride on the buses on the streets.  The Underground marveled me - those large trains and huge terminals both above and hundreds of feet below London.  They were so fast and efficient.  At nights they became home for thousands of Londoners who had been bombed out of house and home.  They would come there about midnight with their blankets and a few things, when the trains quit running and they would have to be out at 6 in the morning when activity began.  It was pitiful but at least they had shelter from the elements and possible further bombing.  You would see them come down and sit on their bundles until the last train - then they would bed down for the  night come what may.  

Dance Hall in London

The dance halls were great places with all types of dancing.  Tunes that were famous at that time were such ones as, Anniversary Waltz; Pennsylvania Polka; Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree;  I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire; Cuddle Up; Mairsi Dotes; I'll Be Seeing You; This is The Army; and many, many others.  Deep in the Heart of Texas was another favourite;  Long, Long Ago & Far Away; My Buddy; Dearly Beloved; Six Pence; Yours - more titles that were very popular in those years.  Popular picture shows of those days were such as 'Mrs. Miniver' with Walter Pigeon & Greer Garson - the story of the rescue of British troops from Dunkirk; 'This is the Army' with James Cagney was a good one; 'Stage Door Canteen'  was another as was 'Rhapsody in Blue'.  'Gershwin's Story' was a fine picture but one I can never forget was 'Casablanca' with Humphrey Bogart.  Who could EVER forget that one?!  Some other memorable shows of that time were 'Waterloo Bridge with Robert Taylor; 'Sweet Rosie O'Grady' with Betty Grable - the gal with the legs;  then of course there was 'White Christmas' with Bing Crosby.  If anyone was inclined to get homesick, it would occur upon listening to THAT song.  It will be a Christmas song forever.  When I first heard 'White Christmas', it was November of 1942 and I was in a barracks in Scampton in Lincolnshire - an unforgettable moment.  One could also never forget 'Elmer's Tune'.  It was on every jukebox in the contry.  Then there was the unforgettable  song 'Lili Marlene' which was stolen from the Germans by the Eighth Army in Africa.

Spitfire

Planes - I worked on quite a few different aircraft but the one that I liked the best of all in appearance was, of course, the famed Spitfire.  It was a trim, fast, highly maneuverable machine with lots of power.  Then there was the Canadian built Mosquito.  It was a fast, trim fighter-bomber and certainly was one of the more efficient aircraft of the time.  I worked on several bombers as well.  There was the Lancaster which was a British super bomber with 4 engines and lots of armament.  It carried the larges of bombs - the so-called 'Blockbusters'.  Then there were the Halifax's - another British bomber.  We did on occasion work on American machines as well -  in particular being the Liberator, the Fort, and the Super-Fort.  They were certainly great planes for their job of destruction.  I had a stint at working on an Air-Sea rescue station and the planes they used there were Warwicks - a version of the British Wellingtons - another such bomber.  We also worked on the patrol craft, the British Sunderland and the American Catalina.  The Sunderland was the much larger flying boat.  These were the planes we were supposed to work on as I was a part of the Coastal Command.  I was on a Canadian Beaufighter squadron as well but I never worked on any of them.  American aircraft were much more 'finished', classie-looking than the British probably, like my old friend George used to say, "She's British - she's built to last".  This was especially noted in our radar equipment when we found that the British units were more crude, but probably more durable.  Anyway, British or American, they were all built to do the job and, as witnessed, they did the job.

Speaking of Britain, today in Canada (*this was at the time of Dad's writing this), there is a tendency for those in power to downgrade old Britain or anything that smacks of England, but during those war years, Britain was a haven for every son of the planet.  Those persons who were from Europe, France or wherever - when they got under the Union Jack thought that they had reached heaven and all were treated well and equal though the British themselves were hard pressed for food, fuel, clothing and everything else.  They were host to thousands of tropps and such a small island!  You could walk down a street in London or get on the subway and you would see pretty near every nationality on this earth - some in native dress, Sikhs, Free French from France, Chinese, Turks, Norwegian servicemen, East Indians, Native Canadians in service, and basically every race, creed, and colour all mixing in the streets, in pubs, in dance halls and all getting along together very well.  I never saw a fight all the time I was over there even though there was lots of drinking.    

I don't there there is anything in civilian life to equal the comradeship experienced in the service.  Everyone was equal and supportive of one another.