Decisions, Decisions ?

Returning from the visit with my sister in Washington was a welcome respite from my Army duties. The train ride from New York to Vancouver and then up to Chilliwack gave me lots of time to think. The War was over; I had to make some decisions as to what I should do. I assumed that I could remain in the Army. I had a great job. The 18 months that I had served would count as double toward a twenty year retirement, since they were served during wartime. But, was that what I really wanted? Somehow I didn't feel like the Army was the ideal place for me. Perhaps the best thing to do was just waiting until the Army offered me a suggestion.

I didn't have to wait very long. I received word from the Station Commander that the Army was offering all enlisted men the opportunity to remain in the service until the future needs of the Army were determined. Additionally, any serviceman who had not yet reached their nineteenth birthday at the end of hostilities could seek a discharge. Somewhere, from deep inside, a voice said "The Army is not for me. Let's see where life would lead me". I was only eighteen and I wanted more than what the Army could offer. I requested the opportunity for discharge.

Within a couple of weeks I was ordered to turn in all my Army material. I permitted to keep and wear my uniform for up to thirty days, or until I could obtain civilian clothes. I was to report to the discharge center in Vancouver, where I would receive my discharge certificate and $100.00 to help me assimilate back into civilian life.

Prior to leaving Chilliwack, I said my farewells to everyone at the clinic; we exchanged civilian addresses and promised to keep in touch. I particularly felt sad to say goodbye to a young Indian soldier who lived in a little room in the basement of the clinic. His job had been to take care of the clinic, sweep the floors, and keep the furnace going at night so we had heat and hot water in the morning. He could not read or write and would often bring me a letter from the Indian Agent at his home reservation. The Indian Agent would write on behalf his mother who could not read or write, and ask me to read it to him. He would ask me to write back to his mother and would tell me what he wanted to say. I was trying to teach him how to read and he was learning the alphabet. We had become good friends. I urged him to keep on learning, I hope he did, but I doubt he did it. In a way, it's funny how war can bring people together in friendship on one hand while at the same time we are engaged in killing each other in some part of the world. I really don't think I would have ever made a good soldier.

I reported to the discharge center in Vancouver and was handed a certificate indicating that I was honorable discharged, given a pin to wear in my lapel plus $100.00 in cash. I was then directed to a little room to meet with an Army Captain who would help me back into civilian life. He shook my hand and told me that my Country would like me to purchase a Canadian Bond with my $100.00 discharge bonus. I told him the $100. 00 was a clothing allowance and I needed that. The only clothing I had was my uniform. I guess he had some kind of quota to make as he was not happy that I would not buy his Canadian Bond. He suggested that somehow I was not patriotic. I suggested that he was crazy if he thought I was going to give him my money. That was my introduction back into civilian life.

I had contacted my father and made my way to stay with him. The next day I went shopping for a suit and other clothing. Not much of a selection and I even had to show my discharge certificate before the store would sell a suit to me, the war time clothing rationing had not yet been lifted. I spent the next two weeks trying to find a job. A lot of veterans were looking for work and very little was available. I finally got a job at the post office, cancelling stamps. It paid twelve dollars a week. I couldn't live with my father as it was too far to travel every day. I was able to find a room in a small hotel in town, for six dollars per week. It was not much of a hotel. Just a single bed and a chest of drawers, but it was clean. No elevator and my room was on the 3^rd floor. I was beginning to think the Army was not a bad deal after all. I had been at the post office for a couple of weeks and had been to the Military employment office several times but they had nothing available except some manual labor jobs. I had tried all the dental labs and they had nothing available at that moment, but promised to call me if any opening came up.

One evening, going home to the hotel after work, the room clerk told me that my father had called and wanted me to return his call. The only telephone was in the lobby. When I got through to my father, he told me that I had a call from a Doctor Spurgeon in Sacramento, California, and he wanted me to call him. Dr. Spurgeon had been one of the dentists at Chilliwack. He was a young man, about 35 years or so of age, and was one of the Doctors I had exchanged addresses with.

I only had a couple of dollars in my pocket, just enough for my dinner, breakfast and lunch on the next day. Luckily for me, the next day was payday at the post office. I would have $24.00, less Government employment stamps, about $2.00. I got my pay and on that evening I called Doctor Spurgeon. He had set up a practice in Sacramento and wanted to know if I would like to work for him as his Lab Technician. He said that he would pay me $50.00 per week. I told him I would like to come; however, I would have to go through immigration to get into the USA. He said that he would hold the job open for me and that I should let him know if I needed any help. He also said that he would be willing to vouch for me with the US State Dept. if I needed it, and keep him informed.

With some good luck, it would seem that I would soon be on my way to California.

 

 

WASHINGTON, D.C.

In the last blog I told you about volunteering for duty in the Pacific. With the surrendering of the Japanese it was clear that Canadian service in the Pacific was going to be very limited. Although I had no word from the Army as to my status, I had fourteen days of leave coming to me. I decided to take that time and visit my sister, in Washington, D.C. My sister Vera was working for the British Government War Office. I had been in touch with her when her Naval Officer husband was lost at sea, in 1943. He was on convoy duty on a Corvette escorting Liberty ships across the North Atlantic. His ship was on duty when it suddenly disappeared. There was no distress call; it just disappeared. All hands were lost; it's assumed that it was torpedoed and probably blew up; sinking so fast that it was over in a matter of minutes. It remains one of the wars unsolved mysteries.

I called my sister and she was very happy that I wanted to come to Washington to visit her. She shared an apartment with another war time secretary, but said that they had an extra room and I would be welcome to stay with them. I arranged to arrive by train and set off for Washington on the Canadian Pacific Railroad. Once again, I crossed the beautiful Rocky Mountains, across the Canadian prairies to Toronto, where I changed trains to New York, and then again to Washington.

Vera met me at the station in Washington; this was August 1944, and the temperature must have been about 100 degrees in the shade. I had no idea how hot it got in Washington during the summer. I had on my heavy Army winter uniform, which in Canada was comfortable all year round. I did have a summer uniform, but that was in my barracks box back in Chilliwack. We made our way to Vera's apartment and I met her roommate Audrey. It was a nice apartment and I was happy to see my sister after such a long time. We spent the whole evening catching each other up on our lives to date.

Washington was a lovely city. Tree lined streets, many large buildings and what seemed like thousands of people hurrying everywhere. I spent several days just sightseeing as there was much to see. Vera invited me to visit her office and meet her boss, Sir Christopher Courtney. He was very kind and spent time welcoming me to his office and talking to me about the war. The war with Germany was over and he was looking forward to his return to England.

I had another great experience while in Washington. I had lunch with General Dwight Eisenhower and his wife, Mamie Eisenhower. Here is how it came about. I had made arrangements with Vera to meet her for lunch. We were to meet at a certain hotel down town at 12:30 noon. I had been sightseeing and arrived at the location about 12 noon. I was just standing there when an American Officer came up to me and offered me a ticket to the Eisenhower luncheon. It was a luncheon honoring General Eisenhower for his service. Apparently they had a cancellation and the officer was told to go out on the street and give the ticket to a serviceman. At first I thought it was a joke of some kind. The officer said it was no joke, and if I didn't want it he would find someone else.

I decided to take a chance and go with the officer. The luncheon was being held in the hotel I was standing in front of, He led me into this huge Room. There must have been several hundred people eating lunch. Up at the head table were General Eisenhower and Mamie. I was led to a table right in front of the General. It was the experience of a lifetime. Here I was, an insignificant Canadian Army Lance Corporal, having lunch at a table full of high ranking American officers, having lunch with The General. I never did find out the name of the organization that was honoring the General and his wife. They were presented with a beautiful silver tea service. As happened, my sister was going crazy looking for me. I rushed out and actually was walking down the staircase to the lobby just behind the General and Mamie when my sister spotted me. When I told her what happened, she said that she would never have believed me had she not seen me walking down behind the General. It was a surprising event.

My Army leave seemed to be full of unexpected events. I had some more travelling to do.

Vera had been a widow for about a year and was now dating a sailor. His name was Harold Carlson and they had been dating for a couple of months. They decided to get married, and Vera wanted me to go with them to Rhode Island where the Carlson family lived. It was important to her to have some representation from her family at the wedding. This came as a very great surprise as I had no idea this was about to happen. I still had another week of leave before I had to report back in Canada. The three of us caught a train to Providence where they got married with his family in attendance. This was all done on a weekend. The three of us again boarded a train, Vera and Harold to Washington and I left for New York, where I could pick up a train back up to Canada.

When I arrived at Grand Central Station, I found that the next train available was early morning the next day. Grand Central Station was a madhouse. It seemed that there were hundreds of soldiers, sailors, armed service men and women trying to get someplace. I had the afternoon and night to spend in New York. I didn't want to waste a minute of it. I found a check room and left my small bag. From there, I found my way to a Service Personnel Information Booth. They had several ideas of what I could do in the few hours I had. First on my list was the Empire State Building. I was amazed at the view from the top. I had never seen such a fascinating view of a city. New York certainly was big. I wondered what it was like to live in such a large city. Little did I know that someday I would live and work there?

After hours of walking and looking, I made my way back to Grand Central Station. I found that on the mezzanine floor, anyone in the armed forces could find an army cot. A volunteer lady pinned a note on my uniform indicating what time I needed to be woken up so I wouldn't miss my train. I must have been very tired, as the next thing I knew someone was shaking me and telling me to get up. They directed me to a booth down on the main floor, where the Salvation Army gave me a cup of coffee and a donut.

Soon I was on the train heading back to Vancouver and Chilliwack. What information would be waiting for me? Had any decisions been made as to demobilization? What options would I have? I assumed that I would have some decisions to make!

 

 

 

The Dental Corps.

For some reason, nature did not endow me with a pair of feet that was not optimal for marching. These feet were not made for marching. If I couldn't march, the army decided to make a potato peeler out of me. So instead of joining my fellow recruits on endless marches, I was assigned to perpetual K.P. duty, which entailed endless hours peeling potatoes. If you are ever invited to our home for dinner, I hope you'll note how well the potatoes are peeled, thanks to the craft I learned in those Army years.

It seemed like it took quite a very long time to learn my fate. Maybe because I decidedly formed a great dislike of having to get up at five A.M. to help the cook to prepare breakfast. He could take a nap afterwards, while I had to do the dishes.

Finally, my new orders came through; the Army transferred me to the Dental Corps. They decided to post me to Victoria, British Columbia, where I would be attached to the Casualty Retraining Center. I was working there when Canadian and British troops were sent to the C.R.C. to recover from their experiences in the Japanese prisons camps from which they had been liberated. I would never have believed the terrible condition they were in, if I had not seen it myself. Unbelievable, most of them were just skin and bone, their teeth were knocked out, some were missing limbs, and most had T.B. I saw many a nurse crying over the conditions these men were in; many died from their condition. Man's inhumanity to man! They say war is hell, but what the Japanese did to their captives was beyond belief. The cruelty they imposed on helpless captives should disqualify them from the human race. Later, when we learned of what the Germans did to the Jews, it sure justified the Nuremburg war trials to punish the people responsible. So much for war!

While in Victoria, I got to celebrate VE Day, Victory in Europe. The usual staid British subjects pulled out all the stops. Girls were kissing the service men, especially the sailors. I even got a couple of kisses myself. It certainly was a day to remember. I joined many buddies making the rounds of the local taverns. It was the first time I was ever drunk, and I had a lot of company. (If you ever get to travel in Canada, I hope you'll visit Victoria Island. It's a little bit of England, in Canada.)

The first thing I did the next day was to sign-up for service in the Pacific, where the action was still going on. As a Canadian service man, when you joined up, it was for the war in Europe. Canada declared war on Germany in 1939, the day after Great Britain did. Pearl Harbor didn't happen until 1941; Canada also declared war on Japan at that time. However, you were not expected to serve in the Pacific, you had to actually volunteer for that service. After seeing what the Japanese did to our men, it was not a hard decision to make. I was issued a special arm patch that indicated that I had volunteered for the Pacific theatre.

The Canadian Army was mostly a volunteer army. Although there was conscription, only those who volunteered had to serve overseas. If you volunteered as I did, you received a special arm patch that was a circle with the letters GS in the center. This identified a "General Service volunteer". My service number was K2668. Those who waited to be called to service were issued service numbers with eight digits'. Volunteers referred to them as "Box Car Numbers" This was the policy of Mackenzie King, who was the Prime Minister of Canada when the war broke out. It was an unfortunate decision because it created great animosity between the troops. Toward the end of the war this was changed. However, very few, if any, of the Box Car troops ever saw any action.

Having volunteered to serve in the Pacific, I was transferred to an Army base in Chilliwack, B.C. where I was to serve in a dental clinic until arrangements were made for the training with U.S.A. troops, for joint service in the Pacific. My understanding was that this training was going to be held at an American Army Base, somewhere in the South. As usual, things always seemed to get confused in the Army. I received notice that because I was considered a non-combative, I would not have to take the training in the USA. I was to remain in Chilliwack and await further orders. I assume that somewhere in my file it mentioned my bad feet. (No doubt somewhere it said "Not suitable for jungle warfare". Little did they know I still had my Army issued rifle in my duffle bag.

During my service in the Dental Corps, I worked in a number of dental labs along with other dental technicians. In Chilliwack, I was the only dental technician. I developed a great relationship with the six dentists I worked for. They were a great bunch and always included me in their activities on and off the base. Although I didn't know at the time, this would be important to me after I left the Army.

It seemed that only a few months later we were celebrating V.J. Day, Victory in Japan. It seemed that not only was I not going to the Pacific, I was not to see any overseas duty at all. I was ready and willing, but it was not to be; at least not now.

 

BACK TO VANCOUVER

Here I was on the Canadian Pacific Railroad heading back to Vancouver. The train ride from Calgary takes you through the Canadian Rockies, perhaps one of the most beautiful train rides you can take. The majestic mountains are often snow capped, even in summer. The mountain streams and rivers, we crossed on railroad bridges, came cascading beneath the train. So much to see that your face seems glued to the picture window by your seat. It was something I will never forget.

I had called my father in Vancouver and he was happy to have me stay with him until I decided what I wanted to do. On arrival in Vancouver I took the interurban train to Steveston to stay with my Dad. I could hardly believe it, but my old dog Chum was still alive and well. I'm not sure he remembered me, even though he wagged his tail when he saw me.

After a few days and a few discussions with my Father, I had my mind made up to enlist. I made my way to the recruiting station and tried to enlist in the Air Force. They would not take me unless I was eighteen. Since I was only seventeen I was out of luck. Going by the Army recruiting station, I found that they would take me at seventeen and a half. I had given my old friend Bill Applegath a call and we got together for lunch. I found that he too was going to enlist within a couple of months when he reached enlistment age. In the meantime, he was working for a dental lab learning to be a dental technician. I found out that they had another opening and asked Bill if he could recommend me. That's how I got a job with Bain Brothers Dental Lab. It was good training but the pay left a lot to be desired. I got five dollars a week for five and a half days, Monday to Friday Eight thirty to six and Saturday, eight thirty to one o'clock. They also threw in a streetcar pass. All I needed now was a new place to stay. My Dad suggested that I contact his brother Percy, who was married, and lived in Vancouver. Percy was in the Army with the rank of Sergeant Major. He and his wife had a son, Bruce, who was about ten years old. Percy was based right in Vancouver so he was home every night. They were happy to give me a room and board. (Even packed me a nice lunch, which I would consume in Stanley Park, just a short walk from the office.)

Bain Brothers was a good training ground. They made you work for your salary, which was fine; however, if you were five minutes late they would lock the office door and make you wait outside until they let you in. Now, Vancouver is a very foggy place, especially in the morning. We started work at eight thirty which meant I had to catch the streetcar around seven forty five. The problem was that I would have to catch the streetcar about an hour earlier if it was foggy. I know that it's hard to believe, but the fog got so thick that you could barely see your hand in front of your face. The streetcar would crawl along about two miles an hour, the motorman constantly clanging his bell to let one and all know he was coming. This led to my being a few minutes late from time to time. I recall Mr. Bain, in his thick Scottish accent, telling me that time was money and if I was late again he would have to dock my pay.

Bill Applegath left after a couple of months and joined up in the Army Dental Corps. I remained with Bain Bros for a few more months then enlisted in the Army Infantry. I was posted to the town of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, where they had a large army base where you had to go through about two month's basic training. The Army trainers at Saskatoon were mainly older British Imperial Army Officers. They were about as tough as they get. Just about what you would expect from the old guard. Remember the poem, "Guns to the right of them, guns to the left of them, volleyed and thundered, there's not to reason why, there's but to do and die".

I recall watching a regimental boxing match. Both fighters put up a good fight but eventually, one fighter was pretty well beat up. His second threw in the towel. The other fighter stopped punching. One of the British Officers entered the ring and threw out the towel, saying "in this army you don't ever give up, continue the match". He insisted the fight continue although the beaten man just stood there with his arms at his side, bleeding all over the canvas, while the officer insisted that the other fighter finish him off. To his obvious dislike, he gave him a light punch to the chest and the man fell down and was counted out.

I was able to pass all the gunnery classes and even got a marksman medal. My only problems were the forced marches. I managed to do most of them, but one day I had to fall out as I couldn't make another step. The Sergeant that day was not one of the British Imperials so he wanted to know why I dropped out. I pulled off my boot and it was full of blood. He had a jeep pick me up and take me back to the barracks with instructions to see the Post doctor. When the doctor saw my feet he became rather upset. According to him, I should never been allowed in the infantry. My feet should never have passed inspection. The Doctor said that he was going to recommend a transfer and asked if I had any skill such as bookkeeping, etc. that I could do. I told him that I had been a dental technician before enlisting. He promised me that he was going to see if he could arrange my transfer to the Dental Corps.