大象传媒

At the end of the school year 1940-41, I entered the Lacombe Municipal Hospital and had the minor hernia operation performed, and was told that in a year the RCAF might take me. I completed another year of teaching at Poplar Forest School near Ponoka, applied to the Air Force and was immediately accepted and placed in potential aircrew category.
On August 19, 1942, I reported to Manning Pool in Edmonton, where Northlands is now located. Included in my memories of Manning Pool were endless hours of marching and drill, lots of physical training and a wide variety of 鈥渏oe jobs鈥�. One of these was at the hospital where new recruits were coming in for their 鈥渟hots鈥�. My job was to stand half way along the line between the door and the medical officer (MO) who was giving the needles. I was to watch for airmen who were about to faint, escort them to a bench and put their head between their knees until they recovered. Actually I was quite busy on this particular detail. I did learn, though, that the guy who was talking loud and bold was the one to watch; he was just talking a lot to build up his courage.
At Manning Pool were many Australian and New Zealand aircrew of sergeant rank who didn鈥檛 give a damn for anyone. Following a night when the Aussies had chopped a hole in the guardhouse wall with fire axes to release an Aussie prisoner and flew a pair of women鈥檚 panties on the flagpole, I and the rest of my flight was placed on 鈥渇lag pole watch鈥�. My partner and I had the watch from 1:00 to 3:00am. Sight of an Aussie or anyone else would have been welcome at that Godforsaken hour.
I can still remember the terrible snowstorm that struck in mid November of 1942. There had to be at least two feet of snow which fell in a real blizzard and nothing moved. Three trucks, each with about twenty men, equipped with shovels, undertook to go to downtown Edmonton for mail and supplies. We started at 8:00am and managed by a great deal of shovelling and pushing to make it back to base by 6:00pm and a late supper.
Reaction to the 鈥渄own unders鈥�, that is, the Australians and New Zealanders, to this new environment was incredulous and who could blame them? It was the first snow they had ever seen. They literally revelled and rolled in it just like kids, and few corporals and sergeants escaped the snowball treatment at their hands. However by spring, I鈥檓 sure, they were as sick and tired of it all as we native Canadians were.
Early in December, ours and two other flights were posted to No 7 S.F.T.S. (Service Flying Training School) at Macleod, Alberta for 鈥渢armac duty). At this station, training pilots were getting their first taste of flying twin engine planes. The old reliable yellow Anson, which practically flew itself, was the plane being used.
One of my jobs consisted of guiding planes as they were being towed by tractors, or as they were being taxied slowly under their own power. One day a plane I was guiding almost had it鈥檚 complete tail section cut off, and I had to jump clear myself, when a taxiing plane made a sharp turn opposite us. Imediatel the plane was crawling with S.P. (Service Police) and we were warned that we would spend the rest of our natural lives paying for the damage. Guiding members of each crew were isolated and told to write a report in their own words, an account of what had happened. Mine must have sounded logical, because after worrying for a couple of weeks, I heard no more about it.
While at the Macleod Station, we raw rookies sometimes found ourselves the victims of tricks played by corporals and sergeants in the various sections to which we had been assigned. One might find himself being sent all the way to Hangar 6 to borrow a left handed monkey wrench, while somebody else would be sent to the Repair Section for a gallon of 鈥減rop wash鈥�. Everyone would get a big laugh, and probably in a few months the victims would be pulling the same tricks on other 鈥渁cey deucies鈥�.
It was at Macleod that I had my first flight. I flew with a young student pilot to Granum, a satellite station of Macleod, about twenty miles away. He was on an instrument flying exercise, so was unable to see out because of dark curtains. This worried me a bit, but needless to say I really enjoyed it, and reasoned that if I was to be in the services, I was glad it was the Air Force.
I did make several more flights as a passenger while at Macleod and one pilot gave me quite a thrill when he flew at very low level and chased antelope all over the foothills. Actually I was not too impressed, as I couldn鈥檛 help but feel sorry for the poor guiltless animals.
Macleod had a reputation for the strongest Chinook winds on record, but I could hardly believe my eyes one day, when I saw a Tiger Moth biplane facing into the wind fly backwards across the airfield.
Prior to joining the R.C.A.F. I had established a reputation of being a pretty good amateur boxer in our little community, so when boxing cards were arranged, I volunteered to participate. I won the first two matches quite handily and was beginning to enjoy them. On the third boxing card, I was matched against a tough former lumberjack from Nanaimo. Over two rounds I peppered him at will, but couldn鈥檛 hurt him. During that time he had hardly touched me and undoubtedly I succumbed to over confidence. Early in the third round, I woke up to find myself being assisted to my corner on very wobbly legs. My opponent had apparently thrown one punch from his boot tops; one that I had forgotten to duck. Thus ended quickly, what looked briefly like a promising career.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.