Much to praise America for

It’s just a small, rectangular piece of onion-skin paper. It was handed to us at the entrance to the exhibit, at the site of a national monument, actually. They also gave us a soft-lead pencil with the paper. It was up to us to find the information we wanted. And we did. Partway along a wall – several hundred yards long and four-feet high – containing the inscribed names of thousands and thousands of immigrants, we found the names we were looking for.

“Magdalene Kontozis Kontozoglu,” read one name, and below it, “Theodosios Kontozolglu.” (more…)

Luck is 33 eggs

F/O Bob Middleton wearing his navigator’s brevet (graduation wings) 1942.

It was kind of like the last breakfast for a condemned man. Whenever Canadian and other Second World War aircrew got word they were facing a tough bombing mission over enemy territory in Europe, the crews were invited to enjoy the most precious breakfast in all of Britain at that time.

“Bacon and eggs. You got bacon and eggs,” my veteran friend Bob Middleton told me on the weekend, “because you didn’t know if you’d be coming back.”

Those nights when Bomber Command aircrews boarded their Lancaster, Halifax, Whitley or Mosquito aircraft to fly most of the night over Nazi-occupied Europe, seem oh so long ago. (more…)

Don’t let COVID kill immigration

One of thousands of boats that brought refugees out of south-east Asia and to our doorstep.

The note came out of the blue. After retiring from Centennial College where I taught journalism and broadcasting for 18 years, I’ve only periodically run into former students. They’re the ones busily working as newspaper or radio reporters, videographers, editors, etc. Most of the time, I hear from the successful ones. Not from those struggling. Then, I got a note from a young woman named Farheen.

“I have been looking for positions to help me build my portfolio,” she wrote in her email to me. “But due to my lack of experience, I always fall short.” (more…)

You think you invented social media?

A British corporal from the front in Burma, with greetings for Joy.

A soldier with circular spectacles, corporal’s stripes on his sleeve and khaki shorts on, walks toward a stationary camera. He smiles as he acknowledges the commotion around him. Glasses clink. There’s a general hubbub of voices in friendly conversation. He’s in a military pub – circa 1940s – and stops in a kind of selfie-framing attitude and speaks right to camera.

“Hello, Joy. How’s this for a wartime miracle?” he begins. “And a novel way of saying, ‘I love you.’” (more…)

State of Statues

Down a country road, stands a stone marker, remembering Canadians in the Great War.

It stands about three feet tall. It looks like a stone pedestal, but it has no statue on it. It’s not located in an obvious public square or along a busy thoroughfare. It’s a war memorial, but it doesn’t glorify a victory, nor mourn a defeat, even though for Canadians it signifies tremendous loss.

When I’ve taken fellow Canadians there, I’ve always been struck by its simplicity, modesty and basic message. Its only identification is a brass plaque across one side of the pedestal with an inscription:

“Here, 8 May 1915, the ‘Originals’ of Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, commanded by their founder Maj. A. Hamilton Gault, DSO, held firm and counted not the cost,” is all it says. (more…)

Canadians and a Dame

Handshake with a Dame. London, 1995.

The occasion was our 20th wedding anniversary. As a gift to my wife Jayne and me, that spring of 1995, my parents had bestowed airfare to the U.K. We’d barely unpacked in London, when we saw on the news that one of our planned tourist destinations – Winston Churchill’s underground Cabinet War Rooms – was the to be visited by Dame Vera Lynn the next morning.

At a press conference, she’d be launching a fundraiser to assist needy veterans. Jayne and I decided to try to “accidentally” arrive there about the same time. I think we were first in line to tour the site the next morning.

“We understand that Dame Vera will be here,” I shared with the commissionaire at the ticket wicket.

“Oh, really?” the commissionaire kidded. “And who might you be?”

“Just a couple of curious Canadians,” I offered.

“Well, how appropriate. Today, Canadians get in free,” and he directed us – stunned but delighted – directly in. (more…)

With title comes responsibility

Gen. Eisenhower encourages U.S. airborne members on eve of D-Day, June 5, 1944.

Conditions gave him little cause for optimism. A large low-pressure weather cell had socked-in England and occupied France. Low clouds and high winds portended the worst circumstances for a crossing of the English Channel. The Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Forces commander chain-smoked his Camel cigarettes and shared stiff drinks with other SHAEF members at the back of the Red Lion public house in Southwick, England, waiting for better news.

It came on June 5, 1944. The rain let up. Winds abated. The Channel calmed. And Gen. Dwight Eisenhower reclaimed the element of surprise and unleashed “Operation Overlord” against Nazi-occupied Europe on June 6, 1944.

“You are about to embark upon a great crusade,” he wrote to Allied troops on the eve of D-Day. “The eyes of the world are upon you…” (more…)

A war hero who knew the limits of invincibility

Pilot Officer Albert Wallace wearing his air gunner’s brevet.

A boy who’d become a man by joining the Royal Canadian Air Force and graduating as an air gunner (second highest marks in his class), marched to the harbourfront in Halifax on a fall day in 1942. Albert Wallace boarded the ocean liner Queen Elizabeth – transformed by the war into a troopship – and prepared for the transatlantic crossing to Britain to join the Allied air war effort over Europe. He figured the Queen E couldn’t be hit by U-boat torpedoes. She was a lucky ship.

“I know luck,” he wrote in his diary that day, Oct. 27, 1942. “I’ll never forget the close call I had trying to stop my CCM (bike) by jamming my foot against the front tire. I ended up flying ass-over-teakettle over the handlebars onto the streetcar tracks (in Toronto).” (more…)

A life at sea in letters

John Birnie Dougall, a Canadian third mate aboard British merchant vessels. Jane Hutchison photo.

I never met John Birnie Dougall. But I came to know him this week, 79 years after his death. He spoke to me by way of his letters – letters he’d written as a Canadian merchant sailor keeping the supply of food, oil, munitions and hope flowing to Britain during the Second World War. As an example of his correspondence home, Dougall characterized the fate of Britain, in 1940, when it seemed Hitler’s U-boats would choke Britain’s shipping lanes to death:

“Even though England may be doomed,” he wrote in a letter to his mother Rachel, “each of us has fixed determination to do or die – a spirit that will not be beaten.” (more…)

Leadership in our darkest hour

Winston Churchill greets public with signature V-for-Victory signduring Second World War.

It’s come back to me often the past few weeks. It’s the last scene from the movie Darkest Hour. Winston Churchill, just a few weeks into his wartime administration in May 1940, watches across the English Channel as Belgium falls to the Nazis. Then, France falls. Desperately, he entreats thousands of private boat owners in England to retrieve retreating British Army troops – 300,000 of them – from the beaches of Dunkirk. And he contemplates Hitler’s invasion of Britain, delivering in the House of Commons one of many momentous wartime speeches:

“We shall fight on the beaches…” he proclaims. “We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be.” (more…)