大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Claire White of 大象传媒 Scotland on behalf of Rosalind Elder and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

The Ile De France sailed from Southampton docks on April 2, 1946. On board were five thousand Canadian servicemen, and thirty war brides, no children. Canada was a far country, six days by ocean liner, and a long way from home. We passed the time of day by strolling the decks. The troops slept in hammocks below decks; I expect the men were happy to be homeward bound at last. A number of the wives were pregnant; including myself; between seasickness and nausea, it was no pleasure cruise.

Sailing into Halifax Harbour, Nova Scotia, everyone ran out on deck to catch a glimpse of the Canadian shoreline. Halifax city back then was drab and gray; the wooden houses resembled apple crates turned upside down. Bright and early next morning the troops were marched to their trains, some for the Canadian West, others to Ontario.

We were shepherded into a building resembling a cattle shed, to add to our dismay it was cold, windy and bleak. The trains were huge in comparison to our small British ones, with such a melancholy wail; it would bring tears to your eyes. These trains were to take us to North Sidney, pier to sail to Port aux Basque. The Cabot Straits lay ahead. "The stormiest crossing in years," said the sailors, as the vessel heaved its way across the Gulf of St. Lawrence. There it was, looming ahead, fogbound, forbidding, the ominous rock! Newfoundland! My heart sank, as I鈥檓 sure did most of the other war brides. There was no turning back now. The Newfie bullet awaited. It ran on a narrow gauge railway track three and a half feet wide and made the three hundred mile trip to St. John鈥檚 in seventy-two hours. The menu consisted of Newfie fare, cod tongues, brewis, scrunchions, trout, bakeapple jam and a salt beef dinner. The returning veterans were as pleased as punch to once again enjoy the type of food they had grown up with. My mother in law taught me how to prepare these dishes.

The scenery was bleak, rocks, barrens, and endless snowdrifts. As the train chugged its way across the country, numerous stops were made at quaint sounding places, where some of the girls alighted. I was glad I was going to St. John鈥檚 rather than to some small outport.
My husband had a good job; we prospered and raised a family. His company transferred us to Nova Scotia in 1959, and again in 1966 to Toronto for several years, eventually we retired to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, which is by far the best part of Canada.

Perhaps Newfoundlanders no longer boil the kettle and fry freshly caught trout by the side of a "pond" as we did, but then again maybe they do. I bet they no longer use the old sayings like "bound you will." And the Newfoundlander鈥檚 toast

I bows towards you,
I nods accordant.....
I catches your eye and I smiles

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