Beginning Air Force Life

Today is November 11. Fitting that a war story will be posted. Here is my story of leaving home to serve my country. Further instalments will share my wartime travels overseas.

Beginning Airforce Life

By Samuel M. Hauka

Edited by his daughter, Connie Jasinskas

Graduation

The graduation of my class # 33 of Flight Engineers, was taking place at Aylmer Ontario, RCAF training school on the 22nd day of December 1944. Cora my fiancé made the trip from her home in Windsor by Greyhound bus to witness the big ceremony. This gave us a chance to be together for a few days, just before Christmas. We had not seen each other for weeks, due to all the studying I had to do for my exams, just before graduation.

On the big day, Cora and her sister Eve, caught a ride on the little sixteen-passenger shuttle bus that made scheduled trips between the air base and the town. They were seated in the guest area of the big aircraft hanger where the wings parade ceremony would now take place.

With flags flying and the air-force band playing, our flight #33 marched into the hanger, and formed up for the presentation. I was able to see the girls in their seats, and they were carrying on a great conversation, as they had not been together for two months or more.

The officer that would be involved in the presentation of our Flight Engineer’s wing-badges was a Group Captain of the RAF. After his introduction by our station commanding officer, our names were called out in alphabetical order. When my name was called I stepped out of my place in the ranks, marched up to the Group Captain, and saluted him. He returned my salute, then after a few words of praise from him, he pinned on my wing, just above the left pocket on my tunic. I then took one step back, saluted him again, which he returned, made an about turn, and marched back to my place in the formation.

This process continued until each man in our flight had been congratulated, and had received his wing. Then, with the band playing the air force march-past tune, we paraded around the drill-hall, came to a halt, then were dismissed.

We congratulated each other in a hurry, then, Garvin (my future brother-in-law) and I rushed over to our guests to receive a much sweeter type of congratulation from our ladies. They were very impressed with the pomp and pageantry of our wing’s parade, and were thrilled to have been able to attend. Cora and Evelyn’s dad had been in both of the great wars, so they had a lot of interest in the military.

We were now through for the day, so Garvin and I went back to the barracks to get our great coats. We all boarded the next shuttle bus with the girls to return to town, then walked the two blocks, through deep snow to their apartment. That evening we just sat around and visited, and ate a little lunch. I explained to Cora how I had left my watch at the jewelry store as collateral, in order to buy her gift that I was now presenting to her. After pay parade tomorrow I would be able to get my watch back. I also explained to her that I would be going out to see my family in Alberta as I hadn’t seen them for a year, and I would be back here in about three weeks. Cora was sad to hear this news, but agreed I was doing the right thing, spending Christmas with my family.

Later in the evening, Cora and I said a teary good bye, and I caught the shuttle bus back to the air base to pack up my belongings. I had to sew my flight engineer’s badges, and sergeant hooks on two sets of uniforms, as I would be leaving the station soon after pay parade. At pay parade we got a raise in pay, to $3.45 a day plus twenty-five cents a day for flying pay. I also got a voucher for my train ticket to Alberta, with a sleeping birth and meal tickets. I arrived in town with just enough time to retrieve my watch from the jewelry store, and catch the train for Toronto. At Union Station, I exchanged the travel voucher for my ticket, and boarded the transcontinental train for the trip west. My voucher included a sleeping birth, but with the crowds traveling at this busy time of year (just two days before Christmas), I had little hope of getting one. However I was on my way home for the holidays.

The Journey Home

The cold, sunny weather made the billowing steam shiny white. Vigorous clouds surrounded the big engine, puffing and hissing, eager to be on its way. The engineer blew the whistle, and as the bell clanged, the conductor shouted. “ALL ABOARD”, and the train slowly moved out of the station. I turned from watching the buildings going by, to keep a lookout for the Pullman in charge of sleeping cars. I held out hope that I just might be lucky enough to get a birth. None were available, as predicted, so it would be a coach car for me sitting up all the way to Alberta. I got a seat by the window and settled in to watch the winter scenery going by. It was dark outside before we arrived in Sudbury. However, there was enough light to see a pinto Shetland pony, pulling a sleigh, heavily loaded with Christmas mail. This was the same pony I had seen last March, when I first traveled through the area. A lot of travellers got off our train in Sudbury, but more got on to travel west to their holiday destination.

We were now traveling along the beautiful, seemingly endless north shore of frozen Lake Superior. Our train chugged through large rock formations, and snaked through many short tunnels. Looking ahead through the windows on the right side of the train (during a slight turn to the right), I could catch sight of the big iron horse in the lead, belching smoke and steam. Winding and weaving, the engine frequently disappeared into the rocks. It always emerged quickly, followed by the string of passenger cars. Relentlessly chasing the engine, these cars played a continuous game of follow the leader. As a captive, curious observer, I discovered it was possible to count the number of units that made up this CPR transcontinental.

The day’s travel took us through Port Arthur, and onward. During the night, we left Ontario behind. As evergreen forests diminished, the rugged landscape calmed itself into flatter terrain. By noon, we reached Winnipeg’s train station. Our generous breakfast had worn off, and I enjoyed the sandwiches and bottle of Coco Cola I ordered from the Newsy. The Newsy was a fellow who sold newspapers, food, drinks, chocolate bars, cigarettes, and many other necessities to train passengers. On this frigid Winnipeg winter day, melted holes in frosted train windows offered misty views of local residents. They were bundled in bulky winter garments. Only their noses were visible as they went about their chores. Steamy clouds of breath floated above them. Given the proximity of Christmas, I expect most were hunting for that last present, even though the temperature was near twenty degrees below zero Fahrenheit.

After lunch, I asked one of the train crew if I had time to take a short walk to stretch my legs. He assured me the train would be standing still for at least another twenty minutes. I put on my great coat, and stepped off the train with two of my army friends. We walked the length of the station platform a few times, breathing that invigorating, frigid air.

Now as our steam engine puffed its way over the rolling prairie, we could see miles of fields, stretching out from both sides of the railway tracks. There were very few buildings or trees poking through the pure white snow to witness our passage through their quiet domain. It was a very cold, sunny day. Infrequently, chimneys could be seen, sending their smoke straight up into the sky. These plumes rose for hundreds of feet before a gentle breeze guided them eastward, where they gradually disappeared.

Back in the dining car for our evening meal, I visited with another airman and two army guys. We devoured our dinner of Lake Winnipeg white fish, topped off with CPR strawberries, and superb coffee for dessert. I always found the service in the dining cars very good. The waiters dressed in black trousers, white shirts, and black bow ties, adding a lot of class to our meals. Along with the white tablecloths, China dishes, shiny silverware, and Canadian Pacific Railroad monogrammed table napkins, this was a very pleasant place to dine!

Home for Christmas

I surprised my family Christmas evening. Without a phone, they knew I was coming home, but didn’t know exactly when. My last letter was a little slow arriving, due to the holidays. While we visited, Mom got me a big plate of Christmas turkey with all the trimmings. I finished this tasty meal with a big bowl of Mom’s steamed pudding, covered with her special burnt sugar sauce. To this day, this is one of my favourite meals. Mom, Dad, Isabel and Art (my younger sister and brother) were all very happy to have me home again. My older siblings, Don, Ed and Edna, had enlisted ahead of me and were engaged in their contribution to the war effort. I was happy to be able to surprise my family with the gifts Cora had bought and wrapped, ready for me to take to them.

I had a wonderful time visiting with my family for over a week, sharing my experiences and adventures. I had left home months ago, a young enlisted man. I returned, a qualified flight engineer, engaged to marry my sweetheart. There was lots to share! Then I received a telegram from the air force. It informed me that all of flight #33 engineers were being demobilized. We were to be placed on reserve status. At the end of my two weeks leave I was to report to the manning depot in Edmonton. It was exactly one year ago, during the first week of 1944, I had arrived at the Edmonton manning depot to enlist in the air force. This is where I began my career in the RCAF. Now I found myself returning to end my short time in the service.

At the manning depot I met many friends who had been here with me before. We had trained together, and now we were getting our discharges together. We spent several days going through physicals, filling out papers, and listening to a few lectures. When all the red tape was complete, I gave my home address, as 1021 Oak Avenue, Windsor, Ontario. That’s where my fiancée, Cora lived. When the officer in charge was about to sign the document, he reacted to my release home address. Apparently, I could not receive my discharge here in Edmonton, and get a trip back east to Windsor as a civilian. Therefore, they scratched my discharge, and gave me a voucher for a train ticket back to Toronto. The next day, I was on my way back east, where I would apply for my discharge.

Back to Ontario

Train Travel is slow. By the time I arrived at the Manning Depot in Toronto, the Air Force had changed their minds again. Instead of a discharge, I was given a voucher for a ticket to the St. Thomas technical training school. I arrived to find I had caught up with all the other members of course #33! Rumour was, we were all going to England very soon. The next day, the rumour was confirmed. After getting several needles to protect us from diseases we had never heard of, we received a hand full of documents and vouchers. These papers laid out a schedule for us. The vouchers were for train tickets to our homes on two weeks of embarkation leave. This allowed us to say goodbye to our parents, family, and friends. The bulk of our luggage would be joining us when we arrived at Moncton, New Brunswick. From there, we would head to Halifax to board the passenger ship overseas.

I made another quick trip to Windsor to spend a few precious days with Cora. After our brief reunion, I met up with another airman of our flight, an Albertan named Ferguson. On his advice, we made our way to the Romulus, the US Army Air Core base in Detroit. Ferguson had caught a flight out to Edmonton from this airfield once before, so we hoped this would be a quick way to get home. The date was March 17th St. Patrick’s Day. Unfortunately, this was not a good day to catch a free ride. Almost everyone on this air base was drunk from celebrating! Instead of flying home that day, Ferguson, and I were billeted in one of the Romulus barracks. We were each issued blankets, and a pillow, then shown where we could sleep for the night.

Before bed, we had to make a trip to their outdoor washrooms. These washrooms were about twenty yards from the barracks, on a wooden sidewalk. Anyone who has been there will tell you, Detroit is a very cold place in the winter months! The barracks, like the washhouse, had absolutely no insulation in the walls or ceiling. There was no drywall to cover the ceiling rafters, or the two by four studs in the walls. The bunk beds were made with two by fours also, and the mattresses were burlap bags filled with straw. Everything fell far behind in comfort, compared to the barracks that were provided for the RCAF personnel in Canada. However, their hospitality, and food were excellent. To get into the St. Patrick’s Day spirit, we each had a green beer or two before turning in for the night.

The next morning, Ferguson and I put our thumbs out, crossed the border back into Canada, and headed for Toronto. On our way we were offered a ride by a gentleman driving a big Chrysler car. His name was Crowder. After an hour or more of riding with this man, talking about what we were doing, he offered us each a job when we got home from the war. Mr. Crowder owned a company that made automobile engine testing equipment, with offices in both Toronto, and Chicago USA. He gave each of us a business card, and suggested we should call on him when we got home from England. He figured that since we were flight engineers, we would be the type of men who would be assets to his company. He kindly dropped us off at Union Station in Toronto, and we said our good byes.

Back to Alberta ... Again!

Our timing for train was just right. We cashed in our vouchers for tickets, this time, with sleeping births! As the sun was going down, the Transcontinental train eased its way out of Union Station, and we were on our way back to Alberta. This was the first time for me to be riding the train without any snow on the ground. It was still very enjoyable, and not nearly as crowded as my trip at Christmas.

Once again, I had sent a letter home to let my folks know I was coming. It arrived the same day I did. I could have delivered my letter by hand, and saved the postage! I was surprised to find Mom’s mom, my grandmother, Henrietta Sawyer, was visiting from Vancouver, B.C. I had not met her before, and we were both pleased to finally meet each other. My parents had named me after Mom’s father Samuel Sawyer.

While at home I helped Dad move the chicken brooder house, using the new tractor he had just bought a week or two before I arrived. Mom got a picture of me doing this job, while wearing my uniform. She also got a photo of grandmother Sawyer and I standing by our home. I spent a lot of time visiting with my grandmother and the rest of the family. Grandmother had a library of stories to tell about living in the wilds of the Muskoka, area of Ontario, with Samuel her husband. They raised thirteen children (of the seventeen that were born to them). Their large family were delivered with the help of midwives, as there were no doctors available.

When I received the immunization shots from the Doctor in St. Thomas, one of the shots required me to have a booster shot at a military hospital within ten days. This made it necessary for me to make a trip to such a place, so I chose the closest option – a Prisoner Of War Camp, at Lethbridge. While in the waiting room, six Air Force personnel from R.C.A.F. Stn. Lethbridge, arrived in the same office. These People were on sick parade, and had come to see the ‘M.O.’ doctor. I recognized one of the group to be Bernard Stubbert, an old school mate. I was called into the doctor’s office to receive the shot, and when I came back to the waiting room, to continue my visit with Bernard, I lit up a cigarette, and sat down on a chair. I passed out for a minute or more. When I woke up, Bernard was pressing my head down between my knees, but he didn’t remove the cigarette from my fingers! The cigarette had burnt down to a stub, and was now burning the two fingers holding it. We didn’t know back then how dangerous smoking was, or all the ways it could harm us. However, I recovered, had a coffee, then caught the Greyhound bus back to Taber.

And ... Back to Ontario

Two days later I said goodbye to all my family, including Grandmother Sawyer, who was going back to her home on the west coast in a few days. Five days later, I was back in Windsor, to spend a couple of days with Cora. She said she would write me a letter each and every day, and I promised to do the same, time permitting. My little sweetie came down to the train station to see me leave. It was a sad parting. We had no idea how long we would be apart. We could see each other through the train window as we waved our last goodbyes, then we each disappeared from the other’s view.

Heading Eastward

The next day, our flight #33 group gathered, luggage in hand, at the St. Thomas T.T. School. Here, we boarded the London and Port Stanley (L&PS) electric train, on the first leg of our trip. We changed trains in London, and again in Toronto, headed to Moncton, New Brunswick. In Moncton, we were given quarters at the RCAF Station. We ate our meals at the sergeant’s mess for the first time since we had received our sergeant’s hooks. On the first day at this air base, we were lectured about keeping our movements and schedules secret, because Germany’s spies have big ears.

It was now April, and we were waiting for our troop ship to arrive from England. When it did, it was our job to clean out all the garbage from the last trip, and restock the vessel for our crossing of the big pond. The water and food had to be replenished before we left. During this time at the base, all troops were paraded every morning. Roll calls were taken to see if any of the men had changed their mind, and deserted. One of our flight members did try to convince the officers that he was going a little wacky. The weather was very warm, and this fellow would come on parade wearing his great coat with the collar turned up, a scarf and earmuffs, while eating an apple. His antics didn’t convince anyone that he was unfit to make the trip across the great Atlantic, however, so he came along with us. As far as I know he enjoyed the cruise.

One day, we were called up for an unusual pay parade. We usually received our pay every fifteen days. However, this time we receive a full month’s pay. Half of the money was Canadian currency. The other half was Pounds Sterling. The reason for giving us a full month’s pay, was to give our records time to catch up to us. This pay parade signalled to us that we would be boarding a ship very soon. Most of our group wrote a letter that night, to let our loved ones know we were on our way. All of these letters were mailed on the base, so we all knew they would not go out to the regular mail service for a week or more.

The very next day we boarded a train to Halifax, Nova Scotia, arriving at the dock just a little after noon hour. Box lunches were handed to us as we filed off the train. We sat on the ground and consumed the food, then lined up with our small mess tins to receive a big helping of coffee. We were close enough to the ship to witness the army troops carrying all their bags and rifles. We watched as they made their way up a long ramp to enter the side of the ship. They did this through a door that was halfway up the side of the ship, between the water and the deck railing. Then we witnessed one of these soldiers throw his rifle, and his kit bags over the handrail into the briny ocean water. He then put up stiff resistance as his buddies and the military police ushered him up the ramp, and into the ship. He left no doubt in our minds that he just did not want to go to England.

To be continued....