MAY 2003

WITH RADIALS

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Phil Dubois
427 Sqdrn. 50th Reunion Nov./1992 Petawawa, Ont. (No beard now)

Phil Dubois – Gibsons B.C.
A WING AND A PRAYER

Our crew had been on a weeks operational leave. The date was 22/12/43. Several of us had arranged to catch the 3:30 p.m. train from King’s Cross to York. We arrived in York to have a few pints before catching the milk train to Leeming. None of us were feeling too much pain when we passed through the main gate. There was an aircraft coming in to land. I made a remark that “The bastard is going to prang”, we were even betting ten bob one way or the other. We then heard a bank, crash, screech which tended to sober us up;, especially the next morning when we discovered it was our beloved Y-York, mostly referred to as Yehudi, the Gremlin painted on the nose. A new pilot on the squadron, F/Sgt. Rex Clibbery was returning from a Bullseye and forgot to lower the undercarriage. He badly bent our aircraft and it never flew on ops again. Yehudi was a Halifax V. By the time she was repaired we had converted to Halifax IIIs.

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Back Row – Sgt. Gibbs, P/O Deegan, P/O Smith, F/Sgt. Axford (KIA)
Front Row – WO2 Bob Anderson, F/Sgt Phil Dubois, Sgt. Corriell

This photo was taken by P/O Smith, Mid-Upper of S/L Lairds crew. Shortly before the raid on Nuremberg 30/31 March /44 Jim Moffat was the only survivor of their crew. One of our worst Ops.

29th. Dec/43 we were on the Ops board for operations that night. We were assigned “W-Willie” LK915, our Flight Commander S/L Laird DFC’s aircraft. At briefing we found the target to be Berlin, our third trip to the big city. Our second dickie was Rex Clibbery. There was no hard feelings about him pranging our kite and Rex turned out to be a real Squadron character. Both he and his mid-upper gunner, Sgt. R.E. Quale won the DFM over Magdenburg on the night of 21/01/44.

We took off at 20:00 hrs. We were well into Germany in the area of Hanover when our Mid-upper Gunner, Johnny Gibbs told me there was another Halifax on our port beam. It was slightly above us and flying slightly to starboard. We could both see that there was no fear of collision. When it was directly above us our Flight Engineer looked up through the astrodome and yelled, “DIVE” We were at 18,000 feet. Our Skipper, P/O Bob Deegan pulled up at 14,000 feet. The constant speed unit in the port outer went U/S. Deeg managed to feather it, but we were unable to gain altitude. By then we were well behind the bomber stream and had no desire to fly over Berlin at 14,000 feet by ourselves so decided to jettison our bombs live and return to base. There was a very large explosion when our 2000 pound bomb exploded.

Soon after we set course for the Dutch Coast the red fighter flares started dropping. At this stage of the war the fighter boxes were being manned by inexperienced crews, the experienced crews attempting to, and quite successful in intercepting the bomber stream with their Zahme Sau or Tame Boar  method. We did have one night fighter come within 600 yards of us. I gave evasive action. The fighter had his navigation lights on. This was not an uncommon practice with German night fighters. While the Gunner’s attention was drawn to the fighter with it’s nav. Lights on, another one came in from a different direction and shot you down, however this was not the case. We were throwing window out like mad (aluminm foil to confuse the radar). I think it was an inexperienced pilot confused by the window.

P/O Phil Dubois – Halifax III
420 Sqdrn. July/44

As we approached the Dutch Coast we were unable to maintain altitude on three engines and were down to 10,000 feet. At this time the starboard engine sprung a glycol leak and had to be feathered to maintain altitude. It then became a comedy of errors.

We had enough window for the trip to Berlin and back. Our Flight Engineer, Clem Corbiell, in an effort to lighten our load opened one of the top escape hatches and started throwing out whole unopened bundles of window. The first one struck the mid-upper turret giving Johnnie quite a scare. He then commenced throwing them out either side and in the darkness not knowing that he had severed both the pilot’s  sending and receiving aerials which ran from the radio loop to both rear tail planes. Jim Smith, our radio operator was busy sending out S.O.S’s. Of course he was not on intercom so he did not know what was going on. We still had the incendiary containers. To lighten the load further the bomb doors were opened and Bob Anderson, our bomb aimer, jettisoned the incendiary containers. In doing so he loped off the trailing aerial. Smitty managed to locate his spare trailing aerial which had come loose from its mooring in our dive and was buried in the nose under piles of open window that had ended up in the nose when Deegan had pulled out of the dive. He managed to splice it on to what was left of his trailing aerial and continued sending S.O.S.’s. By this time we were down to 5,000 feet over the North Sea. The Port inner engine had overheated so much that it had burnt off the exhaust manifolds, or flame dampeners, only developing about one-half power, and was trailing an exhaust flame about 15 to 20 feet behind. Johnnie said he could read a newspaper in the mid-upper turret. We never considered removing the guns as we did not know if we were being tracked by a German fighter.

By the time we were half way across the North Sea we were at 5,000 feet and staggering through the air at 110 mph, just above stalling speed. I had no desire to ditch in the North Sea at night in the middle of winter. Smitty had managed to splice in the pilots sending aerial onto his trailing aerial, but not the receiving aerial. Deegan was calling “DARKIIE”, but not receiving an answer.

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Corporal McMillan and Dusty Rhodes (Roads?)
Dusty was a bank manager in Calgary after WWII.
A great Ground Crew. YEHUDI was a good Gremlin.
This is the aircraft pranged by F/Sgt. Rex Clibbery.

We were down to 1,000 feet when the English East Coast was sighted. The Skipper told me to come out of my rear turret to the rest position as we may have to bail out. I was just over 6 feet tall and had difficulty getting out of the turret. I certainly preferred bailing out rather than ditching in the North Sea.

When I plugged into the intercom in the rest position, I heard US Army Station Bungay answering our distress call. Clem was trying to pump down the under carriage, but was quite exhausted from trying to lighten the aircraft. He told me years later that a big hand came over his shoulder and in a few strokes finished the job. He said, “that was your hand Phil.”

Bungay turned on its lights and, fortunately, we were lined up with the runway as the port inner packed up on the way in. Deeg made a successful one-engine landing. We had no brakes, consequently we ran off the end of the runway, but no one was injured.

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P/O Bob Anderson, F/L Bob Deegan, Intelligence Officer,
WO2 Phil Dubois, interrogation after a raid. (Note Sweet Cap cigarettes.)

Later in the day the CO and the Engineering Officer flew down in an Oxford. The E.O. said, “4 new engines.” They took our Navigator and Skipper back with them. That night the remainder of the crew headed into Norwich where Rex Clibbery entertained our gracious Yank hosts by singing many songs including “We were Flying F’n  Fortresses at 40,000 Feet.”

The next day we were given railway passes to return to base. We got as far as Peterborough and Rex said there was no way he was going to spend New Years Eve on a bloody train. We booked into a hotel and spent the night in z pub. Clem said we had a good time and were invited to a house party after the pub closed. I was only 19 at the time, the youngest member of the crew, and after a few pints of beer my recollection was very hazy.

Bomber Stream. Halifaxes on way to Germany 1944

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BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC

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This is the first part of BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC
written by Norman Shannon for AIRFORCE Publication Winter 2000.

Hattie’s Camp wasn’t dressed for history that evening although many of the men wore a poppy. It was 10 November 1940. The 22 men who boarded the seven Hudson aircraft were about to challenge the Atlantic yet were glad to see the end of the airfield which consisted of a hangar, a control tower and two coaches in the Newfoundland railway siding, shortly after 9 p.m. Don Bennett sent the first Hudson snorting down the desolate runway which some folks were starting to call Gander. The others followed sending snow scudding across the swamp at Mileage 113 of the railway, and the band played, “Nearer My God to Thee.”

The selection was appropriate, considering the fact that the Hudsons were challenging the night and the Atlantic Ocean. Aircraft were so badly needed in England that some officials were willing to accept a 50 percent loss because that was the loss incurred when aircraft were shipped by sea.

Don Macfie ready to do his bit for
King and Country

So much for the “Official” history. Many graduates from the Commonwealth Air Training Plan did not depart for England via Pier 21 Halifax, many were instrumental in flying much needed aircraft from Gander to UK. Let us listen to a Wireless Air Gunner who “worked” his way overseas on a Hudson aircraft.

Don Macfie writes:

We had just come up to Dorval near Montreal from our OUT where we had learned the knack of the Lockheed Hudson. We had about 60 hours as a crew, which is not much when you are setting out for the United Kingdom some 3000 miles away and across that stretch called the Ocean.

Bert Russell is pilot and Skipper of our brand new Hudson parked on the apron with Libs, Cansos, Mitchells, Dacotas, and the heck knows what else. Russ comes from Edmonton, married, University graduate. So far I’ve no complaint of him as a pilot, and we are getting confidence I him.

Then there is Ritchie, Jack, short and full of tricks and devilment with no apparent worry in the world, a grin which always reminded me of fox who’d just run off with the bait from the trap. He is the Navigator and master of all those pencils, maps, gadgets, up in the nose where he has a little room all to himself, and lots of windows where he can take in the view passing underneath. He comes from Windsor, and we are all the time hearing about how it is the best city in Canada. He is well educated, and about 23 years of age.

Lastly there is me, about which there is not much to tell. Worked at home on the farm up in the bush country of Ontario, quit school at about 11 years of age. Came out of the bush and joined up as an air gunner, getting in only because they were needing gunners at that time. It happened that I got sent to wireless school for some reason, where I did pretty well for myself and got sent to OUT at Debert N.S. for training as a ferry Command W/OP. I did pretty well there to. I’m 21, not much to get around, no dozen girls like Richie, I stay in and save my money.

June 2, 1942

Flew our overloaded new Hudson FH444 from Dorval to Gander Newfoundland. Here we find many of the chaps who had preceded us. We learned that Dezall, Gatehouse and Scarth never reached the UK and are down and lost. Scarth was a good friend of mine. We were given a good meal and a comfortable place to sleep.

Aircraft at Gander Airstrip waiting to be ferried to UK 1942

June 3 ,1942

Got up about 10. In the afternoon bought a bunch of cigarettes at $1.00 per carton of 200. I bought 2400. We were briefed for the trip in the afternoon. The weather report is cloudy with some ice and it was up to the crew whether they went or not. Everybody decided to go. I was responsible for the food, thermoses and such items.

We took off at 9 p.m. We had such a heavy load that the aircraft seemed to be just up there kind of rolling back and forth like a water-soaked log about to sink. We crossed the coast of Newfoundland half an hour after take-off and headed out over the Atlantic for Ireland.. We had to start our climb immediately to get over the cloud.

June 4, 1942

I didn’t have much to do on the trip. Send call sign every two hours, and keep my ear open in between. The first thing to go wrong was the oxygen supply. We turned it on and in doing so Bert turned his valve out too far and couldn’t get it back in gain. Oxygen was blowing out at a great rate and we would have lost it all if I had not got to the main valve at the rear and  managed to regulate the oxygen flow. It was rather tricky and at times we were not getting enough and felt woozy. Richie didn’t turn his on at all, He didn’t know he had to turn the valve on, just put his mask on and let it go at that. He came up out of the nose a couple of times and seemed to be acting funny. I noticed him crumple up his maps, break his pencils, and bite chunks out of his eraser, and wipe everything onto the floor. I went down in the nose and found his oxygen valve was not on. He said later that he got very sleepy and unconcerned, gave up navigating, and just sat there. When he was in this state he had come back to take a star shot through the astro dome, but breathed on the glass of the sextant and it immediately frosted over rendering it useless for the rest of the trip.

The uneven flow of oxygen had other effects. About four hours out, a gas tank ran dry and both motors quit. We went down in a dive toward the sea. Not knowing what had happened gave me quite a scare, I thought all was up with us. At 13,000 feet Bert started to come out of his oxygen deprived stupor and, seeing the big red light blazing at him switched over to the full tank and got us going again. This was to happen two more times on the trip.

It didn’t get very dark. Got into shades of twilight about 12:30 a.m. The light travelled around the horizon and the sun was up again at 3:30 a.m. At this time we were flying at 26,100 feet and just skimming the tops of the cloud and leaving a big ditch traced behind us. We had an exceptional ship, they usually couldn’t get that high with a load. It was 60 below up there and we seemed to be in a very unreal world. I came out of a drowse once to find a large icicle from my oxygen mask stuck to my knees. I also had to pump 110 gallons of fuel up from the bomb bay at a rate of six pulls on the pump per gallon. This was pure hell when you are oxygen-shy and freezing.

After nine hours and still over cloud we figured we should be getting somewhere but weren’t quite sure of our position. We just went by what bearings I could get on the radio. Finally we saw a hole in the cloud and came down. There was land. We breathed a sigh of relief. I got a fix that put us over the biggest lake in Ireland and got a QDM (course to steer)  from Prestwick. In half an hour we were over Scotland I will never forget the pretty sight Ireland and Scotland made. We cut into the circuit and landed without permission because all our tank gauges were reading empty. We had about 15 gallons left. I had trouble with the radio telephone because of the Scottish accent of the operator. Our time for the trip was 10 hrs. and 15 min.

It is all over, and I feel at last I have done something. I guess I have eh?

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Don Macfie sent the following pictures.

Sgt. George Irving Meaford – WAG,  Communications Centre on a Sunderland Flying Boat. (OK all you Ex-WAGs out there,  what are all those funny looking knobs for? Duhhhhh!)

Cooking  in the Galley of a Sunderland  near the Arctic Circle

Please forgive your Editor but I just can’t suppress this anecdote. On one patrol our Second Engineer, Sgt. Tommy Abbott, was on cooking detail. Tommy overcooked the meat to the point that it could be used to re-sole RCMP boots. The Pilots were served in the cockpit. When the Second Pilot, F/O Ken Brown, failed to penetrate the offering with knife, teeth, or fire axe, he opened his side window and tossed out the meat. The tail Gunner, F/Sgt. Frank Withey, came from a state of relaxed contemplation to that of alert, wide-eyed, adrenalin pumping concentration, when the culinary missile ricocheted off his turret.

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A SAD REMINDER OF WAR

Bournemouth.
L to R - Ken Channing, Dunchurch, Ont., Don Macfie, Dunchurch, Ont., Ronnie Mclean, North Bay, Ont.
Ken was killed in action on 13th Op. 408 Squadron.
Ronnie was killed in action on second last trip, 407 Squadron
Ken and Ron were only Sons.
Don, with six brothers and sisters, survived the War.

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THERE WAS USUALLY ONE IN EVERY ENTRY
By Don Macfie

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About the time I arrived at Manning Pool, Toronto, Jan. 3, 1941, there appeared a fellow known as “Fi-Fi” the Clown, and clown he was. One morning in the dusty bull pen he arrived on squad drill with his clown boots on. You can imagine the amount of dust he raised when practicing an about turn, a matter soon noticed by the drill corporal. Next day he showed up for drill in his complete clown regalia. This time he was escorted away. On other days he would just turn left and march smartly away while the rest of the troop turned right! He never seemed to get things right, stretching the Corporal’s patience to the limit. The final thing I saw him do was, upon meeting an officer, he jumped into the air, clicked his heels, and blew a whistle, instead of saluting.

We move ahead now to March 1942 and I am on a Nav. Exercise in a Hudson from Debert N.S. and arrived a Gander Newfoundland. At the Sgt’s Mess for a beer I behold this “Fi-Fi” wearing Sgt’s stripes and doing an act of a drunk and a lamp post.

A couple of weeks ago I was reading the obituaries in the Toronto Star and I saw that “Fi-Fi” the Clown died at the age of 99 years. I’m wondering if any of our readers ever encountered “Fi-Fi” the Clown during their airforce days?

Well he had a good long time to practice his mischief.

If any one knew “Fi-FI” the Clown, drop Don a line at:
Don Macfie
RR 1  Dunchurch, ON.
POA 1G0                    (705)389-2479

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Norman (Wimp) Noel, Left, Pilot with 428/426 Squadrons,
shares War Time memory flashes with Editor John Moyles.
Wimp keeps his log book handy and when you phone him
he is able to say, “let me tell you where we were on this date XX years ago?”

The following are some extracts from Wimp’s memory notes.

Did a bombing job on Cologne and got pretty badly shot up for our trouble. Had 172 holes+. Cam, Navigator had a piece of shrapnel between his feet and up through the navigator’s table. Stu’s sleeve was torn by shrapnel and I had a  big hole about a foot away. HS shot off, big hole in the floor, some aileron and rudder (50%) down, two engines gone and wheel rendered inoperable. We skidded on the runway when landing and ended up between two runways. In the a.m. they pulled the poor old Lanc off the field in front of a hangar. I don’t think it flew again.

The ambivalent, fatalistic, personal/impersonal feeling when you come back to the barracks and see seven empty beds.

There was a Pub called “The Oak Tree just a few hundred yards outside the gate at Middleton-St-George, 428 Sqdrn.’s station. It was a pleasant little Pub and we spent a fair amount of time there. Two quite attractive local girls, one blond the other brunette, seemed to be there every night. The blond had acquired to sobriquet the “Kiss of Death” as two crews bought it after one of their members had gone out with her. Whenever a flyer approached her the rest of the crew did everything possible to prevent a relationship from developing.

Our Navigator, Cass, the R.C. Padre, and I, used to sneak out to the dispersal and steal petrol from the starter accumulators and use it in our motorcycles.

After Germany surrendered, doing a low level sight-seeing tour of Germany and seeing the Cathedral of Cologne standing, apparently unscathed, but surrounded by acres and acres of complete devastation.

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REPORT ON AIRCREW ASSOCIATION REUNION
Victoria B.C April 18 – 20, 2003
Submitted by Dave Sutherland

 JOHN; We had over 360 aircrew and their partners attend. Ken Pask and a team from the Victoria branch of the ACA did an outstanding job of organising the whole affair and it went like clockwork. The hospitality was second to none as was the food at both dinners. Events on each day were arranged for the delegates including a tour of Government House. The weather was acceptable for this time of the year, dull, but quite warm. After the banquet on Saturday evening the 17 piece Naden Band of Maritime Forces Pacific provided the music for dancing. It was a sight to see. The floor was crowded for every dance and it proves once again that we are not as old as we think we are. The weather for the parade to the Cenotaph was sunny and a warm 15 degrees. Lt Gen. Lloyd Campbell,CMM CD Chief of the Air Staff took the salute as an Aurora aircraft from Comox flew over in salute followed by a Tiger Moth that made two circuits of the parade and left with a friendly waggle of the wings. There are tentative plans to do it all once again next year - stay tuned.

Spring in Victoria with the Parliament Building in the background

L to R: Stan Sullivan, (BC) Betty Anderson & Renee Anderson (Sask)

Ray & Shirley Cole, Newfoundland.  (What Class, Must be the Newfie air.)

Jack Broughton, International Chairman,  Aircrew Association (left)  and Ken Pask, Reunion Chairman, Victoria.

The six AGs from L to R are:
Rod MacDougal, Burnaby, BC; Stan Sullivan Richmond, BC;
Dave Sutherland; John Ellis, Willowdale, Ont;
Eric Woodnutt, Kelona, BC and Sid Smith, Maple Ridge, BC.

Chief of the Air Staff, Lt. Gen Lloyd Campbell, CMM CD
taking the parade salute.

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CORRESPONDENCE

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Good evening, John and Doreene.
I have a photograph somewhere, taken at Pat Bay, of my brother and a Sgt pilot sitting on a Bolingbroke.  On the nose of the aircraft is a silhouette of a submarine and I was given to understand that the aircraft was involved in the sinking of a Japanese sub.  Know anything about that?  Cheers.
Ted & Gene.
PS. The photo might be worth putting in Shortbursts.

(Ed. Does anyone have Gen on this? If you have drop us a line, it would make a great article for Short Bursts.

I  think what prompted Ted’s inquiry  was the personal Web Page I made up for my Internet marketing hobby.)

http://johnmoyles.dollar.cashculture.net

There is a little bit of Canadian History at the top of page 1.

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EDITOR’S REPORT

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Doreene and I want to thank Phil Dupois, Don Macfie, and Dave Sutherland for their contributions to this Issue.  Thanks chaps.

I realize that it has been the policy of Short Burst’s Editorship, Charley Yule, Jim Patterson, and myself, not to get involved in political or controversial issues.  Remember the rule in the mess, two topics where verboten, politics and women. Goodness, what else is there to talk about – Crab grass!

However, I was moved to send the following letter to everybody in my address book and I think some of our Members will be interested..

This article (in part) appeared in the Regina Leader Post April 16th.

BIG BUCKS vs LITTLE BUCKS

A modest restaurant in remote Haida Gwaii, located off the coast of British Columbia, (Queen Charlotte Islands), is reeling under the threat of a lawsuit after coffee giant Starbucks decided the eatery’s aboriginal-linked name posed a threat to its plan to dominate the international java market.

A letter to HaidaBucks from the law firm of Starbucks states that the word Haida is acceptable but alleges that Bucks “results in a clear association with our client’s trade mark.” HaidaBucks co-owner Darin Swanson said the café’s name is derived from the owners’ heritage. The owners are members of the Haida First Nation. “Bucks refers to young men in the culture of First Nations. We’re Haida Bucks, it has nothing to do with Starbucks”

When I read this I got mad. I looked up the HaidaBucks phone number on the Net. They advised the they were mounting a campaign against the Coffee Bean Bullies and are receiving encouragement from across North America. The café is located in the Village of Massett, pop. 700.

You can write to Starbucks by going to the following site and filling in their form. They pride themselves on Corporate Social Responsibility.

http://www.starbucks.com/customer/contact_forms.asp?nav=3f

If you feel as strongly about this injustice as I do, drop a line to Starbucks and tell them if they pursue this action it will certainly harm their corporate image, and bottom line.

You can contact HaidaBucks Café at (205) 626-5548

Email – hbucks@island.net

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I feel that I have an attachment to Massett. In December 1941 I joined 7BR Squadron at Prince Rupert B.C.  In August 1942 I was seconded to fly as Wireless operator and crew man with W/C Gordon in a Norseman on floats. The two of us made a number of trips up and down the Coast and low-level flights over the Queen Charlotte Islands

As W/C Gordon knew many of the Factors on the Coast we would land in small bays cluttered with flotsam and jetsam, fishing boats, and abandoned pier supports. It was the crewman’s job, after the aircraft had landed, to climb out onto the pontoon, break out the paddle and, when the pilot cut the engine, paddle the aircraft into the pier, sometimes up to 200 yards distance. Besides the impediments floating around in the bay, there were three other factors to consider, wind, current, and tide, pulling the aircraft in three different directions. W/C Gordon would be shouting instructions out his window, “Watch Port wing on that post, Keep to the right of that fishing boat, don’t get into that kelp! For an 18 year old kid from he prairies who didn’t see rain until he was 10, it was quite an experience.

Excuse me for digressing - back to Massett. In our low level sweeps over Graham Island of the Queen Charlottes, at times Gordon flew below tree top level. On the last trip he asked me to mark certain locations on a map. When I asked him the purpose of these low level flights, he studied me for a moment and said, “I will tell you but it is top secret, don’t breath a word of this to anyone. I’m looking for a site to construct an emergency landing strip.”  All the aircraft in the immediate area were watercraft but there was Canadian 135 Squadron flying Hurricanes out of Annette Island in Alaska. Imagine a Winco confiding in a F/Sgt. I kept his secret.

The site was approved and became known as Massett airstrip. The Village of Massett, Haida First Nations, developed. Now 61 years later, the US coffee conglomerate, Starbucks, are complaining because two aboriginal entrepreneurs have started a coffee shop called HaidaBucks.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

Until June, Keep well. Send your articles, let’s keep SHORT BURST alive.

Cheers,                 John and Doreene Moyles

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