"Back in your arms again"............ reunions in Belleville in the autumn of 1945

I am back in Belleville in the autumn of 1945 with the home coming of the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment.

The photographs came into the collection from Mike Dufresne who lives in Kingston, Ontario and kindly allowed me to use them.

When I first came across them I mistakenly assumed that he had taken them which may well have added something like 30 years to his age and so an apology is in order.

Mike was quick to point out that “I want you to know I am not the photographer of these photos and I am informing you of this so that you will not credit me as the photographer as I am the owner only.”

Of all the images this is one of my favourites.

Countless photographers have captured that moment of reunion which more than anything marks the transition from soldier back to civilian, from fighter to father, husband or sweet heart.

And this one does it in an unsentimental matter of fact way.   Under the gaze of the officials who look back at the camera with detached expressions one couple embrace while in the foreground a father catches a few fond words with his daughter.

He is totally absorbed by the conversation with just a slight smile at the pleasure of the reunion, and as if to emphasise the moment his hands settle gently on both his daughter and his wife.

Like all good pictures you want to know more.

According to Mike, “the Reg’t arrived home to Belleville Ontario by train and then the same day moved on to the armories at Belleville.”

But what then happened to the returning soldiers and their families?  Did they return to the routines of a quiet Belleville, make good lives and help build the peace?

These are questions which a historian and indeed any one looking at such photographs should ask.

And in time maybe I will have some answers.

Only yesterday one of new facebook friends told me she came from Bellevile and that here her “older brother and sister have talked about the end of the war and the excitement it caused in town.”

So maybe just maybe as more of these pictures are seen again through the blog and the facebook site Vintage Belleville, Trenton & Quinte Region* something of the stories of the day the regiment came home and of the years afterwards will resurface.  I hope so.

Picture; from the collection of Mike Dufresne.

* Vintage Belleville, Trenton & Quinte Region https://www.facebook.com/pages/Vintage-Belleville-Trenton-Quinte-Region/395830067158776

Homecomings, 1945

I think these will be the last of the pictures from Belleville for a while.

Now I do have more from the collection of Mike Dufresne but these two perfectly tell the story of the return of the Hastings and Prince Edward  Regiment from its war in Europe.

The regiment left Canada for Britain soon after the war began and saw action in France, Italy and Holland and returned to Belleville Ontario in the autumn of 1945.

I have featured five of the photographs from the collection and each has its own story or perhaps stories, and while there are more pictures I think these pretty much make closure. 

And like all good photographs after you have taken in the image with these two you wonder what else there is.  Now if truth were known I don’t have a clue what else lies hidden.

For a start I don’t know who any of the people are and nor do I know what happened to them so we are left with just asking questions.

Of the four men one is in civilian clothes and yet he appears to share a bond with the other three.  

So are they comrades, and was he invalided out due to an injury?  

Which begs the question of whether the tiny lapel badge is significant?

The military ribbons on the other three testify to the action they have seen but all that is now in the past, and with all the fuss and noise of a homecoming with the town turned out to meet the regiment these four have sought each other out. 

I would like to know what interests them so much about the flag and the detail one of the soldiers is pointing to and for that matter what is being said.

Perhaps it is just a posed shot but there is something in the gaze of one of the four which leads me to think it is more than just a rehearsed photograph.

In the same way I am drawn to the other picture.  The couple stare in a relaxed way at the camera while around them men disembark from the train.

They seem perfectly at ease on that railway station and what I like about the picture is that you have a sense they have been caught in mid motion stopping just for a minue at the request of the photographer.  

And if it does not seem fanciful you half expect them to move off , thanking the photographer and mumbling something about having somehere to go.

There is much more that I could say about these two but none of it would be based on historical research, so I shall just leave them to their reunion on a pleasant sunny day sometime in 1945.

Pictures; courtesy of Mike Dufresne

It's the detail that draws you in, another Belleville picture from 1945

I keep coming back to this picture and like all good pictures it raises questions which as yet I do not have answers.

On the surface it is easy enough to see what is going on.

We are at Belleville railway station, Ontario in the autumn of 1945 and the Prince Edward Hastings Regiment have returned from the European war.

Of the two central figures, one is an officer who appears in many of the pictures while the other can be seen in a few of the photographs.  I would love to know what has made them laugh but that sadly is lost.

Beyond them there are other soldiers getting ready to disembark the train.  Some stare directly at the camera, while others seem more intent on getting on to the platform.

But what draws you in is the central figure of the railway employee.  He is one of two and the way they stand is out of kilter with the upbeat mood all around them.

Their heads are bowed and they stand apart from all that is going on.

Now I shall be careful and avoid any sweeping generalizations.

My knowledge of this period of Canadian history is almost nonexistent, which is an awful admission and one I want to address.

But I do have to ask why have they struck that pose?

There are of course many possible explanations, ranging from the shyness of the employees, to company policy about how to behave when passengers are disembarking from a company train, particularly when the press are present.  Or just maybe it is something less pleasant.

Either way my attention is drawn to this tiny little scene and I wonder at the social conventions of the period.

In much the same way as in the film of Doctor Zhivago where there is a scene where the young Zhivago is called to assist on a case of attempted suicide.  It is snowing hard and Zhivago and his professor go inside the house leaving the coachman to sit outside and wait.

Nothing you might think as odd.  But this is pre Revolutionary Russia, and Zhivago has just witnessed a brutal attack by the army on a peaceful street protest.  Added to that, the house call takes place against a backdrop of a social gathering of the wealthy.

The contrasts are all too obvious but I doubt that many pick up on the plight of the coachman who will sit for hours in the snow waiting for his employers.

There will be those I suppose who mutter “he’s going over the top and elevating a sixty second shot into something more than it is” which may be so.

And yet it is the tiny detail that often reveals a host of stories and puts the image into the bigger picture.  Well with this one we shall see.

In the meantime it is another of those unique records of the Prince Edward Hastings Regiment retuning home.

And there is no way that you can escape that sense of excietement on the faces of men who left for Europe in late 1939, saw action in France, Italy and Holland and were now back in Canada.

The collection is in the possession of Mike Dufresne who bought them in an auction and tells me they will be left to the regimental museum.

I can think of no fitting place for them to to end up and is a good reminder that all such images are part of oor collective history.

And it is worth mentioning also that Mike has already begun releasing them to the social network site,  Vintage Belleville, Trenton & Quinte Region.*

Now this I like not least because it means that people who live close by can see them, but total strangers from the other side of the world can also share this little bit of history.

All of which is fascinating, after all it is the stories of the "little people caught up in a big century" which bring the events of that period to life.

Picture; from the collection of Mike Dufresne

* https://www.facebook.com/pages/Vintage-Belleville-Trenton-Quinte-Region/395830067158776

With The Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment in Belleville, Ontario in 1945

Arriving Home, 1945 

Here are three of those images that pretty much speak for themselves.  

We are in Belleville in Ontario in the autumn of 1945 watching the home coming of The Hastings and Prince Edward  Regiment.

They had shipped out for Europe in the December of 1939, saw action in France in June 1940 and were part of the allied landings in Sicily and mainland Italy in 1943.  In the final months of the war they moved to North West Europe

Marching through familiar streets, 1945

Meanwhile back in Canada in June 1945, a second Battalion of the regiment was mobilized for service in the Pacific but with Japan’s surrender in the August the battalion was disbanded in the November.

Each photograph is a rich source of detail, from the informality of the disembarkation at the railway station to the formal march past.

So often the identities of the people in the pictures are lost but the second soldier in the parade was the Inetelligence Officer Farley Mowatt.

Pictures; by Mike Dufresne, posted on the facebook site, Vintage Belleville, Trenton & Quinte Region

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Vintage-Belleville-Trenton-Quinte-Region/395830067158776

Stories behind pictures, the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment marches through Belleville in 1945

I like this picture not least because it captures a confused moment when lots of things seem to be going on at the same time.

It is another one of those photographs of the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment during the parade to mark its return from service in the European war.

The date is 1945 and we are in Belleville, Ontario.  The regiment had shipped out for Europe in the December of 1939, saw action in France in June 1940 and were part of the allied landings in Sicily and mainland Italy in 1943.  In the final months of the war they moved to North West Europe, and were part of the liberation of Holland.

Now I don’t have an exact date for the picture but judging by the leaves on the trees and the presence of so many top coats I guess it will be late autumn.

It is  the platform party with its mix of uniformed men, civic dignitaries and the large wooden figure of a Native American that you notice first.

But it is the little detail that draws you in. So there is the photographer running to get ahead of the troops, and the two young women looking in different directions at events unfolding in front of them.

And then there are the two boys with their bikes almost oblivious to what is going on around them, having their own private conversation while the crowds applaud, the officers salute and the soldiers march past.

It is the sort of picture I would have liked to have taken, and one where you can go off and ponder on each of the tiny scenes.

Did the photographer get the picture he wanted, and what exactly was it that caught the attention of the young woman applauding?  After all she is pretty much alone in looking back while most of the crowd are preoccupied with the line of troops parading past.

And what is it that those boys are talking about?

All the time the soldiers are marching past and some at least of the crowd may have been reflecting on that previous war which took Canadian servicemen to the Western Front.

None of this is of course historically in order.

Speculating without hard evidence is not how history should be told, but on the other hand it is exactly what makes a good picture.

So I shall leave it at that, on a day when the Prince Edward Hastings Regiment came home, and the people of Belleview could celebrate the first autumn of peace in six years.

Picture; Mike Dufresne, posted on the facebook site, Vintage Belleville, Trenton & Quinte Region
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Vintage-Belleville-Trenton-Quinte-Region/395830067158776

Out on the highway in Orilia, Ontario in the summer of 1942

There is something iconic about this image to anyone who grew up in a city in Britain in the 1950s.

We are in Orilla, Ontario sometime in 1942, and with very little imagination it is the sort of place  you would see in countless Hollywood movies.

Here are the lone petrol pumps sat out on a desolate highway or just on the edge of a small mid western town.

The young men may work in the garage or like as not they have just wandered out to watch the odd automobile head out up the highway to somewhere a lot more interesting.

Of course all of this is just idle speculation based on nothing more than years of watching American movies.

In fact “"Orillia is a city located in Simcoe County in Southern Ontario, Canada, between Lake Couchiching and Lake Simcoe, 135 kilometres (84 mi) north of Toronto.

Originally incorporated as a village in 1867, the history of what is today the City of Orillia dates back at least several thousand years. 

Archaeologists have uncovered evidence of fishing by the Huron and Iroquois peoples in the area over 4,000 years ago as well as sites used by Native Americans for hundreds of years for trading, hunting, and fishing.

Known as the "Sunshine City", the city's large waterfront attracts many tourists to the area every year, as do a good number of annual festivals and other cultural attractions. 

While the area's largest employer is Casino Rama, overall economic activity in Orillia is a mixture of many different industries including manufacturing, government services, customer service and tourism.”*

And Orillia is where my friend Lori’s dad lived in the 1940s, and the photograph is of him and two friends hanging out in the summer of 1942.

All of that said it is still the sort of picture I might well have had on my bedroom wall at home in Eltham or later in one of countless student flats across south Manchester.

Picture; Orillia, Ontario, circa 1942, courtesy of Lori Oschefski, whose father is on the far right

*Orillia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orillia

In the fall of 1942, building for the war effort in Ontario

I like the way photographs slowly reveal the story behind the image.

Of course that story relies on the researcher to place it in a context and so here is that tale behind the picture as told by the Orilla Museum.

"Camp 26 

In the fall of 1942 over 100 workers with the Brennan Construction Company were rushing to complete the 
building of No. 26 Canadian Basic Training Camp located north of Brant and east of Park Streets. 

Over 40 buildings were being constructed to house up to 600 men. The recruits were staying in tents behind the armories on West Street hoping to move into the new Camp by October 1st. 

In late September Brennan Construction was given a new contract to build barracks near the Brant Street camp entrance for the Canadian Women Army Corps. 

On June 1st 1943, the first CWAC’s arrived at Camp 23 including the three ladies pictured here. Up to 20 women were sent to Orillia to relieve men for act of duty. 

During the summer of 1943 the Military held a track and field day at the C.N.E. grounds in Toronto. This running team from Orillia competed against other Military Camps in Ontario. 

The names of the men in back are unknown. In the front row starting from the left are Doris Charka, F. Roberts, Evelyn Jamieson and Dot Newton."

Picture; courtesy of Orilla Museum http://www.orilliamuseum.org/

The Canadian Women's Army Corps Part 2 ......... The story of Jessie Wright McKellar

In 2013, as part of its 100th anniversary, Lakeland College, located in Vermilion, Alberta, held a special remembrance celebration for the women of the CWAC.  

During the war, the military took over the college and transformed it into the western Canadian training centre. As part of that celebration, I spoke on behalf of the families of those women who served  in the Corps. It is my pleasure to share those thoughts with you.  It is really the story of my mother, but could also be the story of so many others.

I am the proud daughter of a woman who absolutely loved being a member of the Canadian Women’s Army Corps. Like most of those who volunteered for service, Lieutenant Jessie Wright McKellar was from small town Canada. Located on the Lake of the Woods in northwestern Ontario, Keewatin had a population of no more than 3,000.  A close-knit community, most residents were the first and second generations of Scottish and English immigrants.

When war broke out, Jessie saw her brothers and all of her male cousins and friends sign up. She said she felt left out so she moved to Fort William, Ontario, present day Thunder Bay, and worked as a riveter with the Canada Car Company making Liberator bomber planes.  But, when the Corps began advertising, mom jumped at the chance to do something she thought would be special, adventurous and more meaningful!  She joined the CWAC's at the age of 21 and never once regretted the decision.

Mom quickly became an officer and did her advanced officer`s training in Ste. Anne de Bellevue, Quebec, but was also posted to, or did specialized training, in Perth, Ontario; Medicine Hat, Alberta; Winnipeg, Manitoba; and, Camp Shilo, just outside of Brandon, Manitoba.  Although she was never posted to Vermilion, she met women who did their training there; and, in the early 1990’s, she made contact with two of them. Together, they recalled an experience that only they could share and understand. This meant a lot to mom.

Now, from a very early age, my brother, my two sisters and I knew that we had a mother who was somewhat different from the mothers of our friends!

• None of those mothers had a pair of military-issued, clunky heeled, reddish brown shoes that laced up the front; or had a bag in her closet, scattered with moth balls, that contained a khaki uniform complete with matching shirt, tie and cap.

• No one else’s mom learned how to parachute by being strapped in a chair on the top of a tower and freefalling to the ground.

• Only our mom could tell us about being on parade and leading her platoon down the wrong street, entirely missing the saluting party! Mom did that only once!

• And none of those other moms could drive a jeep, change the oil in a car, or knew how to replace that broken fan belt with a brown Lisle cotton stocking.  Well our mom could!

• We also thought it was pretty cool that mom could play reveille and taps on the bugle. And, no - that’s not how she woke us in the morning or put us to bed at night! In fact, she read us fairy tales and sang typical children’s songs.  It fell to our dad to teach us war songs. To my dad’s credit, it was only many years later that I learned there were other, more risque versions of those little ditties!

• I also remember mom telling us about having her IQ tested.  She said she was pretty naïve about IQ’s, and was quite surprised when the testers came back into the room and said they were going to test her again. “They were pretty excited”, my mom said. “They told me my IQ was 162  and they thought they had a genius on their hands.   But, when they re-tested me, my score was only 142. I wasn't as smart, after all.  Anyway, I guess they thought I was still worth something, so, they sent me off to become an Officer!”

• What really excited mom, though, was her aptitude test. It said she would make an excellent plumber!  “This made sense to me”, mom told me.  “I always loved tinkering with things and taking things apart.”  Well, she was certainly right about that!  A few years ago, when we were cleaning out our parents` house, we found all sorts of record players, radios, lamps and small kitchen appliances that she had taken apart…and never  put back together!   And as for that dripping faucet in the bathtub…the current owner says it still drips

• Finally, one of my favourite stories was before mom became an officer.  She was working as the secretary for the Major in charge of administration.  Instead of getting my mother’s attention using a bell, like all the other officers used, he would pick up a hammer and bang it against two artillery shells – presumably empty!

• What the heck - one last story.  I may as well tell you that mom even got her one and only set of false teeth while she was in the Corps.  These teeth created a story unto themselves.  Mom could chew bubble gum; slice through an apple - skin and all; rip apart plastic; demolish a steak; and cut through embroidery floss –count them- 6 strands of thread! Those teeth were amazing and they lasted over 50 years!  At one time, I thought they would have been an interesting curiosity in the Canadian War Museum. In retrospect, though, it seems clear to me that, whoever made mom’s false teeth all those years ago, had the secret to making the first weapon of mass destruction!

Yes, our mom was quite different from those other moms-and we loved her for it! The four of us always knew there was something special and respectful about having had a mother who served in the War as a member of the CWAC’s.  To this day, I have a picture of mom, in her uniform, in my living room; and my brother posts photos of mom and dad every November on his Facebook page … lest we forget.

 Mom’s memories were vivid throughout her life and she spoke of being in service with pride, fondness and humour. “At a time when many women weren’t even working, I was doing all sorts of things most women never got to do,” she told me.  She also said that women in the Corps did experience life in an exciting and unusual way: she met people from across the country; she got to travel; she learned and did things she would never have known or done otherwise; and she learned, and continued to believe, that women were capable of doing just about anything.  This was but one of the legacies mom passed on to my two sisters and me.

Mom has been gone since 1995; but I am very privileged to be able to honour and express my deepest thanks to her - and to the members of the Canadian Women’s Army Corps - for the service they gave and the paths they opened for their daughters and future generations of women in Canada, within our society, our industries and our police and military presence. They were trailblazers - and they are unique in the history of this country. “Dulcit Amor Patrice.”  In Love of Country, We Serve.

© Susan (Hillman) Brazeau



Photos of Jessie Wright McKellar are from the Author's Family Collection

The Canadian Women's Army Corps part 1 .......... an article from Susan (Hillman) Brazeau

I am always pleased when friends offer to contribute to the blog and was particularly happy that Susan who lives in Canada agreed to write two more articles about aspects of Canadian history. 

In the following article she says "this was originally a speech I presented at the 100th anniversary of the college where I taught, which had  also been the Westerrn Training Centre for the CWAC; and, also at the 2013 Remembrance Day Services."

At a time in our history when we are beginning to recognize and honour those who served in peace time and in more recent conflicts, there is one important group of servicewomen from the past whom I want us to remember.

I refer to the Canadian Women’s Army Corps, or, CWAC’s.


When World War II broke out, there was a quiet, but steady movement by women across Canada, to have the right to take an active role in the Canadian Armed Forces.

Not only did they have to convince the government of their worth, they had to persevere against the prejudices towards working women that was prevalent in Canadian society at the time.

In fact, the term “QUACKS”- which has since become a term of endearment - was, in the early days, considered derogatory and an insult by the Corps.

Nevertheless, these women persisted; and, although initially reluctant to have women do anything other than volunteer work, the Canadian government finally saw the advantage of having a female workforce with a fully trained, but non-combatant military presence that could free up more men to go off to war.

Thus, different branches of the military created their own women’s forces.   One of these was the Canadian Women’s Army Corps, and it is this relatively unknown part of Canadian history that is highlighted here.

Established in 1941, the Corps began to recruit the following year and officially disbanded in 1946 - five short years.

Two training centres were established: Kitchener, Ontario for eastern Canada; and the western centre was on the campus of what is now Lakeland College in Vermilion, Alberta.

All the women were tested for aptitude, interests, abilities and IQ.

Here are some of the criteria for a woman to be accepted into the CWAC`s. She had to be:

• a British subject, which all Canadians were at the time;
• in excellent health and weigh at least 105 pounds (or 47.6 kg);
• between 18 and 45 years of age; and,
• single, with no dependants, and,
• she had to have completed grade 8

     
Although a few of the women were sent to Europe or the United States, most remained in Canada.

They performed a variety of jobs - close to 55 different types by war’s end - including roles that had traditionally been carried out by women, such as clerical work, laundry, cooking and sewing.

They also performed in stage shows for the male troops, before they went overseas.

CWAC’s also served as medical and dental assistants, switchboard operators and cipher clerks.  Others served in some of the more traditional male roles such as radio operators, mechanics and drivers of trucks, transports, jeeps and personnel vehicles.

By the end of the war, almost 22,000 women served in the Corps.

Twenty-five died, while in service.  Most who joined said they were doing it for the excitement, for pride of serving their country, or to do something entirely different from what they were used to doing.

One such woman was the author’s mother, Jessie Wright McKellar.

Her story is told in Part 2.

©  Susan (Hillman) Brazeau

Pictures; courtesy of the Library and Archives Canada

When we sent children across the Atlantic to escape the bombs*

I am of that generation which was born directly after the end of the last world war and so I missed the mass evacuation of children from our cities by less than a decade.

Don't Do it Mother, 1940

But growing up in London in the 1950s was to be constantly reminded of the Blitz.

We played on bomb sites, took for granted the gaps in rows of houses caused by direct hits and thought nothing of the painted signs on the sides of buildings announcing nearby “Shelters” and “Emergency Water Supplies.”

A few of those EWS signs can still be found much faded but vital back in 1940 for the Fire Brigade in the event of bomb damaged water mains.

And a few old Anderson shelters have survived in back gardens.

But that vital few years separate my experiences from those children who lived through the nightly bombing.

For them, there were endless nights in shelters listening to the bombs fall and walking home the following morning through streets littered with shrapnel and broken glass.

Of course not every built up area received an air raid nor did they last the entire war but there were enough to make parents ponder on that simple dilemma of what to do about the children.

Since Guernica in the Spanish Civil War there was that powerful idea that the “bomber would always get through” and so even before the outbreak of war preparations were made for the mass removal of children and expectant mothers out of the danger areas.

Barrage Balloon, Chorlton, 1941

The evacuations began in early September, experienced a lull during the Phoney War when some children returned home and picked up again after the Fall of France and the beginning of the Blitz.

But there were enormous regional variations with cities like Manchester and Liverpool evacuating large numbers of children while other urban areas sent fewer to neighbouring towns and villages.

I cannot begin to think how I might have reacted to waving my three off to an unknown destination for an indefinite length of time.

All of which was difficult enough but pails when I consider the momentous decisions faced by some to send their children half way around the world.

From the outset there were private arrangements being made and the Government was responsible for evacuating 2,664 most of who went to Canada, and smaller numbers to Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and some to the USA.

There had been some official displeasure at the idea of sending children out of the country but in the wake of those private schemes in 1940 after Dunkirk and the real possibility of an invasion the Government approved the policy.

The cost was to be met by the Government with parental contributions based on a sliding scale determined by a means test.

It has I suppose echoes of the much bigger migration of children during the late 19th century to Canada and into the mid 20th century to Australia.

Bomb damage Nell Lane Manchester, 1940

And as someone whose own great uncle made that Atlantic crossing as a BHC I have mixed feelings about the programme and wonder what decision I might have taken

As it was the sinking of two ships carrying children and the loss of 77 young people in September 1940 led to the abandonment of the policy although private evacuations continued.

It is a story that only occasionally surfaces and has been eclipsed by the better known accounts of those children who remained in this country.

All of which brings me to that odd term Guest Children which like British Home Children hides so much.

Guests they certainly were compared to those who were migrated by charities and the Guardians of the Poor Law and the nature of their stay and their experiences will have been different as were the circumstances of their migration.

But here in Britain their story has fared no better than that of British Home Children.

I doubt that there will be many detailed accounts of who they were, what happened to them and what they thought of the experience.

Over here I have come cross one account and that is Canadian** all of which leaves some descriptions in a handful of books, reports in Hansard and references in the National Archive.

But then that doesn’t surprise me given that little is really known about the history of British Home
Children and what coverage exists has been mainly about the more recent migrations to Australia.

So perhaps it is time for more to be done on this side of the Atlantic.

Picture; Don’t do it Mother, Ministry of Health, 1940, and was scanned and released by the Imperial War Museum on the IWM Non Commercial Licence and barrage balloon on the Rec from the collection of Alan Brown, detail from bomb damage at Nell Lane, 1940, m09736 courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass

*first appeared in British Home Children, Advocacy & Research Association, April 2015 Newsletter
http://us9.campaign-archive1.com/?u=cf59015c214b8003aef25b130&id=4892649a2a

**Guests” not “Refugees:” Child Evacuees, to Canada during World War II http://www.cst.ed.ac.uk/Events/Conferences/documents/SmerdonCPaper.pdf