One of our latest events took place in New Brunswick, at the end of November. I scanned and took pictures of different artefacts and mementos that the veterans kindly brought along with them. I would like to dedicate this article to one artefact in particular that touched me. The first artefact presented to us during our event in Moncton was an original artefact brought by Mr. Kenneth Richardson, which he used during the war while towing away trucks and vehicles destroyed through combat. It was a SURVIVAL KIT given to soldiers during the war; a cardboard box upon which "dinner" was written in blue letters, and which contained a pack of crackers, some chocolate and some synthetic lemon juice. These food items were still intact 60 years after the war. This "type K" meal ration – a classification system implemented by the Americans at the onset of the war – also included cigarettes, matches, chewing gum (all of which Mr. Richardson undoubtedly used during his time of service). The kit was small enough that the soldiers could store it safely in their pocket. These are objects that reflect that reality of the battlefield and which help us to better understand what the soldiers went through or, at least, that help us to imagine what their life was like during the war. This is the goal of The Memory Project: Stories of the Second World War: to help youth, and others who never experienced the war, to understand what the generation of our grandparents experienced in order, ultimately, to better understand world history and society today. This is why we are asking veterans to share their mementos and photos with us so that the oral history of each of these heroes can be further enriched.
What should young people know about the Second World War? I ask each of the veterans that I interview for The Memory Project this question. While it inevitably prompts a formal response, in essence every interview is actually about this subject. Time and again, the general response is more nuanced than the material found in existing publications. The memories of veterans were shaped by a variety of factors, demography included. For instance, many of the veterans I have spoken with were between the ages of 17 and 19 when they enlisted: they also tended to begin their service later in the war, particularly 1944 and 1945. A plurality of these individuals did not serve in combat. Indeed, my colleagues and I often have to make an effort to convince veterans who did not see combat that we are actually interested in their stories. Yet, it is these “non-combat” stories that provide the most illuminating perspectives on the conflict – after all, not everyone is interested only in operations and grand strategy. One of my most enjoyable interviews occurred earlier this month, when I spoke with a gentleman who served as a cook onboard the HMCS Haida. With apologies to Harry DeWolf, that gentleman and his comrades – two other cooks and a baker on a 259-man crew – likely did more to ensure morale aboard Canada’s most famous warship than anyone else. Stories such as this, especially when accompanied by tales of the Murmansk Run and Task Force 26, reveal additional details rarely discussed elsewhere, and the project provides a unique platform for veterans to share these details in their own voices.
A couple of years ago my wife and I discovered a small Legion in our neighbourhood. We were curious about what went on behind the closed doors of the Royal Canadian Legion, and on a bit of a lark, we decided to join. We quickly discovered a lively group of members who gathered every Wednesday night for Euchre. Central to this group was a good natured Veteran named Ross Annis and his girlfriend Barb. Despite the age difference, we soon became fast friends with Ross and the rest of Euchre club. Eventually of course other events made our lives too busy to attend regularly, but we still drop by whenever we can. When I started at The Memory Project I decided to contact Ross for my first interview and he agreed to share his experiences. Ross spent 29 years in the Royal Canadian Corps of Signals and was a witness to many significant events during the course of his service. During the Second World War, his journey with the RCCS took him from Sicily to Italy and then from Marseilles to the Netherlands. After peace was declared he continued on in the military and was later stationed in Japan during the Korean War. He retired in 1969 and became a dedicated member of the Legion. He always worked very hard to ensure that the Poppy Campaign at his branch was a huge success every year. This past month, soon after Remembrance Day, Ross took ill and passed away. Even though he was 90 years old, it still came as a shock. He kept so busy and lived so independently that it was easy to forget his years. In fact, he’d just renewed his driver’s licence. We often hear about how quickly we are losing our veterans, and Ross's passing is a sad reminder of that. However, when a veteran passes we lose more than an eyewitness to history. Ross possessed an uncommon strength of character that was shaped by the events of his generation. His living example of this rare virtue is by far our most significant loss. He was a gentleman in the rarest sense and he had genuine class. He leaves behind family, loved ones and of course, his many friends at the Euchre club. He will be sorely missed by all of us.
Best case scenario: Every veteran we meet is lucid and able to tell their story the way it happened. However since we are interviewing people in their mid-eighties and asking questions about events that took place over sixty-five years ago, often times the best case scenario is not possible. It is hard to shake the feeling that this project is happening five or ten years too late. One particular veteran I met in Montreal recently really brought that fact home for me. This gentleman, Peter Van Bree Voort, attended our event in Montreal with his wife and daughter the day after being discharged from the hospital for heart surgery. He came to the event still connected to his oxygen tank. When Mr. Van Bree Voort was ready to be interviewed, he was clearly physically uncomfortable and unable to go downstairs to where we had set up our audio recorder. I turned to his daughter and suggested we postpone the interview until that her father felt better. She said, “We better do it now. You never know what tomorrow will bring.” I nodded and we set up a new recorder in a less ideal, but closer location. I anticipated a difficult interview, however as soon as I asked Mr. Van Bree Voort to state his name; it all came out –an incredibly articulate and emotionally charged story. He spoke of his time in the Netherlands and how he and his family risked their lives helping local Jewish families survive. He was a Prisoner of War; spent time in jail and hid from the Nazi’s in rural areas throughout the Netherlands. His story was mind blowing. After wards, his daughter turned to me and said: “Thank you, now my father can leave this life in peace”. After this interview I was left with the strong sense that even if we are a little late in some cases, it’s incredibly clear that it’s better late than never. Listen Peter Van Breevoort's Story
One of the real pleasures of working for The Memory Project: Stories of the Second World War has been the opportunity to interact with veterans. These men and women experienced first-hand an event in our history that has always captivated me on a personal level. In the past, I, like most Canadians, took to books and television to feed my curiosity. After conducting my first few interviews, however, I quickly realized the very real connection to our past that I’d been missing. I had the pleasure of speaking with a Spitfire pilot from Saskatoon, Gordon Wilson, who had flown sorties in North Africa and Italy. He spoke to me of tense flights, close calls, and even a crash landing. Mr. Wilson described his wartime experiences with a certain tone of pragmatism that although not without emotion, wasn’t wistful either, with one small exception... During our conversation the aviation buff in me had to ask; “What is it like to fly a Spitfire?” I could hear Mr. Wilson smile over the phone as he gave in to his one wistful moment of the interview and describe the experience as a “dream come true” and that he “fell in love right away.” He quickly recovered and let me know; “If you have the best of that airplane, you’ll enjoy it, but if the plane gets the best of you, you’re in trouble.” I’ll never be able to apply that advice, but I’m glad to know it. At the close of our interview I had to wonder if his neighbours knew these things about him - That the elderly gentleman raking his leaves next door once crashed-landed a Spitfire in Italy behind enemy lines, and then evaded capture. It’s a story worth turning off the TV for...