The Buckwell home

Here I was on the Buckwell farm. I had met the family and now it was time to settle in. I was determined to do my best and learn all I could about running the ranch, to help out as much as possible and try to become part of the family. So far, I had no regrets about being there. Before going on, I think it would be good to describe the Buckwell home.

The ranch house had five bedrooms, four upstairs and one downstairs. Downstairs there was a large sitting room with a big potbelly stove, a large dining room, and an immense kitchen. Off the kitchen was another large room with a milk separation machine and storage. Across the front of the house was a porch, with chairs and two couches. I soon found out that the house had no electricity and no running water. Just outside the back of the house was the pump that provided all the water for the house. There was no basement, hence no furnace. In winter all the heat came from the big potbelly stove in the sitting room. There were registers in the upstairs floor that could be opened to let the heat come up.

There was a full bathroom on the main floor; however it was reserved for the ladies of the house. In the bathroom was a large barrel that was kept full for flushing the toilet or bathing. The men were only permitted to use the bath for their weekly bathing. The men also had a very nice two- seater out house about a hundred yards down toward the barn. In the evening you had to light the lamps, which were propane and had to be "pumped up". In the sitting room there was a radio that was powered by a large car battery; the battery was covered by a small padded bench, hiding it from sight. There was a beautiful music box, which had to be cranked with each usage. The music was obtained by putting in metal discs, which were made of thin metal with punched holes. Sounds funny when you describe it, but it sounded great. I'll be writing more about the ranch house. I grew to love it, but it did have its drawbacks, especially in winter.

A few hundred yards from the house was a large barn with stalls for horses and another section with stalls for milking cows. There were several horses and about 10 cows for milk. Leighton sold any excess milk to the farm co-op. Behind the barn was an area where they raised pigs to be sold at the market in town, and also butchered for home consumption. There was a fairly large hen house for eggs. Next to the barn was the corral. All of these buildings were between the house and the large creek that I had seen as we drove into the farm. Getting down closer to what I thought was a creek, turned out to be more of a river. It was about 100 feet across and I would guess about two to three feet deep.

On the other side of the house was the family garden. It was a very large garden; everything grown in the garden was consumed in the home. Just about every kind of vegetable including potatoes, carrots, peas, cabbage, and lettuce, beets, cauliflower and more. Close by the garden was the underground vegetable storage, which was covered and about six feet deep, it was used to store all the root vegetables in large bins. They would then be covered with earth. The farm was pretty well self sufficient. The Buckwell's maintained a frozen food locker in the town. This was a large facility as it served several farm families. Leighton butchered calves, pigs, chickens, and sheep. This was all packaged, marked, and stored in the freezer lockers for family consumption as needed. Some was sold to a local market. The Buckwell's often donated food to many needy men and women in the area. They were very generous in many ways.

Mrs. Buckwell canned a great deal of the garden produce. For this purpose, another building was located close behind the house. It was called "the summer kitchen". There was a large stove, tables, shelves and counters. There was also a wood storage area for firewood. Another room was reserved as a laundry room. There were several tubs and buckets used for heating water and there was a wringer machine that had to be turned by hand. Also, not far from the house was the storage building for the farm machinery.

The whole house, barns, and other buildings were located on several acres of land. Rising behind the house was a hill. There was a gradual rise to the top of the hill, which was higher than the house. In front of the house and buildings were several acres of flat land that stretched out to the access road. In other words the house and buildings were set in a low area that was protected by the land behind. When you climbed the hill, the land behind it stretched for miles and was very flat. This is where the fields of wheat, barley and other crops were planted. On adjoining land were the cattle and on another section, a herd of sheep. About a half mile from the house, the hill had a gentle slope down to the flat land in front of the house. This provided access to bring livestock down to the barn and taking equipment up the hill.

I had no idea of the vast amount of work it takes to run a working farm. This was just the beginning of what I was going to learn.

 

 

Meeting the Buckwells

Meeting the Buckwells

 

 

The bus from Calgary to Macleod pulled into a reserved parking area near a local coffee shop. The driver announced that this was a 60 minute stop. The next stop would be the town of Lethbridge, about 60 miles distant. Since Macleod was our destination, we got off the bus and headed for the coffee shop. A large banner over the door announced, "Where the East meets the West". This seemed to be the popular place to meet, as there were a number of Air Force men and women milling around, in their blue uniforms. Macleod was home to a new flight training school, #7 S.F.T.S. (Service Flight Training School), where pilots were trained to fly bombers; they also trained gunners, bombardiers and navigators. This small prairie town of Macleod with a peacetime population of 1,500 suddenly became a major training center for the Air Force with as many military personnel as civilians. More about the town and the Base later.

It was time to meet the Buckwell's. We drove north from Macleod for about two miles, and then turned onto an access road that went about a mile to the entrance of the ranch. As we turned in, I could see the long entrance driveway with a large white farmhouse at the end. There were a number of other buildings, barns, and a large corral. I noticed there was a wide creek on the other side of the outbuildings. As we came up to the house a man was standing by the side of the driveway that mother recognized. As we got out of the car he came over and welcomed us. It was Leighton Buckwell. Leighton was tall, with a weathered faced. He looked every bit my concept of what a cowboy would look like. He escorted us into the house to meet the family.

Mrs. Buckwell was a very motherly looking woman. She greeted me warmly and I liked her immediately. Her daughter Ruth was also there and said that she hoped I would enjoy living with them. They had another lady staying there, the school teacher for a little "one room schoolhouse" that was just a couple of miles away. Leighton led me upstairs to what was to become my room. The Buckwell's made me feel very much a home. I was certain that I would be happy staying there, as they seemed to be such a nice family. As time went on, I found my first impression was right (more about the ranch house in the following blog).

Mrs. Buckwell was a widow. Her two sons and daughter helped run the farm. It was an immense undertaking as the farm and ranch covered a wide area. It would take an all day ride on horseback to cross their property. They raised cattle, had a number of milk cows, and over six hundred sheep. They raised wheat and other crops. They had several hired hands and when it was time to bring in the crops they hired Indians from the nearby reservation. The Indians would pitch their teepees on the property and bring their wife and sons to help out.

When war broke out, both Leighton and his brother Walter wanted to join up. They knew that they both could not go, for one of them would have to stay behind and run the farm. They decided to toss a coin and the winner could choose who would stay behind. Walter won, and Leighton stayed home. I had a chance to meet Walter; he came home on leave after training and prior to being sent overseas as a bomber pilot. He was very much like his brother, tall, strong and also looked like a cowboy. It was 1942, and pilots were badly needed overseas. He had home leave for only two or three days prior to reporting back for assignment.

Mrs. Buckwell had prepared a special dinner the night before he was to leave. Everyone was there and many stories were told about Walter growing up, good natured jokes, and more. No one mentioned the war, but I'm sure everyone was worried about where Walter was heading and wondering what the chances were that he would return. The Battle of Britain was on every radio, and it didn't sound good.

Enroute to Alberta

Here was the plan. My mother had become friendly with a farm and ranch owner In Macleod, Alberta. The owner was a Mrs. Buckwell, a very kindly lady, who invited Air Force personnel on weekend passes to be her guest at the ranch. They could ride, fish, hunt or just enjoy the ranch for a couple of days. Apparently, my mother had availed herself of several invitations. During her visits Mrs. Buckwell Became aware that Mother had a son (me) and I guess she said how much she missed me, etc. In any event, Mrs. Buckwell extended an invitation to have me come and live with her family for the duration. The idea was that I could go to school in Macleod and help out around the ranch in exchange for my room and board. Mrs. Buckwell had two sons; Walter who was serving overseas as a bomber pilot, and Leighton who was helping his mother run the ranch.

My father was contacted, and he was not too happy. He thought that I should have stayed in Vancouver and finish school. Mother prevailed, and I found myself on the ferry over to the city and then on the interurban train to the town of Steveston, where my father lived. I had my suitcase with a few belongings; I had left my school uniform jacket behind with Mr. Allen at the school. It was sad to say good bye. Now I was to spend a few days with my father before I left for Calgary, Alberta. When I reached my dad's house, who should be there to greet me; my dog Chum. It was a wonderful reunion. I stayed for about three days, and then it was time to say goodbye again to both my Dad and my dog. I was sure I would never Chum again.

I was to fly from Vancouver to Calgary, which was the closest commercial airport to my final destination, the town of Macleod. This was my first flight, and I recall that I was very excited at the prospect of this new discovery. I had reservations on United Air Lines. Little did I know that someday in the future, I would be working for them?

My airplane was a DC-3 aircraft and was only about half full. I remember flying over the Canadian Rockies with my face pressed up against the window. I couldn't get enough of the awesome view. It looked like you could reach out and touch the mountains. About half way there, it began to snow. By the time we reached Calgary, the snow was so bad you couldn't see the ground. I remember the pilot putting on his landing lights and you could see the snow and ice falling off the wings. The pilot said over the speaker that we were returning to Vancouver as the weather was too bad to land. I don't think I'll ever forget my first flight.

United put the passengers up in a hotel overnight. The next day we took off, and this time we made Calgary. My mother, who had been informed by the airline of the new arrival time, was on hand to meet me. She had come up by bus and had stayed overnight in Calgary. We had a few hours to wait for the bus that was to take us on the 106 mile trip to Macleod where I would meet the Buckwell family

In the meantime, Mother and I walked around Calgary, exploring the city. One thing that I remember was the hitching post outside the Calgary Hotel. You have to remember that this was almost seventy years ago. Calgary was like a frontier town; cowboys rode into town and tied up their horses outside the hotel. This was also Indian country with numerous Indian reservations. Calgary was also home to the famous Calgary Stampede. Cowboys would compete at various Provence competitions during the summer, with the winners competing in Calgary for championship status.

The annual Calgary Stampede is still a famous event in Calgary and I had the pleasure to attend it later in life, while attending a Rotary International Convention in that town.

Now Mother and I were on our way to Macleod. The bus travelled along a highway that was like a ribbon across the flat prairie; 106 miles of farmland and cattle ranches with hardly a tree in sight, while far off in the distance, barely visible, were the Rocky Mountains. The Rockies formed a barrier between Alberta and British Columbia. As I sat in the bus I thought of what I had just left behind, and what lay ahead. I wondered how I would be received…

On My Own

On My Own

 

 

Before mother joined in to support the new war, it was decided that I should leave public school and enter a private boarding school for boys, in order to finish my schooling in a good environment. I had no idea of the adventures that would follow in the years ahead.

Here I was in boarding school in Vancouver, and my mother was in the Royal Canadian Air Force, and sent to Toronto for her basic training. My sister, who had a full time job at the local Court House, was staying with a girl friend. The British Government was advertising for secretarial help to work with the British service staffs, in Washington, DC, on a temporary duty assignment for the duration of the war. She had sent in her application and was awaiting the reply. It was shortly after I entered school that she was accepted and left for Washington. To tell the truth, somehow I felt left out.

It took a little adjusting to get used to boarding school. First of all, there were no girls, not even as woman teachers. It was up at six thirty, shower and breakfast, then classes at eight, lunch from twelve to one o'clock. When classes ended at four thirty it was time for organized sports. Dinner was at six, study hall from seven to nine, and lights out by ten pm. The only thing that varied from the routine was the organized sports. The school concentrated on two sports, cricket and football (soccer). Less popular sports were lacrosse, baseball and rugby. Since I was a tall, skinny kid I stayed away from rugby, and played soccer and some cricket.

Several of us who played cricket had a little game on the side. Col. Smith, the cricket coach, loved to play cricket himself. He had an artificial leg, the result of injuries sustained in France, during World War One. We had secret bets as to who could hit his artificial leg as it made a loud noise when it was hit. I don't know if he ever caught on to our secret game. If he did, he never let on.

The head master was Mr. Ernest Allen who also taught English. He often visited other classes and always showed great interest in the students. He mentored the study halls and was happy to guide those of us who needed a little extra help. I liked him very much.

Most of the students came from regular families-father, mother, siblings, etc. They were able to go home for holidays and enjoyed occasional visits from family. I was a kind of misfit. Although my father would come to visit once in a while, on weekends, I felt pretty lonely. It was not easy to travel in those days. Father was working quite far away, south of Vancouver, he would have to make his way to Vancouver, then take the ferry across the Inlet and come to West Vancouver where my school was located. Father did the best he could, as I would guess this was at least a three hour trip or more in each direction. We would talk about school, my grades, etc. Mostly, I would ask him about my dog "chum". Chum was a black retriever who I had since he was a little pup. I had to give him up when I entered school, and had given him to my father to care for. From the way he spoke, I believe he had grown to love the dog and was taking good care of him.

Because of my unusual situation I believe my headmaster, Mr. Allen, took pity on me and decided to take me under his wing. In many ways he became my "Mr. Chips". He did inspire not only me, but most students. His favorite saying was "think it through, you can do it". He would often sit with me in study hall and discuss whatever subject he thought I needed help with. Sometimes the conversation would get around to his life in England, the family he lost during the war, or sometimes he asked me what I was going to do with my life after school? He was like that with most students; I believe it made all of us strive harder to make good grades. We didn't want to let him down.

I must say that I enjoyed the school and the friends I made. But, a new adventure was about to begin. My mother had been assigned to a newly built flight training school at Macleod, Alberta. She was going to be there for the duration and wanted me to join her. She had already made arrangements for me to stay at a large ranch/farm near the base. I was going to the Canadian prairies. I wasn't sure just what I would find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

World War Two Begins

World War Two Begins

 

 

In 1938, the possibility of war in Europe seemed unavoidable. Most Canadians, including my mother, were very patriotic when it came to Britain. It seemed that almost everyone had family or relatives living in England or the British Isles. Back in those days many English, Scotch, Irish and even Canadians had served in the Army, Navy or the fledgling Air Force during World War One; the war to end all wars, they said. Now Germany was back at it again. They had walked into Poland and Lord Chamberlain was trying very hard to appease them. No one, including Mother, had much hope that he could avert war. I mention this as she was mad as hell, and bound and determined that if war did break out, she was going to find a way to help. We didn't have to wait long.

Canada declared war on Germany in 1939, the day following Britain's declaration. Right after that, Mother signed up for a motor mechanics course that was being offered by the Ford Motor Company. She then completed numerous first aid courses and helped organize a local "Women's Ambulance Corp." They were training to be ambulance drivers. She thought women could drive ambulances and consequently free men to do the fighting. When the Canadian Government called for women volunteers, all applied and were accepted. Mother was assigned to the R.C.A.F. (Royal Canadian Air Force).

Perhaps I should regress a bit and tell you about my mother's early history and why I believe she was so patriotic.

She was very proud of her British heritage. Her grandfather had fought the Maoris, in New Zealand, around the mid 1800's. As she said, he would sit her on his knee and tell her, and her brother and sisters, exciting tales of how he led his troops into battle for his Country and the Queen. Her father, James Smith, had fought in the Boer war, in South Africa, in 1881. He came from a well to do English family. He took up architecture in College and was a very popular rugby player.

Mother just wanted to follow in the steps of her military family. They lived near Sandhurst Military College, in England. Not too far away was Aldershot, home to many famous military regiments. Also nearby was Farnborough Airport where she and her brother would spend hours watching the planes and dreaming of how pilots must feel, so free of the earth. Her brother Albert was fascinated by airplanes and spent hours making wooden models of the biplanes they would watch. Later he learned to fly and accumulated many hours in his twenty years of flying as an instructor and as a bush pilot, in Northern Canada.

In many respects, I shared in her patriotism. I did a great deal of reading as a youth and had a couple of subscriptions to English magazines that featured World War One stories of the RAF and adventures of soldiers during the war. Like many young boys, I thought the stories of dog fights over France or Britain were exciting. We could almost see ourselves in that Sopwith Camel cockpit, fighting the Red Baron.

I had a good friend as a youth, his name was Bill Applegath. His father was a retired military man and Bill would often say that if war ever came he was going to join the army. We were great friends and had many shared interests. We liked to go hiking up Hollyburn Mountain, in West Vancouver. We both had dogs, we both raised chickens and we both built and flew model airplanes. Although we would speak of war once in awhile, I don't believe either one of us ever thought we would meet again in the future, both in uniform.