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Writer's pictureCharlie B

Updated: Apr 5, 2020

On September first Hitlers Germany invaded Poland, and Britain immediately gave Hitler an ultimatum which expired the same day and war was declared. Canada followed suit on September third. A strange quiet descended over our house. My parents were glum and were very quiet. I realized at age eight that something bad had happened but had no idea of the implications.

There was a scramble of activity on the farm and in the country. Rationing came in, especially for sugar. Farmers were ordered to switch production to emergency appropriate crops etc. My dad switched over to fields of high protein soya beans. More food animals were produced. Gas rationing was invoked early on except the farmers were given special supplies for their tractors etc. The gas was heavily dyed purple so if anyone was caught with this in their car gas tanks- and they checked roadside- there was a heavy fine.

Brother Don was in his early twenties and raring to go. He and two buddies went up to Calgary to join the Air Force. Don had been in bed for six months with rheumatic fever as a teenager and was left with a heart murmur. He was rejected for the Service and was broken hearted - no pun intended . He was told to go home to the farm and help the war effort raising food, much to my mothers relief. His two buddies were accepted, went overseas and were killed.

Many of the hired men left for war resulting for longer hours and heavier loads for those remaining behind. As the war progressed and there were increasing numbers of German prisoners an internment camp was established just outside Lethbridge about forty miles away. Many of the inmates were rabid Nazis from Rommel’s desert army and their officers ran the camp with straight arm salutes, clicking heels, and full military protocols. Dads hunting buddy the Colonel and his Veterans Guard were up to the job. There were no escapes. The Nazis ran a kangaroo court in the camp and one time they executed one of their soldiers by hanging in the camp allegedly because he was labelled a traitor over some issue. The head German officer who was identified as the judge was prosecuted by the military police, found guilty of murder and he was duly hung! Fun and games.


Prisoner of War Camp 133 in Lethbridge, 1942

Later in the war, by arrangement with the Colonel, any of the inmates who volunteered and considered no threat were allowed out of the camp to work on the farms. They wore bright blue overalls with a huge orange circle on the back for identification. Our cook for a while was called Franz, quite a well educated guy who actually emigrated to Canada after the war, as did a number of others. They were generally well behaved. One guy got depressed and hung himself in the barn .


When I was in grade five I left the one room school for the large one in Vauxhall seven miles away. Brother Don had an old truck and cleverly constructed a sort of a bus body on it with a back door entry. It held about a dozen kids. He obtained a contract to bus kids to the school from local farms. Seats were side benches. Since I was first on I sat at the back door and was responsible for seeing that the door was securely closed. The “ bus” circled around to multiple farms making the trip to school around twenty miles.


Truck used as a school bus

The roads were unpaved with gravel over a clay base. In wet weather they became rutted quagmires and riding in the back was like being in a cocktail shaker. Predictably there was lots of puking and we would arrive at school with a river of it in the aisle between the benches. From my position at the back door I was able to crack it open and get some air. When school was over Don would be waiting with the engine running to take us home. No after school games or activities. One day a kid who had to walk to the bus pick up had an encounter with a skunk. The bus atmosphere was impressive. It was winter so when we got to school he went and stood over a floor heat register and the whole school was sniffing and gagging. I don’t remember that the teachers found out where the stench was coming from.


So the war plodded on. One day I hitched a ride in a cart with an aged Russian neighbour  who had managed to get his family out around the 1917 revolution. The Russians had just repulsed the Germans at Stalingrad and I commented what a great job they were doing. He became agitated and in his broken English tried to convey that the Bolsheviks were very cruel- very bad- very cruel-no good !!  He was desperate to educate me about what he had escaped from and I guess you could say that history proved him correct in many ways .


   

My Brother Richard and I

School in Vauxhall increased my horizons. Not one teacher but different ones for various subjects. The government at war created an army cadet program. The 12 and 13 year old boys were outfitted with scratchy uniforms with a big red maple leaf seven on as shoulder patches. The uniform was to be worn on Friday only. In the afternoon we all marched around the school yard with wooden replica rifles on our shoulders. Once a month a Veterans Guard officer would appear from Calgary to inspect the troops aka the next cannon fodder if the was went on. I was a terrible soldier. I turned left when we were ordered to turn right. The uniform was ill fitting was very rough and itched and bound me in the crotch . Two strips of canvas with buckles were designed be placed around the ankles with the buckles on the outside. They were tapered so yo had to have them the correct way up also. I never seemed to get them on right. I guess they were a First World War invention to help keep feet dry in the trenches.

Writer's pictureCharlie B

Updated: Apr 2, 2020

We younger kids were very little affected and unaware of the events in Germany leading up to the outbreak of WWII . Maybe my parents knew but they never spoke of it. My dad would come in from the fields for lunch and at 1:00 pm he would stretch out and listen to the news from CFCN Calgary which was introduced by a long siren wail. Then the “ Voice of Doom” , the announcer called Lorne Green who later became well known on TV as the dad in the long running TV show called Bonanza came on and solemnly reported the world situation Our farm was a Mecca for an in group of fall hunters, many of which were in sales and service for farm equipment etc and over the years became dads friends. After the hunt a prolonged happy hour would take place which caused a problem in later years. Among this group was a burley Scotsman who was the chief of police in Medicine Hat. He ended up buying some land near our farm which he leased out. He was a decorated First World War veteran and great fun. In the war years he became Commandant of the Nazi prison camp in Lethbridge and was in full uniform along with many campaign ribbons on his tunic when he visited us. One time when he and dad were hunting I saw his beribboned military tunic hanging on a chair and dared to put it on and admire myself in the mirror .🤣


Age 4 with my pop-gun, Spot and a duck placed by my dad

As I got a bit older dad taught me gun safety and how to shoot. Any break in safety techniques resulted in my being banned from shooting or handling a gun for a while. I tried to match his shooting excellence a daunting aspiration. We had his hand made painted “ No Shooting” signs posted on fence posts around the farm proper to ward off passing hunters from being near the house or spooking the animals. In the car with him one day he stopped in the middle of the road and inspected out the window one of his signs on a fence post back from the opposite side of the road  which needed repainting. He alway carried a 22 caliber rifle in the car so he unlimbered it and leaning the gun on the window sill he sighted over open sights ( no scope) and fired three shots at the sign. He then sent me to retrieve the sign and when I touched it , it was loose in my hand. He had punched the three nails out of the wood !!

   

Me and my bag of pheasants, Chief (who loved dill pickles) at age 12 a few weeks before moving to Victoria

I graduated around age eleven, to having the use of a 20 gage “pump” gun , a “ladies” gun, for bird hunting and became fairly proficient with it. One of our favourite shoots was along the bigger banked irrigation canals. We would approach quietly hidden by the bank and after spreading out walk in unison up over the bank and if there were any ducks on the water they would flush up in front of us and he shooting would proceed. One trip with dad and the Colonel was memorable. The Colonel and I separated by 50 feet or so crested the bank, a pair of mallards went up, he shot missed, I shot, one bird down, he shot, missed. I shot , two birds down. Prolonged silence then throat clearing and gruff Scottish voice remarked “ good shooting Charles”. Back in the car dad was convulsed with silent laughter staring straight ahead as we drove off.




Writer's pictureCharlie B

Updated: Apr 2, 2020

Bathing and toileting facilities on the farm could be challenging. In the farm house my dad

built a small bathroom with a proper toilet and bathtub. This was mainly for the use of the women. Flush water was obtained via the irrigation ditches near the house in summer  There was a large refillable tank or cistern in the basement. In winter this Bow river water was chlorinated and trucked in, often being collected through a hole in the ice. So it was rationed. One shallow bathtub application served to wet down a number of bodies at once- sometimes several of the small ones at the same time. Drainage was into a septic field.


Us guys were expected to use the outdoor pit toilet, enclosed in a small outhouse out of

sight away from the house behind a hedge. Inside were two seats- a “ two holer” . One seat was for adults at chair height. The other for kids was half the height with a cute little bum-sized hole cut in the plank. No toilet seat. Bum freezer.


Toilet paper was rare and mainly for the house. The pit toilet was amply supplied with an old Eatons catalog which provided both wipes (not very comfortable or efficient) and reading material . I always

thought that the section on garden tools was a bit more scratchy. The rare occasion when there was toilet paper installed it was luxury.


One time my mother put a brand new roll into it and discovered it completely gone to her  consternation and aggressive interrogation of us kids followed. Same thing happened again. Culprit ??  A young calf was caught happily chewing the tail end of the roll until it unwound completely into its welcoming stomach. Cure ?  Latch on the door.


Another outhouse calamity happened when a small “wiener” pig who had the run of the yard decided to explore inside the outhouse. My brother suddenly came in, spooked him and he jumped up on the low we seat and fell down the hole. Great excitement although the pig seemed fairly calm. Vigorous lassoing efforts didn’t work. Eventually dad and hired men lifted the little shed off the hole and managed finally roped him and he emerged going out much browner and smellier than when he went in, screaming bloody murder. He then had a scrub down and a bath in the ditch. Back to latch on the door!


My sister Jean and brothers Don (hat) and Richard. I'm the little guy.

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