Call of a fund and a friend

Gord Kidder, at the memorial to the 50 murdered Great Escape air officers, including his uncle.

Returning home from a recent tour of European battlefields with students, I opened my phone to clear a backlog of emails. There was the usual collection of greetings, ads and enticements. Then, a subject line caught my eye.

“Bring Gord Kidder home!” it said.

Because it had an advertisement feeling to it, I got irritated. Why was my friend Gord Kidder being used in some sort of pitch?

“While Gord Kidder was in Europe recently to take part in ceremonies to honour his uncle, who was a POW in WWII,” the content continued, “he suffered a cerebral haemorrhage…” (more…)

Deny. Delay. And die.

Ted Arnold instructed aircrew cadets for combat roles overseas in WWII.

The last time I spent time with Ted Arnold was in 1991. He had contacted me about his Second World War story. So, I travelled to Port Hope and interviewed him. We communicated again later in the year when he was holidaying in Florida. And while I thought of him often after that, I never actually saw him again. His son Rick contacted me some years later.

“We were wondering if you could help us?” he asked.

I said I would try and then Rick explained that his father had slipped through the cracks at Veterans Affairs Canada. Partly because he was born in Argentina, but mostly because he fell into an odd category as a veteran, the system had denied him veteran status, and therefore funds to cover the expenses at an assisted-living facility in Ontario.

“As you know,” Rick Arnold went on, “he’s not entitled to a veteran’s pension.” (more…)

Dam Buster – a hero grounded in humility

Fred Sutherland’s RCAF portrait.

They called him “Doc.” But Fred Sutherland told me that he didn’t know anything about medicine. Somebody who came to see Fred off at the train station, when he left to join the Air Force in 1941, decided because Fred’s dad was a family doctor in that part of Alberta, that the son ought to be nicknamed “Doc.”

“He called me ‘Doc,’” Fred told me, with some embarrassment in 2017. “So, it stuck. All through the war they called me that.” (more…)

NORAD Trophy ceremony

Author with L/Col. Dean Black and the 2018 NORAD Trophy at Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum. Photo Matthew Wocks.

Just as I finished a presentation, last week, my cellphone rang. The readout said, “Air Force.” It’s silly, but almost instinctively I straightened by back and my tie, as if duty were calling. It turned out to be a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel, Dean Black, who’s also the executive director of the Royal Canadian Air Force Association on the line. Not quite the Air Force, but, as it turned out, just as important.

“The RCAF Association has decided to recognize you and your new book with the NORAD Trophy,” Black said.

“I’m flattered,” I said, “but what’s the NORAD Trophy?” I knew that NORAD stood for North American Aerospace Defence Command and that the U.S. and Canada had formed it originally in 1957 when Cold War tensions between the Soviet Union and the West were at their highest, to ensure the protection of North America. (more…)

Details that made a difference

Dorothy Taylor holds  my book; she was  delighted to be recognized for her wartime service.

She’d sat pretty quietly a few rows in front of me – a woman with an intent look, a tailored leather jacket and a sparkle in her eye. Older than many in the room in Orillia where I spoke, her eyebrows responded continuously to my story – curving up when it was humorous, down when sad. When my talk was over, a man at the back of the room pointed out the very same woman and indicated she was his mother-in-law.

“She worked in war munitions in the Second World War,” he said, “but her most important work was in quality control at Victory Aviation.”

“You mean where they built the Lancaster bombers?” I asked.

“Ask her,” her son-in-law said. “And she’ll tell you she was in charge of rivets.” (more…)

Away from the spotlight of praise

Caring when nobody notices but the kid cared for.

I almost missed it. My daughter and I were up in the bleachers watching her son at a house league hockey practice. The six-year-olds were skating, falling, trying to stickhandle and the arena was bursting with noise. Then I spotted this one boy standing way off to the side, crying, wanting off the ice. One of the volunteer coaches skated over to him, got down on his knees and quickly connected with the boy in conversation.

The boy stopped crying. The coach’s face looked very encouraging and before long the boy was over the trauma and re-joined the practice. Nobody seemed to notice the exchange. It was low key, calming, but clearly motivational. And I thought of that quote by that U.S. national basketball coach from the 1970s.

“The true test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is looking,” John Wooden once said. (more…)

There is nothing like a Dame

RCAF vet Charley Fox leaning on one of his beloved Spitfires; but a day in 2006 nearly topped that.

A student pilot nearly killed him in a training accident in November 1942. While still an instructor in the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, during the Second World War here in Canada, he’d survived a head-on collision with another aircraft near Bagotville, Quebec. And overseas during combat operations flying Spitfires, RCAF airman Charley Fox also survived 234 combat sorties as a fighter pilot. And yet, it was a June evening in 2006, that Charley told me just about topped them all.

“Meeting Dame Vera Lynn,” Fox said, “was a highlight in my life.” (more…)

Lives in a salvaged suitcase

This briefcase-sized suitcase revealed a unique wartime correspondence story.
This briefcase-sized suitcase revealed a unique wartime correspondence story.

It’s one of the most compelling wartime stories I’ve ever encountered. And I almost missed it. There I was, up to my eyeballs in other stuff, when I got a call from two acquaintances. Jeremy Van Dyke organizes overseas travel tours and Frank Moore, a retired former banker, collects classic cars.

“Ted, we’ve got to meet,” Van Dyke said on the phone from Cambridge.

“I’m really busy,” I said.

“We’ve got a story you’ve got to tell,” Van Dyke insisted.

(more…)

Fewer settings at the table

Second World War RCAF Lancaster bomber crew.
Second World War RCAF Lancaster bomber crew.

When I got there, members of our organization, including myself, clustered the meeting chairs into a smaller grouping. It appeared there would be fewer people coming today. Indeed, the president pushed the lectern closer to the chairs since there wouldn’t be as large an audience.

“Not very many here today,” one man said.

“Getting worse too,” said another, noting the recent passing of a friend and regular member. (more…)

Rancher prisoner teacher and champ

Noreen and Art Hawtin pose with the sign identifying their ranch est. 1936
Noreen and Art Hawtin pose with the sign identifying their ranch est. 1936

One of rancher Art Hawtin’s closest friends, another rancher in Beaverton, Ont., told me that Art had two personalities. One personality Art exhibited around family and friends, when he was soft-spoken and easy-going. Then, whenever he herded his cattle, he exhibited the firmness and purpose required. When he moved cattle into pens or onto trucks, his friend said, Art seemed to be able to speak to the animals with his eyes and his body posture.

“It was as if the cattle figured that it was their job to get into the chutes or onto the truck,” Bob Robertson told me this week. “Art made them do whatever he wanted.” (more…)