A Flyer's Remembrance

D-Day - The Invasion of Normandy

About 15,000 Canadians from the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division, supported by ships of the Royal Canadian and Royal Navies, attacked Nazi strongholds along a stretch of about eight kilometres of French coastline, code named Juno Beach. Overhead Canadian Spitfire Squadrons of the Second Tactical Air Force provided air cover from dawn until dusk.

Canada suffered 1,074 casualties including 359 dead on D-Day. Heavy as these losses were, they were far less than planners had feared.

Return to Normandy - June 2004

I was pleasantly surprised to be included in the detailed list of Veterans to attend the 60th Anniversary commemoration of D-Day in France in June 2004.

The Canadian Fighter Pilots Association and the Air Force Association of Canada recommended my participation. The War Amps Association, the co-ordinating body for Veterans Affairs, included me in the "Back to Normandy" delegation as part of the RCAF contingent.

Of course when the full weight of the recommendation hit home, that I would be one of only 60 Veterans invited to comprise the Official Delegation, and only five would represent the Royal Canadian Air Force, I was both deeply proud and humbled.

My experience as a Spitfire fighter pilot in the Second Tactical Air Force during World War Two, in the cause of restoring freedom and justice, has been a compelling influence in my life. Sixty years after the invasion of Nazi Europe, the 11-day journey back to Normandy in June 2004, has served to cement that belief.

This, then, is the objective in providing this compilation, an opportunity to organise my thoughts on a profoundly humbling series of events both then and now. It is done in the hope it will evoke a better appreciation of the enormous role played by our country in achieving victory by the Allies in World War Two.

D-Day was the largest sea borne invasion in our history. As Supreme Allied Commander, General Dwight David Eisenhower carried the weight of his responsibility with him on that day in the form of a note he would have released in the event of disaster on the coast of France.

"Our landings have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have ordered a withdrawal of the invasion force," it read. "Our troops, air force and navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine alone."

General Eisenhower did not need those words but they hint at the burden of responsibility he must have felt on the eve of the invasion.

Return to France

The logistics required for our June 2004 pilgrimage to Normandy seemed to mirror those of the 1944 invasion itself codenamed "Operation Overlord." General Eisenhower himself would have been proud at the efficiency and skill in which Veterans Affairs Canada carried out our operation.

Four huge buses brought from England, where they are used daily by Chunnel travellers, were needed to transport the 60 Veterans, 30 youths and a dozen or so Veterans Affairs Canada personnel. Sixteen Veterans were in wheel chairs, including Ernest (Smokey) Smith, Canada's lone surviving recipient of the Victoria Cross. Others carried canes and portable oxygen. Each day we had a lengthy bus ride from our hotel to the various ceremony sites spread out across Normandy.

Ceremonies attended by our group were largely restricted to that area of the Normandy invasion code named Juno Beach covering some eight kilometres of the 80 kilometre breadth in which the Allied forces landed on June 6, 1944.

It was in these specific areas in which the 3rd Canadian Division had been given strategic objectives.

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Tuesday, June 1, 2004

Unbeknownst to Barry, I had arranged through Veterans Affairs to assign our accommodations together. This turned out to be most satisfactory as we were able to spend hours discussing the many aspects of our time in Normandy and the countless memories of so many fellow pilots flying Spitfires in the famous Falcon Canadian Squadron in World War Two.

Delays of all the incoming Veterans, caused by the same bad weather I had waited out, caused significant difficulties for Veterans Affairs personnel.

Barry had not yet arrived when I finally turned out the lights. However, a banging on the hotel door, brought me to fling it open, to have my old friend Barry Needham standing there in person.

We had much to talk about, not the least of which was the experience we shared just getting to Ottawa. I threw on some clothes to gain entry to the hotel bar so we could continue our reunion; however it had closed an hour earlier.

Not to be so easily defeated we ventured up the main street of Ottawa to a piano bar. It was about to close but when the owner learned we were on hand as Veterans going to Normandy for the 60th anniversary celebrations of D-Day, he kept it open for an extended period and joined our discussion.

Barry and I didn't know then of the incredible experience that lay ahead.

Wednesday, June 2, 2004

In recent years I have had the pleasure of participating annually in Remembrance Week activities by speaking to students in various schools about the incredible sacrifices of Canadians in general, and in the military in particular, during World War Two. It is a legacy bestowed upon successive generations of our people by a huge number of volunteers which should inspire young people across this great land of ours. So, along with commending the government for initiating this process I looked forward to participating.

Before leaving the hotel I took the opportunity to meet Jim Johnston, an Education Officer with the Department of Veterans Affairs. I spoke to several of the students sitting at his table, congratulated them and assured them of my desire to make them more conversant with Canada's Air Force involvement in the Normandy invasion.

Thursday, June 3, 2004

We touched down at about 8:30 a.m. local time at Evreux Air Force Base in Normandy after a seven-and-a-half hour flight from Ottawa. We were greeted individually by French officials at the end of the runway. A little groggy from the overnight flight, I recall a gentleman shaking my hand while introducing himself as French Ambassador to Canada. That made for a most amiable arrival!

We took our time walking the short distance to a nearby hangar. I waved to a small group of four people and received in response a sharp standing to attention and a very proper salute. Clearly it was an expression of appreciation so indicative of what we were to experience from the French people.

Evreux's story, like that of so many towns in Normandy, is a lengthy chronicle of fire and destruction. From the sacking of Evreux by Vandals in the 6th century to Luftwaffe air raids when the Nazis invaded the city in 1940, the city had undergone several transformations. Luftwaffe bombing had caused the centre of the community to burn for nearly a week.

Yet by 2004 the population had grown to nearly 60,000 and Evreux had become both a religious and administrative capital of Eure, the largest province of Normandy. It is also a military base for the French Air Force.

Some two hours later we arrived at the hotel L'Amiraute and our luggage was already in our designated rooms making it easy to freshen up before a welcomed lunch.

Friday, June 4, 2004

I climbed aboard with my two buddies, F/L Charley Fox DFC and Bar, from London, Ontario, and F/L Barry Needham from Wynyard, Saskatchewan, and joined three army Veterans as we entered the town to a wonderful surprise.

As we reached the outskirts of St. Aubin, it became clear the entire community was determined to make us welcome. The joyous, enthusiastic, wildly cheering citizens were unbelievably boisterous and friendly. Almost every home we passed was flying a Canadian flag and every youngster in St. Aubin was waving our red Maple Leaf obviously enjoying the opportunity to let Canadians know how much they are appreciated.

The experience was certainly more than we anticipated and yet there was more. As we arrived at the beachhead itself, a large group was awaiting our arrival together with the mayor and officials from the town. Another assembly of young people were anxious to demonstrate their vocal talent by singing a selection of tunes which they obviously had been practising for some time.

The Governor General of Canada, Adrienne Clarkson, arrived and very eloquently expressed the appreciation of all Veterans to the townspeople.

To commemorate the occasion the mayor insisted on meeting every Canadian in attendance and presenting a very special medal. For me the entire affair was beyond belief and I could hardly wait for the opportunity to shake hands with as many youngsters as possible and to give each of them a little Canadian flag pin to remember us by.

Our buses arrived for our return to Deauville and it became apparent the residents were aware of our timetable for they were very much in evidence to bid us farewell as we passed through St. Aubin.

Saturday, June 5, 2004

Courseulles-sur-Mer is the site for the Juno Beach Centre, a distinctive museum which highlights Canadian involvement in World War II. It also is but a short distance from Beny-sur-Mer, a place of special significance for me. That is where 126 Wing, comprising three Canadian Spitfire Squadrons were stationed in Normandy beginning June 19, 1944, just shy of two weeks after D-Day. Our airstrip, code-named B-4 was our base for 51 days while the Battle of Caen raged on, a scant four miles away.

We were to take part in a commemorative ceremony at the Canadian War Cemetery at Beny-sur-Mer. Few if any of the Veterans were aware of the special meaning that place held for two pilots, including myself.

In June 1944, there were 14 air bases in Normandy comprising for the best part the total offensive capacity of the 2nd Tactical Air Force including Spitfires, Mustangs and Typhoons, a fighter-bomber.

In the interval June 6 to June 18, 1944, 126 Wing was located at 10 Tangmere (near Southampton) co-incidentally also the location of the main plant for production of Spitfires.

We flew across the English Channel three times daily from dawn until dusk to provide cover on Juno Beach for the Canadian 3rd Division and the British 2nd Army. Operations ended at dusk as Spitfires were day fighters not suitable for night fighting.

On June 19, 126 Wing departed Tangmere and arrived at our first base in Normandy, code named B-4 and located near Beny-sur-Mer some four miles from the Juno beachhead.

At our new base we moved into tents, all numbered, each with a slit trench aside, which we used regularly no matter who was doing the bombing.

Everything was under canvas including normal maintenance requirements on our aircraft. In all there were approximately 1,000 officers and men at the airfield, larger by the way, than many communities in Normandy. Our strip was simply wire mesh, 60 yards in width and 1,300 yards in length. From that area 36 Spitfires, three squadrons with 12 planes each, were regularly taking off and landing several times each day.

As the Canadian First Army moved on the western flank through France and the low countries so did the Spitfire Squadrons comprising 126 and 127 Wings which were assigned responsibility for air cover. It is fitting to note our troops were not attacked by the Luftwaffe at any time. The Wehrmact cannot make the same claim.

By mid-September we arrived at Evere Airfield near Brussels for a short period. Then we moved to Holland were we were back in tents for the winter.

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What is a day fighter?

At this juncture I should point out differences between day fighters and other commands in the air force, particularly after the invasion of France. Pilots of single engine fighters were totally responsible for both landing and take-off. It was essential to be a competent navigator as often you would experience radio breakdown, negating any assistance of securing a bearing for base.

Map reading was essential for reaching your target and for low altitude flying to avoid anti-aircraft flak locations. This anti-aircraft fire cost us many Spitfires and indeed pilots. Combat flying required a dexterity gained largely from experience in manoeuvring the aircraft successfully and being proficient in air firing, which we practiced as much as possible. Being very lucky helped!

Within a day or two of our arrival after D-Day a temporary cemetery was established at our base. Indeed, it was so close that we regularly viewed the arrival of army trucks bringing Canadian troops to their burial site in Normandy. We never spoke about it but it was a constant reminder of the gravity of our task and the tenuous hold we had in Normandy.

Now 60 years later, I was within minutes of visiting the site which had been the centre of my air force experience, for so many reasons including the two months of observing the slaughter and carnage . . . the reality of warfare.

The Canadian and French ceremony at the Canadian War Cemetery, Beny-sur-Mer where 1,050 Canadians are buried, was most impressive with our Governor General and the French President speaking eloquently about our fallen comrades and the Canadian military.

It was on our agenda that the Vin D'Honneur was to be hosted by the Mayor of Reviers, that being the community in closest proximity to the cemetery.

To be sure it was becoming hot, particularly in our uniforms. We were obliged to walk a long distance from the cemetery, where, arriving at an old barn, the Mayor extended a cordial welcome and offered an array of refreshments. It was typical of what we were experiencing in France, and the timing was perfect.

It was late in the day and we were glad to see our buses arrive, for tomorrow was the actual anniversary day.

Sunday, June 6, 2004

A few hours after waking we arrived at Courselles and I was climbing the huge outside bleachers to await the arrival of the dignitaries, Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Phillip, Governor General Adrienne Clarkson and the Prime Minister of Canada Paul Martin among others.

As I reached my vantage point I heard my name being called and turned to recognize Muriel Williams of Veterans Affairs who was beckoning me to return. Retracing my steps, and concerned I might lose my place in the bleachers, Muriel asked me to read "The Act of Remembrance" during the ceremony.

"Muriel," I responded, "Thanks, but I don't know it verbatim."

"Don't worry," she said, "Just get to the dais and I'll have a copy for you."

And that's exactly how I came to be sitting with the dignitaries, immediately behind Queen Elizabeth II. Upon introduction by the Minister of Veterans Affairs, John McCallum, I had the honour of reading this compelling and solemn portion of the ceremony to all Canadian Veterans and to the thousands in attendance. My wife, sitting back in Burlington, and watching quite by accident on TV, was flabbergasted. So was her husband and yet, it turned out very well indeed.

After the service virtually every Veteran spent some time alone on the beachhead they last visited 60 years before, to reminisce in their own way, their personal recollection of that dramatic and emotional experience.

During the battle, along with all the units in the Second Tactical Air Force, 126 Wing pilots saw the area from a vantage point of 5,000 feet or so above the beach head while fully anticipating the arrival of the Luftwaffe. We witnessed it all, including the amassed armada of Canadian Naval vessels, and other Allied ships, troops and the ongoing bombardment the two weeks before moving operations to Beny-sur-Mer, Normandy.

In his closing remarks Mr. Chirac commented, "You Veterans must know that in this country, there will always be someone to remember you." It was a moving acknowledgement much appreciated by all.

Perhaps the one constant in war are the problems inherent with maintaining adequate supply routes. The Battle of the Atlantic perhaps best symbolizes the life or death reality of the challenge. In addition, the Mediterranean experience where for several years it required a two-month, 12,000 mile trip by water to supply the British Army in Egypt. The Nazis never did overcome their supply problems in North Africa or in France where an estimated 80 per cent of the rail system was destroyed by Allied Air Forces.

Two and a half million men, a half million vehicles and untold tons of supplies landed in Normandy through the artificial harbour at Arromanches. Remains of the structure can still be seen today.

These two days of remembrance were both especially tiring and emotional.

Juno Beach - June 6, 1944

Sandwiched between the British beaches Gold and Sword, the Juno Beach sector was occupied by coastal villages which had become pretty seaside resorts by the end of the 19th century.

The task of capturing Juno Beach fell to Major- General Keller's 3rd Canadian Infantry Division supported by tanks of the 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade and backed up on the left by No. 48 Commando of the Royal Marines.

Despite mines and beach obstacles, bad weather and hazardous reefs the Canadians came ashore at about 8 a.m. Tanks were late in arriving and infantry troops faced enemy fire unaided.

The Canadians managed to smash the German defensive wall to get off the beach. The villages were difficult to clear thanks to narrow streets but by the end of the day Canadians had taken Saint-Croix,Reviers, Tailleville, Basly, Pierrepont and Fontaine-Henry, and controlled a beachhead about 12 kilometres deep.

More than 21,000 Canadians made the landing joining up with British troops on their right flank from Gold Beach.

Monday, June 7, 2004

The Battle of Caen lasted for two agonizing months. On June 6, 1944 there was a heavy bombing raid and fire raged for 11 days. The central area was burned out, and people sought refuge in St. Etienne Church. During the battle more than 1,500 refugees camped out in the abbey church. An operating theatre was contrived in the monastery buildings and the dead were buried in the courtyard. Another 4,000 people found accommodation in the Hospice at Bon Sauver nearby.

During their attack the Allies were warned by the Prefect and the Resistance and these buildings were spared. The quarries at Fleury, one mile south of Caen, provided the largest refuge. Despite the cold and damp whole families lived like troglodytes until the end of July. During this period we lived in tents with a slit trench nearby.

The Caen Memorial

The people of Normandy, by their sang-froid, disregard of danger, without complaint or bitterness, endured hardships as great as any suffered by those from whom they awaited deliverance. Since 1945 there has been a continuing tie, with those who gave their lives for freedom and a special remembrance of the all too many and often too young who came, and died on their shores.

The Caen Memorial erected by the city takes the form of a museum for peace. It is primarily a place for commemoration and of permanent mediation on the links between human rights and the maintenance of peace.

The façade of the building of Caen stone facing Dwight Eisenhower Esplanade, is marked by a fissure which evokes the destruction of the city and the breakthrough of the Allies in the Liberation of France and Europe from the Nazi yoke. It stands on the site of the bunker of W. Richter, the German General who on June 6, faced the Canadians.

From the centre of the vast entrance hall visitors embark on an unusual five stage journey into the collective memory of events from 1928 to the present day. The main events of the World War Two, the causes and the issues at stake are presented in the light of the latest historical analysis. A particular imaginative display, centred on a spiral ramp, on such themes as the interwar years and the advance of fascism, the use of extensive archive materials including a panoramic projection of D-Day, seen simultaneously from the Allied and German standpoint.

After reviewing the massive conflict which until the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki mobilized enormous human potential, the film Hope uses strong original music to trace the alternating outbreaks of war and peace which have followed.

The Caen Memorial provides a fascinating insight into contemporary history for young and old alike.

(Excerpted from a Caen Memorial brochure.)

The time spent at this memorial site was unfortunately limited. It deserved much more but we hurried off for another ceremony at the adjoining Memorial Garden before proceeding to Place De L'Ancienne Boucherie and the infamous Abbaye d'Ardenne, where 20 Canadian prisoners of war were murdered under the command of SS Colonel Kurt Meyer.

Tuesday, June 8, 2004

It was not to be . . . for the following day Bob Davidson was shot down and killed in the Argentan area of Normandy not far from our home base. It came as a great shock, yet by the very nature of our involvement, it also was a frequent experience.

In 1994, some 50 years later, a request for anyone knowing of Bob Davidson, posted in our Canadian Fighter Pilots bulletin to contact a Norbert Hureau in Argentan, Normandy. Canadian Veterans were to visit that area of France in 1994 for the 50th anniversary of the D-Day landings. Mr. Hureau had a ring belonging to Bob Davidson that he would like returned to the Davidson family.

I communicated immediately with Hureau who turned out to be not only historian but was also part of the French underground in World War Two who had recovered Bob Davidson's body and undertaken a proper internment during the war.

We ended up at Mr. Hureau's home twice to examine an enormous amount of historical data before finally arriving at a school site to meet several other people. Finally, we arrived at the exact location where Bob Davidson was shot down in a hamlet named Courteres. Following a brief ceremony we progressed to his burial site in the cemetery of a small church in Lignou. It was a momentous experience for me regardless of how enduring it turned out to be.

There was however a final obligation unbeknown to me. We arrived back at the school we had started from, where a class of youngsters had been waiting over two hours to meet a friend of the Canadian pilot buried in their cemetery.

What a day, despite my arrival back in Deauville at 8 p.m. I can reflect that it was a very special for me to salute my colleague and friend Bob Davidson and to say goodbye.

Wednesday, June 9, 2004

Upon returning to Deauville, and following dinner, I had the pleasure of meeting for a pre-arranged gathering with the students from across Canada who were selected to make the Normandy pilgrimage.

I had not prepared any particular remarks other than providing a brief overview of the life of a fighter pilot in the Tactical Air Force. I spoke of our duties both before and after D-Day and my tenure at Queen Victoria Hospital and my return to 412 Squadron.

I made them aware of various members of the Falcon Squadron. I spoke of John Gillespie Magee, an American from New York, who came to Canada to volunteer in the Air Force and who later wrote the sonnet "High Flight," which now hangs in the Officers' Mess of every Canadian Air Establishment.

I spoke about the achievement and valour of George Beurling DSO DFC DFM, the top Canadian pilot in World War Two, who did his first tour of operations in Malta and later flew with 412 Squadron, and the great influence he had on my life and career. I spoke of his putting me in an ambulance at Biggin Hill airfield upon my fateful return from escorting American bombers attacking a German airfield in France, and regretfully finding his departure upon my return to the Falcons. I spoke of the supreme honour it was to acquire VZ-B, George Beurling's aircraft.

I brought with me a tape of the life of Beurling which was shown on the History Channel and which I had loaned to many people over the years from across Canada and even as far as California. At that meeting Jim Johnston, the Veterans Affairs official who accompanied these young people every day quickly resolved to get every member of the group their own copy. By any measure, having the young people learn of George Beurling, and subsequently receiving wonderful responses to my presentation, was one of the highlights of my trip to Normandy.

Thursday, June 10 2004

Her first words were, "Well, tell me about 412 Squadron."

I responded, "Your Excellency, we were a group with very remarkable pilots and one in particular had the distinction of being the most successful of all Canadian pilots in World War Two. Would you know who that might be?"

Well, she pondered a minute before responding, "Would that be George Beurling?"

Those within earshot marvelled at her, but she said, "You see, I grew up in Montreal, and that's where George Beurling lived."

This completes my story of Remembrance and my "Return to Normandy" as told from my own perspective. To be sure it was an experience I would never have imagined in my wildest dreams and totally fascinating in so many ways.

After my memories from 1944, I could never envisage Normandy to be such a beautiful and exciting area as it is. In fact the one disappointing aspect of the journey is the lack of time available to appreciate the breadth of interesting venues so close at hand.

As an example, I subsequently learned that the coastal community of Honfleur, a mere four miles distance from Deauville, was home port for explorer Samuel de Champlain who set sail for Canada in 1608.

No review of assessing our experience would be complete without first acknowledging the competence, courtesy and respectfulness demonstrated by staff members of Veterans Affairs Canada. They were totally remarkable.

High Flight

The Beer Run

On June 13, 1944, (D-Day plus seven) number 412 (Falcon) Squadron, along with the others comprising 126 Wing gathered for a briefing by W/C Keith Hodson at our Tangmere base.

We would get details of our now regular Beach Patrol activities, only this one had a slight variation.

The Wingco singled me out to arrange delivery of a sizable shipment of beer to our new airstrip being completed at Beny-sur- Mer.

The instructions went something like this – "Get a couple other pilots and arrange with the Officers Mess to steam out the jet tanks and load them up with beer. When we get over the beachhead drop out of formation and land on the strip. We're told the Nazis are fouling the drinking water so it will be appreciated."

"There's no trouble finding the strip, the Battleship Rodney is firing salvoes on Caen and it's immediately below. We'll be flying over at 13,000 so the beer will be cold enough when you arrive."

I remember getting Murray Haver from Hamilton and a third pilot (whose name escapes me) to carry out the caper.

In reflection it now seems like an appropriate Air Force gesture for which the erks (infantrymen) would be most appreciative.

By the time I got down to 5,000 the welcoming from the Rodney was hardly inviting but sure enough there was the strip.

Wheels down and in we go, three Spits with 90 gallon jet tanks fully loaded with cool beer.

As I rolled to the end of the mesh runway it was hard to figure . . . there was absolutely no one in sight. What do we do now, I wondered, we can't just sit here and wait for someone to show up. What's with the communications?

Finally I saw someone peering out at us from behind a tree and I waved frantically to get him out to the aircraft. Sure enough out bounds this army type and he climbs onto the wing with the welcome . . . "What the hell are you doing here?"

Whereupon he got a short, but nevertheless terse, version of the story.

"Look," he said "can you see that church steeple at the far end of the strip? Well it's loaded with German snipers and we've been all day trying to clear them out so you better drop your tanks and bugger off before it's too late."

In moments we were out of there but such was the welcoming for the first Spitfire at our B4 airstrip in Normandy.

The unbelievable sequel to this story took place in the early 1950s at Ford Motor Company in Windsor where I was employed at the time.

A chap arrived to discuss some business and enquired if I had been in the Air Force. "Yes, indeed," I responded.

"Did you by chance land at Beny-sur-Mer in Normandy with two other Spitfires with jet tanks loaded with beer?" he asked.

"Yes for sure I did," I answered, "But how on earth would you possibly be aware of that?"

"Well I'll tell you," he said, "I was the guy who climbed on your wing and told you to bugger off."

We finished the afternoon reminiscing.

Mistaken Identity

Beurling, to no one's surprise, regarded escort missions as non-productive from the standpoint of challenging enemy aircraft. So he proceeded to remove his name from the board detailing the pilot assigned to each aircraft and put my name as replacement, which was his prerogative as a Flight Commander.

For sure it was a distinction to fly George's aircraft but assuredly I did not anticipate what would occur as we landed at Manston Airfield on the east coast of England to load up on fuel before crossing the Channel.

As a member of the ground crew guided me into position and viewed the 32 swastikas on the aircraft he immediately called everyone within earshot while waving frantically to hurry over and shake the hand of the pilot flying the kite with 32 swastikas. He thought Manston had a distinctive visitor that day.

More than a little embarrassed by the misdirected attention I could hardly wait until my return to Biggin Hill and a chance to convey to George Beurling the excitement he missed by erasing his name from the board.

Accident - March 3, 1944

Immediately on collapse of the undercarriage my aircraft was consumed in fire and as quickly as possible I was able to climb out of the aircraft and stumble to the airstrip.

My first reaction, after seeing several members of the groundcrew running to my aid, was that they would not reach me in time.

Indeed I was fortunate as our Doc prepared me for immediate transport to East Grinstead by removing as much of the burned clothing as possible. It was George Beurling who assisted me into the ambulance.

I never saw him again.

On my return to 412 Squadron, he had left for Canada . . . but his last words I remember like it happened yesterday . . . "Don't worry Lloyd, you'll be okay."

It took four operations. Two unsuccessful ones at Queen Victoria Hospital in the United Kingdom after which I returned to my Squadron at Tangmere.

In all my complete tour of operations at 412 Squadron comprised of more than 200 sorties.

I then had two more operations on my return to Canada, ironically at the same site where I had earned my wings two years earlier at #14 Service Flying Training School at Aylmer, Ontario, which had been converted into a Veterans Hospital.

It took four operations but George was right.