In Memory for November 11

[PaulG]

This year marks the 100th "anniversary" of the start of WW1.  One of the pivotol times of humanity has gone from living memory to written history, as there is no-one left alive to relate it to us face to face.  Soon the veterans of WW2 will be gone, then Korea, then... well you get the idea.  One of the fears of this is that as the veterans disappear, the rest of us forget the reality of those conflicts thus setting up scenarios to repeat them for future generations.  It makes the oath "Lest We Forget" ever more meaningful.  My family's own history during WW2 and Korea would be considered tragic and heroic, though none would call themselves heroes.

My father was a member of the Essex Scottish Regiiment (a Bren Gunner) from Windsor, Ontario - just across the River from Detroit.  In August 1942 they were part of the ill-fated raid on Dieppe, France (code named ironically Operation Jubilee).  What Gallipolli in WW1 means to Australia, Bata'an in the Philippines to America, Dieppe means the same to Canada.  A meat grinder created in part by the hubris of commanders, completely innacurate intelligence, and bad luck.

To be brief, it was a raid to probe enemy defences, gather intelligence, then evacuate - but primarily it was to show Uncle Joe in Russia that the allies were doing something to relieve the pressure off the Eastern Front.  As the invasion fleet approached the French coast before dawn, they were spotted by a German E-Boat which was promptly sunk - the element of surprise was gone but the raid continued.



As the first wave went ashore, the Germans were ready and let loose with machine guns, mortars and artillery. Through garbled communication it was thought they had breached the sea wall, and the second wave was sent in.  In fact most were pinned down on the beach, or huddled at the base of the sea wall.  The Essex Scottish was in the second wave, and when the doors dropped on the landing craft this is what my father saw...












Within a couple of hours it was all over - 5,000 Canadian troops went in (along with British Commandos and even some American Army Rangers as "observers").  Only a little over 2,000 returned to England.  The Essex Scottish landed with 553 men, and only 51 returned to England.  Thats around a 90% casualty rate of dead, wounded, or captured.  Of the very few things my father ever told me were: he never fired his gun, whenever a shell hit the water you have to bring your knees to your chest to hopefully prevent the shock wave from turning your guts inside out, and the Germans picked him out of the water trying to make it back to a landing craft.  That was his war.  Two years of training, and two hours of complete terror, then 2-1/2 yrs as a POW.  His mother didn't know if he was alive or dead for six months.


Dieppe Raid - Escape & Aftermath footage


Wow - it finally embedded a video for me!  As I write this, it's turned into something longer than I thought it would be.  If you make it to the end, you might get a medal for it.

Those years as a POW stayed locked inside of him most of his life.  Even as a child when I would ask him a question, he would usually give a vague answer.  Snippets would be revealed occasionally by my mother (who he met as a nurse in England before the raid), or through anecdotes from relatives.  Much I have learned through reading and research.  Like this:

After being captured, the prisoners were herded into cattle cars for a three day journey into eastern Germany.  No food, little water, and a 50 gal. drum to shit in - which was overflowing after the first day as they were packed shoulder to shoulder, and took turns standing or sitting.

A snippet: at my mother's wake, an aunt related a story to me I had never heard before.  Before going on the raid my mother had given my dad a ring.  While a POW my dad traded that ring for some bread.  Decades later at a POW convention, that same man gave the ring back to my mother.  Sounds like something out of "Mrs. Miniver", but apparently it happened.

Later on, all Canadian prisoners in the system were shackled for about 9 months on the orders of Hitler.  Why?  Because our somewhat obtuse Prime Minister MacKenzie-King (who communed with his dead mother, and talked to his dog) had German POWs cuffed for attempted escapes.  Many of our own POW camps had little or no fencing to keep them in - the reason being: where they gonna' go?  But the Canadian prisoners got around that by picking the locks with those keys from the corned beef or sardine tins, or simply by slipping their wrists through them due to the tremendous amount of weight they were losing, as they were not getting their Red Cross parcels.

A snippet : my father mentioned one time their camp was less than a mile from a concentration camp (have yet to find out which one).  They could see the chimneys billowing out black smoke, and smell the bodies burning.  When I asked him what it smelled like, he said "Just like burnt pork, only worse."  As a kid I could not understand what he meant, and even today it's hard to wrap my head around it.

During the winter of '44 with the advance of the Russians they were ordered out of their barracks, and were force marched with what clothes they had on their backs for the next four months.  Marching through Poland and Germany endlessly, being kept as bargaining chips.  If you lagged behind they would stab you in the ass with a bayonet (not just a slight jab), if you fell they would shoot you.  Eventually they would bayonet you to death to conserve ammo.  At night if they were lucky they would get a barn to hold up in.  Most nights they were forced to stay in an open field.  If you sat down - you froze to death. Learning to sleep standing up saved your life.  Many froze, and there were many Americans amongst them.  Mostly raw recruits captured during the Battle of The Bulge with improper clothing.  The Canadian and British POWs had several years of hardship and their bodies had toughened considerably despite their present state.  In the spring of '45 they awoke to find no-one was around.  The guards had fled as elements of Patton's army came roaring across the countryside.

A snippet : Upon repatriation back to England, my father told me the method of recovery was to go to the mess tent - eat - go outside to throw up into a drum - and repeat for the next few weeks until you didn't puke anymore.  At that point you were cured and sent home.

My mother was not a war bride technically.  My dad was shipped home before they could get married (or could make up their minds as they barely knew each other).  It took two more years to save the money to get a ship to Canada.  I applied for a copy of his service record from the Department of National Defence, (which I can't find now!) and on the surface it revealed almost nothing.  But between the lines were some interesting details.  Personal effects upon discharge: a comb, a watch, shaving kit, and other minutae.  Thats it.  His medical diagnosis was : "Complains of sore back and occasional nightmares".  Thats it.  The DND suggested contacting Veterans Affairs for his post war file.  I have thought about it, but do I really want to?

Over the course of the next several decades those "occasional" nightmares resulted in several stays at the Veterans Hospital, drinking (which today would be considered alcoholism, but then was considered almost normal), and a pack a day smoker.  He held many occupations, distrusted politcians - "buncha turkeys" - but always voted, and raised 10 children (most turned out ok...).  I asked him one time "Dad, do you hate Germans?".  He said, "No.  Why would I? They are people just like us."  As a kid I was puzzled, as an adult I am still.  Could I be so forgiving?  I knew what made him mad, (NO ONE took on "the old man" as he could mop the floor with you into his 60's) - but I could not figure out what made him happy.  He died of cancer at 63 yrs old in 1983 when I was 20 yrs old and realized I barely knew him.  I know more about him now than I did then.

My Uncle Jim and Uncle Bob I never got to know.

Trooper Jim was in the 1st Hussars of the Royal Canadian Armoured Corps. in a Sherman tank on August 14, 1944 in Normandy, France.  He was killed around Caen while trying to close the Falais Gap to trap the German army.  He is buried in the Bretteville-sur-Laize Canadian War Cemetary; Calvados, France.  The circumstances of his death remain unknown so far, but it's not hard to imagine what a German 88 or Tiger Tank or Anti-Tank cannon could do to those gas tanks on treads. I don't know his exact age, but like most he was probably in his early 20's.

My Uncle Bob was a Private in the Royal Canadian Regiment.  He was killed on Hill 187 on May 3, 1953 in South Korea.  The Battle of Hill 187, was the Canadian Army's last major battle of the Korean War.  Over the course of the night of 2-3 May 1953, "A" and "C" Companies of 3rd Battalion, RCR endured constant enemy shellfire and wave after wave of approximately 400 enemy troops assaulted their positions.  The fighting was so fierce that over 3,000 artillery shells were called down on their own position to stop the enemy advances.  The battle proved the most costly of all those fought by Canadian soldiers in Korea, with 26 dead, 27 wounded, and 7 taken prisoner.  Bob was 2 months from the end of his tour of duty.  He had a twin brother, my Uncle Richard (Dick) serving with him.  My mother told me that Dick was on leave when the attack happened.  When he got back the Padre told him Bob was dead.  The last thing he remembered was punching the Padre - then waking up in a Tokyo hospital, after the sedation they injected him with wore off.  He was sent home after that for compassionate reasons.  Uncle Dick is the last remaining male on my fathers side of the family still alive today.  Bob is buried at the United Nations Cemetary in Busan, South Korea. He was barely over 20 yrs. old.

When I've had a shitty day, I think of my dad and know he would roll his eyes at me.  When I'm shovelling my car out of the snow bank and cursing, I think of standing in fields night after night trying not to freeze to death.  When I feel like punching my manager at work (far too much...), I visualize a Sherman tank brewing up and burning for days.  When my insomnia kicks in, I wonder how would I handle an artillery barrage brought down on my head.

We bitch about the government, we whine about the weather (a curious Canadian pastime), and curse the idiot drivers on the road.  But I can read or write whatever I want - I can travel freely accross most borders - I can call the Prime Minister (or President) a dick, and not get executed for it.  I imagine the list of things I can do far outweigh the things I can't.  And why?

Because millions of men (and women) stood up and said ENOUGH!  If you know any veterans, even those of more recent conflicts, remember them, talk to them, thank them.  No soldier ever started a war, and few politicians stop them.  Read their history.  Not just the dry histories written by an academic in an ivory tower, but their personal accounts, they are far more informative.

Anyhow, thats my spiel for now.  If you read it this far, Thanks.

Lest We Forget.

[fjfool]

thank you for that
i have much to say -in agreement
but i am speechless now

[big r]

Great information. My grandfather was a member of the black watch in the first war and my dad landed at Juno beach on D Day. They never said to much about what happened over there.but I could tell that  there were a lot of bad memories. Thanks Big R

[Tiger]

Lest We Forget...Well done Paul.

The local Erin branch of The Canadian Legion holds it annual dinner/ dance tonight, which my wife and I look forward to attending each year.

My family has a military history...no hero's, yet all hero's in my aging eyes...My grandfather saw action in WW2 (Royal Scots), mother and father (both Royal Air Force), nephews x 2, saw action in N Ireland (REME), nephew, a serving member of the Canadian Royal Artillery, a brother in law saw action in Aiden and N. Ireland(REME) and a past father in law...he was one of the British members of the expeditionary force who was taken prisoner and spent the rest of the war as a transient POW around Germany...a man also reluctant to tell much about life as a POW

...and me?? I was proud to wear the Queens uniform for several years, as a Royal Artillery reservist.

John.
p s Lest We Forget...Wear that poppy with pride!!

[FJmonkey]

Wow, I was not ready for that. But how true it all is. Thanks. It brings back memories of the short time my brother served in the Air Force in Bahrain and Sadam was lobbing Scud missiles at them... Quite sobering when the reality kicks in of what our service men and women have endured for our freedom...

"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few."
― Winston S. Churchill

[Zwartie]

Thank You.

[aviationfred]

That is an incredible story, thank you for sharing.

My family has a military history. My Grandfather had enlisted during WWI (U.S. Army). 2 Uncles served during Korea (U.S. Army). My Father saw action during Vietnam, Retired from the U.S. Army Reserves in 1993, Rank CWO-4, (CH-47 Pilot, U.S. Army). My Stepfather Served 20 years and was a Drill instructor during Desert Storm, Retired 20 years active duty, 1993, Rank Gunnery Sargeant. (USMC). Two Uncles on my mom's side, (U.S. Army). Another uncle through marriage that served. (U.S. Navy). I have a twin Brother that served as an M1 Tank driver, (U.S. Army). A younger brother that saw action during Desert Storm, M1 Tank driver, (U.S. Army). I have a cousin that was awarded the command of the U.S.S. Bainbridge DDG-96 just this week. Commander Sean Rongers (U.S. Navy).


...and me?? I was proud to wear the Uniform of the United States Marine Corps. I saw action during Desert Storm as a CH-53E Helicopter Mechanic and Flight Crew member.

Fred

[Burns]

My mother was a 2nd Lt RN tending wounded soldiers and flyers in Europe. My father was a Medical Corps logistics officer there. It is not only the warriors to whom we have a profound debt, but to all those who served.

[fj1289]

Thank you for sharing this

[The General]

https://www.youtube.com/embed/Wq0X0bwMprQ?feature=player_embedded

[TexasDave]

When we think of WW1 it is in remembrance of the sacrifices our fiends and relatives made. Both my grandfathers fought in WW1 and both came home and never said a word about it. My Dad's father came home with his hair turned completely white. Didn't learn until I was an adult this was a result of being gassed by chlorine gas. My grandfather's unit of 260+ had all but 10 soldiers killed or wounded. As a squadron commander in the Navy my uncle requested my grandfather's service records as he never talked about the war. My uncle said Pops was in every major battle in France and Belgium. My grandfather only ever said you thought France was a small country until you had to walk across it.  Dave

[motohorseman]

Thank you for posting.


Excellent reminder for us all