I was told he was coming. John Watson arrived a few minutes before I began a presentation about a major Second World War story, last Wednesday night in Swift Current, Sask. Watson is a tall man. He wore a red jacket, a scarf, and had a twinkle in his eye as we shook hands.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Watson,” I said. “I understand you’re a veteran, that you served overseas in the last war with the Regina Rifles.”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “But don’t forget the ‘Royal’ part.”
“The Royal Regina Rifles,” I corrected myself, then added, “No doubt ‘Royal’ because of you.”
He laughed and said, “I was just a rifleman.” (more…)
The other day I spoke to a west-Toronto business group, but I learned as much as I informed that morning. Not surprisingly, during my talk about Canadians’ service in wartime, the subject of the Russian invasion of Ukraine came up. I remarked how very familiar Putin’s actions were to Hitler’s in the 1930s. Anyway, after my talk, a man from the audience approached me. He introduced himself. “Bo Sirota,” he said.
“Sounds Ukrainian,” I responded. And when he asked how I knew, I said I’d lived and worked in Alberta and Saskatchewan for a number of years and I knew a Ukrainian Canadian named Bohan. “Do you have family caught in the invasion?” I asked.
He nodded and described some of his relatives living in the village of Drohobych, on the outskirts of Lviv, Ukraine. (more…)
We rarely saw her. But we always saw her handiwork. She came to work at the college where I taught after we’d all left for the day. And when we arrived the next day to resume our tutorials, labs or classroom sessions with students, all those rooms were spick-and-span. Then, one evening when I happened to be working late, I met her – a member of Centennial College’s custodial staff – and I stopped to chat.
“Thanks for all the cleaning you do in our classrooms,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Just part of the job.”
“But we never see you. It’s nice to acknowledge what you do.”
“Yes, well, we’re kind of invisible,” she said. (more…)
Just northeast of Paris, France, lies a small wooded hill. The few acres of green have been peaceful for most of the last century. Aisne-Marne American Cemetery resides here. It’s home to the memorial stones of 2,289 war dead, mostly Americans. A few hundred yards down the hill, 102 years ago, a great battle raged here.
Near the start of it, French troops found themselves overwhelmed by a charging enemy. In March 1918, the German Army had launched its largest offensive, that it hoped would drive the Allies into the sea and deliver them victory in the Great War. On June 2, 1918, a retreating French soldier is alleged to have shouted to arriving U.S. troops:
“Withdraw! Withdraw! We are overrun!”
Historians tell us, in that moment, Lloyd Williams, a young Marine captain from Virginia, shouted back, “Retreat? Hell, we just got here!” (more…)
He took one last look. The transaction had transferred ownership of the property. The farm legally belonged to him now. But the old farmhouse had fallen into disrepair and would have to be demolished. So, Clarence Oancia made one last circuit around the house to see if there was anything worth salvaging. Then, Clarence remembered the attic, a loft in the top of the house, and thought he’d better check it too. He climbed the stairs, opened a closet door. And there it was.
“A World War II uniform jacket,” explained Bernie Wyatt, Clarence’s nephew. “[It was] in excellent condition.” (more…)
It seemed all the world came to Nanton, Alberta, on the August 24-25, 2018 weekend. This small southern Alberta town – home to about 2,000 people under normal circumstances – played host to a special late summer event. People travelled from across Canada and the U.S. to attend the 75th anniversary commemoration of Bomber Command’s famous Dam Buster raid of 1943.
“They breached the dams,” author Ted Barris said, “and turned the tide of the Second World War.”
HarperCollins publishers and author Ted Barris joined the Bomber Command Museum of Canada, at Nanton, in a pre-publication date launch of Dam Busters: Canadian Airmen and the Secret Raid Against Nazi Germany, Ted Barris’s 18th non-fiction book. The official publication date is Sept. 11, 2018.
In addition to regular patrons of the museum, event organizers managed to attract the members of families representing 16 of the 30 Canadians who participated in the famous raid on the Ruhr River dams on May 16-17, 1943.
In the Second World War, when Nazi Germany threatened the very existence of Britain, the Royal Air Force called on its military aviators, and thousands more from around the Commonwealth, to take the war to its enemies. Under Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Harris, Bomber Command often put a thousand aircraft per night in the air against Nazi targets. More than 55,000 aircrew died in those actions, 10,000 of them Canadians. Perhaps the most daring bombing attack happened after weeks of secret training of the Lancaster crews to conduct a low-level raid on the Möhne, Eder and Sorpe dams; the crews breached the first two dams, damaged the third, and crippled production in the Ruhr valley substantially. But the cost was dear; 53 of the 133 airmen died in the raid.
On Friday night, the BCMC hosted a meet-and-greet with just the 50-or-so members of the families of the Canadian airmen who participated in the raid. Nearly half of the 30 Canadians who flew from England that night, did not survive this hi-risk mission. Barris spoke to the families at the Friday social, applauding their commitment to come from so far to pay tribute to their fathers, uncles or grandfathers who’d served in Operation Chastise, which unleashed the famous bouncing bomb against the hydo-electirc dams of industrialized Nazi Germany.
That evening members of the BCMC Lancaster crew brought out their prized Ian Bazelgette Memorial Lanc (altered temporarily to show the markings of one of the Dam Buster bombers – AJ-M). The crew not only fired up the Lancs Merlin engines, but spun a replica Upkeep bouncing bomb in the Lancs belly complete with aldis-lamp attitude lamps, while 200 museum visitors watched.
On Saturday afternoon, Barris presented a 70-minute talk/presentation to walk the audience – about 700 visitors in the BCMC hangar – through the details of the dams raid, but more importantly to tell the stories of the Canadian airmen who took part. With a number of Air Force personnel in the audience as well, Barris made sure nobody left the room without knowing just how powerful the Canadian role in the attack had been; he mimicked a line in the 1955 movie The Dam Busters, in which a British RAF officer notes in preparation for the raid, “We mustn’t forget the English.”
Barris pointed out emphatically, “No. We mustn’t forget the Canadians!”
I drove into the museum parking lot last Saturday morning. Leaning over the tailgate of the pickup parked next to me, several guys in ball caps and jeans surveyed their precious cargo. I peered into the back box of the pickup, but I couldn’t recognize the rusty tangle of metal and wires as anything I’d ever seen before.
“Can you believe it?” one of the guys said. “We salvaged it from a ditch just this morning.” (more…)
As people often do, a colleague of mine sent me what he considered a joke by email, the other day. I read it and I didn’t laugh. It painted a scenario of an immigrant who, through odd circumstances, had a lot of dependents. Eventually, the man of Arabic background requests assistance from the government. The story concludes with this response:
“I’ve arranged to start mailing cheques … as soon as you arrive in Canada,” signed Justin Trudeau. (more…)