In April 1944, I went to my first RCAF squadron. I was in three different squadrons.  The first one was the Lion Squadron, number 427, a Canadian squadron. Our barracks were in Skelfield manor house which had been turned into a private school and then taken over by the RAF during the war. It was a large estate at the back of the base. It was quite impressive quarters! The house had big fireplaces in each bedroom to heat the house. The gardens were landscaped with statues of lions and other animals. There was even a swimming pool on the grounds. With the 427 Lion Squadron, I did about three or four operations. I did the French operation around D-Day time.

I had a life pass to the movies because my first squadron was sponsored by Metro-Goldwyn Mayer. They gave us a life pass – a little red badge – a pass for the movies; anywhere that MGM had a movie. I don’t know if I ever got to use it in London; if they had any movies when I was on leave.

When I was in the Lion Squadron I met King George VI and Princess Elizabeth. The King was flying back from India and Princess Elizabeth, who was a lorry driver, came from London to greet her father. When the King stepped off the aircraft they had a big red carpet running out. I was a squadron marker; I had to stand there before everyone lined up, eh? I was at ease of course when they were putting the carpet down and then the King came down the steps of the airplane. The wind was blowing and the Princess was off to the right of the aircraft and saw him come down. He got to the carpet and started to walk and I guess the wind blew the carpet against his legs and the carpet rolled up. Out of the corner of my eye, I was looking at the Princess with a big grin on her face to see her father walking along the carpet which was blowing up behind him.

We then went into the intelligence room of the base to show them what was going on. The King and the Princess interviewed me and my friend Pete Wilsher (a friend from Dorval). I remember the Princess said to me, something like – you’re rather tall to be a gunner. I told her I was in the minority, but there were a few other tall gunners.

All Canadian squadrons were based in Yorkshire. I was transferred later from the Lion Squadron. My original crew from that squadron were all killed.

I had been called back to a training unit in Topcliffe, England over a misunderstanding about the checking out of a harness that I used while I had been there. After our training in Topcliffe, one of the other crew offered to bring the harness back inside for me, then we were going by truck back to our squadron. The guard at the gate told me the harness hadn’t been checked in yet. So I told him what happened; it must’ve been put back in the wrong locker. I gave him a quid, so he could find the harness and let me get on the truck. I didn’t want to be stuck there! Later on, I was called back to Topcliffe because I was being court marshalled because of a bribery charge over the same incident with the harness! A woman who worked in the base office had seen the whole thing and said it was a bribe. In the end, at the court marshal, she couldn’t identify me, so the charges were dropped.

So I got separated from my crew. While I was gone there was a man who replaced me as a rear gunner. When I got back to the squadron he didn’t want to leave. He said – no, I’m happy with this squadron, with this group. I didn’t put up an argument. My best friend said – sorry you’re not coming back!

Didn’t they go out for a trip and they were all killed! One of the crew was Johnny Williamson, the one I talked about earlier when we had to find our way back to base from the Midlands. He was mid-upper gunner, he and I were part of only a few who were really tall to be gunners. Johnny’s name is in the newspaper clipping “Quebecers Graduate as Wags”, even though he was from New Brunswick.

Charlie waited a long time before he told me about the close encounter with being court marshalled. With a bit of internet research, I found out that a lot of Canadians were brought to court marshal or came very close to being court marshalled. These were young men who in times of peace would not have joined the armed forces. Young men can get up to pranks, like the story of two brothers who stole a chicken. Food supply in Great Britain was very serious because no food was able to be shipped by sea. Luckily for the brothers, their Company Commander stuck up for them by reminding the British that Canadians were doing a lot to help in the war. Sending them home would not help the war effort at all. There are other stories about Canadians not being in proper uniform, according to RAF officers – one Canadian wasn’t wearing his gloves! Another Canadian told his tale of washing his uniform; while waiting for it to dry he went to a nearby pub in his civilian clothes. An officer saw him out of uniform and complained. The RAF officers were often career military and seemed to have a hard time coping with what they considered to be lax, colonial Canadians.

My friend George was on his fifth operation when he crashed; I didn’t know till 1945 that George had survived. Some airmen had their accidents on their first operation. Others didn’t reach that point – some fellows I knew from the west end of Montreal; they were killed at Topcliffe on the training unit I was on.

We crashed there but some survived. We were on Wellington bombers at that time. We lost Frank Grey, I think and Dawson. The Dawson family of Montreal, they were a printing company. Ricky Dawson went to school with me and he was killed in training at Topcliffe.

For a few weeks or so my duty was to escort those who went to be court marshalled. At one point – I remember the Commander – he said – well, you can fly or not fly. I said, listen I’m over here as a gunner, to fly! I don’t care who I fly with, you know, I’ll fly as a spare with anybody. I’ll get my operations in – my thirty trips in. You know some were fussy about – you get one pilot and crew, it’s like a team; like a hockey team. If I joined Canadians and a year later they traded me to Detroit or Boston, okay!

Then I went to 419, the Moose Squadron. That was at the base in Middleton, St. George. I was replacing a chap there who had bailed out; they were damaged. When the skipper says prepare to bail out, you just get ready, but this fellow misunderstood and jumped. He jumped from his tail turret into France, but he was okay. So I came along and that’s why I replaced him. He found his way back to the squadron, we were still operating but they didn’t use him anymore, because I had taken his place. I saw him around the squadron; I was sitting with our group and he came along and started kidding. I don’t think he got in trouble for bailing out; he may have behind the scenes, but none of us heard any more about it. He wasn’t even in official uniform; he put something gold on his hat – what the hell! It didn’t look like it was legal. You had to be very careful about the uniform.

The rest of the crew in the Moose Squadron finished their tour because they were already advanced, so I was transferred to the Ghost Squadron. Ghost Squadron was No. 428 Squadron. That was my last squadron, my last trip, twenty-nine and a half trips! On February 2, 1945, we went down over Wiesbaden, Germany.

We were taught, through intelligence training to be aware of a number of things; for instance not to carry money. I carried it – but I was very careful when I was shot down. I buried my life pass to MGM theatre. I took my money and I thought this is tough ‘cause I’m pretty tight with a buck. I had to throw all these pound notes in a little package. I threw it deep in the snow away from where I was. I wrapped it up in some little paper I had in my pocket.  I knew that when I was captured they would take everything out of my pockets. They checked, so I had nothing to identify, except that I was RCAF, I had a Canada badge, and I gave name, rank and number.

I was ninety-nine days a prisoner. So, it was a little over three months, from the time they captured me.

Naming the Canadian Squadrons during the Second World War was not a unique idea. It had been done before for Commonwealth nations who were under the control of the British Royal Air Force.

In 1943, the Canadian No. 6 Bomber Group was formed. By 1945, we had forty-eight RCAF squadrons, sponsored and supported by Canadian groups or communities.

When Charlie was old enough to join, he went overseas when the RCAF had established itself. After just mentioning that Canadian squadrons were sponsored by Canadians, Charlie’s first squadron, the Lion, was the exception. RCAF’s public relations headquarters appealed to Metro-Goldwyn Mayer to sponsor the 427 Squadron. The benefits would be for the Canadians to be entertained by Hollywood stars, which up till then only entertained the American troops. Each RCAF aircraft was adopted by a movie star. The mascot was a bronze lion statue and each and every member was given a lifetime movie pass.

According to records of MGM’s sponsorship, the movie pass was a “small bronze medallion on a leather thong”. The Lion Squadron was honoured to have MGM sponsor them; even if it was a publicity coup for the movie company. During the war, the movie theatres, CBC Radio and the Wings Abroad publication provided information to the Canadian public about what was happening so far away. It must’ve pleased Canadians to have such sponsorship and helped to grab the imagination in a better way than all the doom and gloom news.

Charlie was transferred from the Lion to the Moose squadron. All of the named squadrons had their own special reasons for the name. The Moose Squadron was the only one named after their leader. Wing Commander John Fulton of Kamloops, British Columbia, nicknamed, ‘the Moose’ was an RAF veteran. He had joined the RAF in 1935. In his mid-twenties, he was appointed the commander of the new 419 Canadian squadron.

There are leaders who lead by discipline and feel they stand above the rest. Happily, there are also leaders like John, ‘the Moose’, Fulton. By all accounts, he was popular and intelligent, and everyone would gladly do anything he wanted. Unofficially the squadron named themselves the Moose Squadron and the members were ‘moose men’. The Mayor of London, senior members of the RCAF and other B.C. units honoured WC Moose Fulton and his squadron. Kamloops, B.C. adopted them; which meant that they were the sponsors for the Moose Squadron.

Unfortunately, Wing Commander Fulton and crew went missing shortly after the party in their honour. On an operation to Hamburg, in foul weather, Fulton’s plane was attacked by a night fighter. A search party went out the next day but there was no sign of the airplane. It was a sad day for the Moose Squadron.

Charlie’s third and last squadron was No. 428, the Ghost Squadron. When other squadrons were taking on identities, this group at first called themselves, ‘The Nameless’ Squadron. There’s no explanation why they felt they were nameless by they finally decided to call themselves the ‘Ghost Squadron’. The reason for the name was simple – night bombing was what Canadians were well known for; the squadron appeared like a ghost in the air and then disappeared back to base.

The 408 Squadron, ‘Goose’ was the first to submit a request for a heraldic squadron badge to the Chester Herald; the official office for military heraldry. The request and design then had to be approved by the King. Oddly enough, this was one protocol that the Canadians didn’t mind going through. Being part of a large, British run war machine was made more individual and Canadian. The RCAF overseas became known as the ‘flying menagerie’.

I had to spend a lot of time developing night vision. We had to be able to recognize planes on a screen in a dark room – they’d be very vague, eh?  You’d spend hours training like that.  Another course we took was aircraft recognition. We’d take it in daylight and we’d take it in the dark; to recognize what kind of plane was coming in – if it was one of our own or the others.  It was mostly the others. We’d go in escorted by fighters so we knew it was a fighter plane; we knew the Messerchmitt when we saw one. The Messerschmitt was the biggest of the German fighters; they had a number of fighters.   

At ground school, we’d shoot at drones dragged by another small plane, antiquated equipment!  At the same time, I had to wear a helmet, hooked up with earphones.   

We were taught to go in the pitch-black night in our bombers.  We very seldom fought fighters – if we saw a fighter we were taught to do evasive action.  If I fired every time I saw a fighter somewhere in the sky we’d give away our position and become tracer bullets, eh? It lights up – so if you go and shoot a fighter, another fighter might be up above you and see you bullets; in the dark, he’d know where you were. Our practice was – the tail gunner or mid-upper gunner – if we spotted a fighter coming in and they got to a certain range, I forget the exact range we’d have our little range finder; we’d tell the skipper to dive to starboard or port; he’d dip that big wing.  We’d drop the wings and dive, evasive action. You couldn’t do that I don’t think on a B17, but our bombers – zoom!  If the fighter was coming too fast we would move down, he’d shoot, but we’d be gone already.  He’d be looking for somebody else to shoot down because we’d be gone. So that was what they called evasive action.  My gosh!  I haven’t used those terms in fifty or sixty years! 

U.K. historian, Rob Davis found a good description of the R.A.F. evasive action in more detail:
“The .303 inch (7.9mm) calibre machine guns of the R.A.F. air-gunners were outgunned by the 20mm and 30mm cannon carried by the Luftwaffe – but the R.A.F. air-gunners would not open fire unless attacked by a night-fighter; their guns were defensive. Although the .303’s rate of fire was 12 rounds per second, and its effective range reckoned to be 400 yards, at night if within visible range, the night-fighters were also within range of the .303s.

Mid-upper and rear-gunners were isolated from their crewmates except via intercom and had to stay alert for long periods in subzero temperatures. Their fields of fire overlapped somewhat; the mid-upper could rotate through 360 degrees. Helped to some extent by the Taylor combined electrically-heated suit and Mae West lifejacket, as well as heated mittens and gloves, their alertness was vital. They could call for a corkscrew (violent evasive action) at a moment’s notice. The trick was to take evasive action inside the attacking curve of the fighter, forcing him to steepen his turn in order to be able to shoot into the space where the bomber was expected to be by the time the bullets and shells arrived. The corkscrew manoeuvre was so described because when viewed from directly astern, the pattern created by the bomber was corkscrew-shaped. Dive port, climb port, roll, dive starboard, climb starboard, roll…and good air-gunners, knowing what was happening next, could fire into the space where they expected the night-fighter to be.

Few night fighter crews persevered with an attack after the bomber had spotted them, and fewer still night fighter pilots had the skill to stay with a corkscrewing bomber and shoot it down as they danced together. A determined and experienced bomber pilot could make the evasive manoeuvre so violent that rivets popped out of the aircraft. Aircraft were actually only borrowed by the aircrew; the aeroplane “belonged” to its ground crew”.”

Quote from: Royal Air Force (RAF) Bomber Command 1939-1945, viewed Feb. 2015

I don’t remember much about travelling around to the different training units in Canada.  I suppose we travelled by train.  No. 3 Bombing and Gunnery School in Manitoba was the last training centre I went to. From there we went on leave to spend time with our families; to say goodbye before going overseas, to war. 

When they finally sent me overseas; I was first shipped to Halifax.  We arrived in Halifax on a dark night and under the cover of darkness they put us on a train.  Everyone thought – what the heck is going on here?  We expected to get on a ship.  By train they sent us to Camp Myles Standish on the American coast, I believe it was in Massachusetts, I’m not too sure. We stayed overnight, and the next day we were moved to New York where they put us on the Queen Mary! 

So here we were on the Queen Mary and there were other ships as well, the Normandie, (later named the USS Lafayette) and the RMS Queen Elizabeth, full of troops.  Those were three of the biggest touring ships.  Glamorous!  Luxurious cabins, huge dining rooms – here we were!  The cabins were built for two people; we piled in fourteen or fifteen guys.  When they found out I was a gunner, I still have a badge – a white badge; I was able to go upstairs because they put me in charge of a big sixteen-pounder – a great big gun to fend off the U-Boats. 

They (the cruise ships) zigzagged – they took about ten days normally and they zigzagged.  They’re too fast for submarines.  The U-Boats liked to pick on the slow freighters. 

We had thirteen thousand on the Queen Mary if I recall.  When we got to the other side we were short four or five fellows.  The Americans had crap games running.  In the crap games, when they didn’t like someone they threw him overboard.  Ya, we were four or five short, I guess out of thirteen thousand that’s not bad!  The fellows that were lost; they weren’t too happy.  The navy and the merchant marine were escorting and protecting us; they had to pick up the lost fellows.

Charlie didn’t leave for oversees from Halifax probably because the city and the port were already full to capacity.

I lived in Victoria, B.C. in the 1980s and it was a stop for American warships. The downtown area would suddenly be packed with American sailors. They did the local economy some good but it was difficult to get into restaurants, stores and bars, sailors were everywhere! That gives me an idea of what Halifax was like during the war, except that the port was full and the city was inundated with troops waiting to go overseas. Instead of seeing it as a difficult time the people who lived there did their best to be friendly and helpful.

The CBC has a very good short doc on Halifax during the war. CBC Player, Dancing Was My Duty

The cruise ships, Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth had been refitted to carry troops but were still quite glamorous as troop carriers.

The French cruise ship, Normandie, had been seized by the U.S. when it docked in New York on September 3, 1939. It’s unclear if it was ever used as a troop carrier. Renamed, the USS Lafayette, the U.S. were in the process of converting it to a carrier. On February 9, 1942, it caught fire and turned on its side.  

The ship to Great Britain was packed stem to stern with members of most branches of the armed forces, Canadian and American. 

When the ship docked at Bournemouth, which was the central depot for arrivals; the various personnel were sent off to their new bases. Charlie ended up at an airbase in Yorkshire in the RCAF’s 427 Lion Squadron. 

According to Pierre Berton’s “Marching as to War – Canada’s Turbulent Years”, Prime Minister Mackenzie King wanted the RCAF to have our own squadrons instead of getting lost among the RAF. There were a large number of Canadians fighting the war in all branches of the forces from the onset. Yet, they were largely unsung heroes, far from home. The RAF, along with the British Navy and Army had a long history of career officers from the upper classes who had been less than keen on mingling with colonials. History did repeat itself. By the Second World War, it was often difficult to distinguish just who the enemy was when the British seemed more focused on putting the Canadians in their place instead of fighting in the real war. 

The Royal Canadian Air Force was reshaped after much discussion between politicians. The RCAF was already in Great Britain but it became more cohesive in 1943 as the No. 6 Group; twelve of which were bomber squadrons based in England. There were some success stories of Canadians who stayed in the British Royal Air Force throughout the war, like Charlie’s brother Norbert. 

When I was in Britain, as part of my training, I took a British Commando course.  The course was in Sherwood Forest.  It struck me because when I was a youngster it was Robin Hood, Friar Tuck and the boys, and here we were!  If I recall it was near Ossington, you see it comes back!  Commando training was about how to survive; I really liked that course!  I often think I should’ve been in the army instead of sitting at the back end of a plane.  

During the course, they taught us how to crawl on the ground as soldiers do.  I found it easy, anyone into sports had already done that one in sports training, but some guys found it difficult.  We also had to learn how to sneak up on someone and use wire around the neck as a garrotte. There was also grenade training; we already had weapons training.  Commandos and spies had to learn a lot more than that, like shooting from the hip or shoulder, placing bombs to blow up bridges, stalking, camouflage; probably with burnt cork rubbed onto the face.  They also had boxing and unarmed fighting, but we had already covered that.  In Manitoba we had a big guy who trained us boxing and self-defence; I think he was a football player, he was huge! 

We didn’t have to do navigation, we were already taught that.  At St. Jean, Quebec, we had to be able to recognize lakes and streams from the air for visual navigation.  At Kingston, we were taught star navigation.  I did carry a compass, which I kept in my boot, it was supposed to be carried in an upper pocket.  In 1945, I lost my compass; it must’ve fallen out of my boot when I was upside down in the air.  I wore a scarf map but don’t remember ever using it. 

Part of the survival course was to learn how to get back to base. They dropped us off somewhere in England, in the Midlands, about thirty miles away and told us to make our way back. The idea was to travel through wooded areas and live by our wits. The citizens of the towns along the way were told to look out for us. They were advised not to help us and to report us if we were seen. I was with my friend Johnny Williamson. He looked like a football player. I would’ve liked to be his size, since I played a lot of sports, but I was a skinny, wiry guy. Johnny had wide shoulders and looked a lot like Clark Gable. Actually, Clark Gable was on another squadron nearby.

Johnny didn’t like exercise and wasn’t into sports. So as soon as it was dark we headed into the nearest town. Nobody noticed us. We found a pool hall that was closed; so we broke in and went to sleep on a couple of the pool tables. Some men came in, in the middle of the night and woke us up. They told us we were caught so we had to give them our names and numbers. So I said I was Sgt. Joe Smith and my number was R20719. Big John was sound asleep on the other table. They woke him up, though I realized he must’ve heard the whole thing because he gave a fake name and number as well.

They let us go, so we made our way to the railway station. We didn’t have any tickets but we got on the train anyway; I don’t know how we got away with it. We went for a number of miles back to the camp. When we got off there was a man with a truck who gave us a lift right to the camp gates. We hardly had to walk at all; maybe a mile in between. It was supposed to be about survival. We were told we were the first ones back.

So here we were sitting on our cots waiting for the rest of them – they showed up a couple of days later. Most of the guys had gone through the woods, got lost, and were probably starving. I thought – what the hell – Johnny is a buddy of mine, he doesn’t like exercise, so I couldn’t just leave him alone; he’d probably get lost.   

Camp X in Ontario taught spies the same techniques that commandos had to know.  Among other assignments these spies or operatives often had to go to Europe to rescue crews from downed allied planes and bring them back to safety; usually with the aid of the French underground operatives.  A really good book about Camp X and spies and operatives in WWII is: “Camp X: Canada’s School for the Art of Secret War”, by David Stafford, 1986. 

In Great Britain during the war, commando training was done in different regions, according to different terrain. The elite training camp was at Achnacarry Castle in Scotland for all allied countries. The British commandos today are the Royal Marines; they joined the army commandos in 1942.

My favourite military band is the Royal Marines. Take a look at: https://youtu.be/popbL1JuGqM

Did you know? The RAF’s nickname for all rear-gunners was “arse end Charlie”

This is a tale of the Lion, The Moose, and the Ghost; an unlikely trio who battled the forces of evil. In the midst of all three is a young man.  He’s tall and athletic, young and foolish (his words, not mine) and guarded by angels.   

The royal lion introduced the young man to a King and his daughter, the Princess.  The stately moose carried him safely to and from faraway lands.  The ghost soared with him to the heavens only to send him spiralling back down to earth into a perilous adventure. 

There was a legend among WWII Royal Canadian Air Force veterans that no one from the RCAF’s Ghost Squadron ever returned.  I know of at least one survivor. 

The following is a record of World War Two memories of a man named Charles Roche.  You don’t know who he is because he’s not famous, but he was part of a huge number of young Canadians who went to war in the nineteen-forties.   

I taped hours of monologue and then wrote everything down almost word for word.  Charlie is an interesting person who loves to talk.  I did a little bit of editing, but I wanted to keep Charlie’s voice.  Then I had the tremendous task of arranging everything into a timeline and doing research to double-check some things.  Archives about World War Two are now open to the public.  Looking into German archives is almost overwhelming.  The Nazis were great at keeping records and photographs, quite amazing, and sad.  What I studied in history class didn’t even come close to the awful reality of the war. 

Charlie was in the Royal Canadian Air Force and his older brother Norbert was in the British Royal Air Force. He joined early in the war before the RCAF got involved therefore Norbert has an extensive war record, but this is Charlie’s project, so I won’t be mentioning Norbert very often.  

The writing that is in Italics is Charlie talking.  The comments and other writing are mine.  

In The Beginning 

I never had an education, just high school because of the war.  I was there for four years when I should’ve been at University.  That was my education – the war!  It helps to be young and stupid; it was the only way I got through the war and adjusted to being home again.  I tried to forget about the four years of war; I didn’t want to talk about it.  I never told anybody where I was or what happened, even my family heard only bits and pieces, never the whole thing.  Now, since my eighties, it’s funny, but that’s all I want to talk about. 

I might have gone into the army – I had a choice.  I headed down to Bishop street in Montreal and joined the air force, The Royal Canadian Air Force, not the Royal Air Force.  This was late in 1942, I was eighteen years old.  Another fellow I used to know, I played golf with him; we both joined at the same time.  I don’t know where he ended up, but that’s how I joined the air force.  My parents waited for my brother to return from Great Britain after his tour of operations. Before I even went over – my dad – I didn’t even know that then – but my dad wrote a letter to a Member of Parliament.  So they delayed me a couple of months!  I wondered what it was at the beginning.  My brother returned home and then they took me in.  I was already registered but they put me off for a couple of months.  My dad didn’t want to lose two, but my brother wasn’t finished.  My dad thought at least, let one return.  He returned and I went off to war.  

See some colourized images of Montreal in the 1940″s: https://youtu.be/lnL6ZfeptqU

By nineteen forty-two there were a lot of families in my neighbourhood who had lost family members to the war.  Right next door to us there was a house painter who was German, and he insisted on telling everyone that he supported the Nazis.  The RCMP came out to talk to him but nothing was done.  I don’t understand why they never did anything about him.  Right behind the German’s house was my friend Pete’s home.  When I came home from war, I knew by then that Pete was killed in the war.  He had been on the Lion Squadron at the same time as me and then he was transferred into the Pathfinder Group.  Across the street from us was an RCAF navigator, Bill; he was killed.  We were surrounded by people in the air force and army.  On the next street over was Turcotte, he had been killed in the army and Gagnon as well, he had lived just up the street from us. 

According to my mother’s lifelong friend, Joyce Walker, life during the war in Lachine and Dorval, Quebec was very exciting for young children.  Lachine had planes flying in and out of the region.  Sometimes the airplanes dropped leaflets advertising War Bonds and children would run after the leaflets on the street trying to collect as many as possible.  Then they would save their allowances to buy War Bonds or War Saving Stamps.  Sunday mass would bring in young men, usually air force from all over the world.  Families would invite the aviators for Sunday dinner, realizing that they were far from their own families. 

Canada had to supply food for our troops. Canadians had to make do with whatever they were allowed to buy. Companies like Quaker Oats, among others, gave Canadians recipes to try for tasty, economic meals. One recipe that I still use today came from my Grandmother. She probably used it before the war, during the depression. Here is her recipe which has been updated to use things that might not have been available during the war:

Meatloaf Recipe: 1.5 lbs or 0.680389 kg ground beef, 3/4 cups Quaker Oats, 1/2 tsp. salt, 1/4 tsp. pepper, 1/2 cup chopped onions, 1 egg beaten, 3/4 cup milk, Topping: 1/3 cup catsup, 1 tbs firmly packed brown sugar, 1 tbs prepared mustard. Form individual loaves or 1 large loaf and bake at 350 F for 35 minutes. If you only have packets of flavoured Quaker Oats, it still works, adding the flavouring. I double the amounts for the topping since the topping sinks into the meat.

Swing dancing was popular in the 1940s, it looked so energetic and fun enough to take away worries for a little while. I found a swing dance compilation that looks like it shows the 1940’s and early 1950’s. It’s fun to watch! https://youtu.be/mHANNkKBSNU

Canadian women joined the RCAF as well. A blogger named Elinor Florence has an interesting blog about women in the RCAF. https://www.elinorflorence.com/blog/rcaf-women/

Dorval airport was part of the RAF Ferry Command, moving aircraft to the UK for war service. 

A Montreal company, Canadian Vickers Ltd. built airplanes.  Rolls Royce opened a factory nearby to manufacture airplane engines. All this activity in the Lachine, Dorval area was part of the British Commonwealth Air Training Program. 

Charlie’s first training, basic training was at the No. 5 Manning Depot in Lachine.  Basic training means indoctrination into the armed force’s way of life.  Can you imagine so many young men and women who never would’ve joined the armed forces in normal times, suddenly having to follow military rules?  Living in barracks with people always around you, doing chores, including making your cot every day in a specific way. Following orders, without complaint, knowing and understanding military hierarchy, proper uniforms right down to making sure your boots are shined.  Then there are the basics in marching, saluting, addressing various personnel.  Most of all making sure the recruits understand that they can’t wander off when they feel like it; they are now tethered to the military and the consequences of not following the rules can be severe.

 Charlie said that during the winter at the Manning Depot in Lachine, the recruits were sent out to shovel walkways of some Lachine homes.  He went to his aunt and uncle’s home to help them dig their way out of the snow. His uncle did his part for the war effort by being a volunteer in the home guard in Lachine.  He didn’t wear a special uniform or a helmet, just an armband to signify why he was out and about in the evening on patrol.  There was even a sentry posted at the Lachine canal.  The German U-Boats had caused trouble in Canadian waters so entry by land, sea, and air had to be protected just in case.  

My grandmother told me that in Lachine in the nineteen-thirties there was a German engineer, a man who lived alone in one of the flats on 32nd Avenue.  He worked at the Dominion Bridge Company in Lachine; which was a large engineering company owned by the British.  One night he disappeared.  It was just before Germany marched into Poland.  She said that at the cinema, not long after, on one of the newsreels this engineer was seen on film with Hitler.  He had already been the talk of the neighbourhood, a foreign man living alone in the working class, very Catholic, family orientated Lachine.  He became an infamous spy celebrity after that.  I couldn’t find any information about the rumour, perhaps if I had paid more attention to it when my grandmother was alive, I could’ve spoken to others from the neighbourhood.  A phone call to the RCMP was very frustrating!  Everybody else has opened the wartime files except for the RCMP.  Since they went to see Charlie’s German neighbour I was hoping for some documentation about the German engineer.  Alas, I was told the archives aren’t open to the public, even about the pre-war and war era. 

When I joined they gave me a medical and an assessment for what I could do in the air force. They said; oh boy–you’re playing hockey and sports–you’re what we’re looking for! When they tested my eyes, they said, good you’re farsighted. When I’m playing golf I can see who’s in front of me even if it’s a yard difference.

But when it comes to short-sightedness I have more trouble–so I would’ve had a big problem landing a plane by sight. In those days planes weren’t as sophisticated as today.

There were certain criteria for a pilot. As a child, I had to wear big glasses, but I threw them away all the time and I never wore them after that. But I always had to sit in the back of a theatre or a show – so in the air force since they discovered I was far-sighted they said you have a choice now – but mathematics wasn’t my favourite subject in school so they eliminated navigator – they are highly qualified – so I had a choice of bombardier or gunner – the bombardier is up in the front. So I asked them what’s the quickest training to get overseas? They said air gunner – my brother was a wireless air gunner but the training was a little longer because they had to know a lot about communications.

With us what they did as air gunner they sent us to Queens for navigation and some Morse code as a short course and then they shot us out to MacDonald Manitoba up near Portage La Prairie – we’d go to Winnipeg on occasion – in Manitoba that was for firing at drones – we’d go out and shoot down these drones that were being pulled by another plane with a pilot. We had to be careful not to shoot the other plane. We also had to learn how to shoot .38s and I liked the skeet shooting, we had to learn deflection shooting – I got to be pretty good – I got to like skeet shooting. So they trained me as a gunner.

Getting a blog noticed through search engines is complicated and competitive. That’s why I appreciate Mr. Clempson, President of the Royal Canadian Legion Branch 245 Dorval, Quebec. Mr. Clempson put the Ghost Flight link onto the Legion’s Facebook page. He is the first Legion to help get Ghost Flight known. Thank you!