Wednesday, 17 April 2019

This Blog Is Moving!

This blog is in the process of being transferred to

You can read my newest posts (and eventually all posts!) by clicking on BLOG in the top menu of my new site, or find it here:

Don't forget to bookmark or favorite the new link!

Saturday, 20 December 2014


'55-56 Parkhurst Products card of Boom Boom Geoffrion
(Canadian Public Domain)
Some people--including a few writers over the decades--credit right winger Bernie “Boom Boom” Geoffrion with inventing hockey’s slapshot, a weapon that Geoffrion had used to his advantage as far back a teenager in the Quebec Junior Hockey League. There, he had scored 177 goals in only 167 games.  By the way, they called him “Boom Boom” not because of the sound of his stick pounding the puck, as some people think. No. It was due to the BOOM of the puck off the boards when he missed.

By the time Geoffrion signed as a free agent with the Montreal Canadiens on 14 February  1951, two days shy of his twentieth birthday, the opposition and fans didn’t know what to think of this electrifying five-foot-nine, 165-pounder with the menacing shot. Especially when he was placed on the right point on the power play, a position usually reserved for a defenseman whose job it was to merely push the puck up to the forwards, so that they could score. The 1950s saw changes to the game, and the slapshot was one of them, although a few diehards tried to hang on to the past. Coaches felt the shot took too long to wind up, thus giving the goalie time to set up. Besides, it missed the net far too often. But many players soon adopted it. And the fans--the ones who really count because they pay the bucks--loved it.

As a huge part of the Canadiens devastating power play, Geoffrion went on to terrorize many barefaced and early masked goaltenders by scoring 393 goals in his NHL career, and another 58 in the playoffs. Twice he won the Art Ross Trophy as the league’s top point getter, including a 50-goal and 45-assist season in 1960-61, where he became the second person to score 50 goals in a season, 15 years after teammate Rocket Richard.

But did Geoffrion invent the slapshot? Not really.

Boom Boom was the first to perfect it, though, then use it extensively. The first recorded appearance of the unorthodox shot dates back almost fifty years before Geoffrion to 1906 and a fellow named Eddie Martin of the Halifax Eurekas playing in the Colored Hockey League, an all-black organization that thrived in the Maritime Provinces from 1895-1930. Frank “Bun” Cook of the New York Rangers also experimented with it in the 1930s, but used it only in practice. His teammate Alex Shibicky was actually the first to use it in NHL  games. The next player to use the slapper--shortly after Geoffrion--was Leafs defenseman Tim Horton. Yes, the same Tim Horton of coffee and doughnut fame.  Canadiens goalie Jacques Plante called Horton’s shot “the toughest in the league.”

Tim Horton (courtesy

Rangers Andy Bathgate was one of the early pioneers taking to the shot as he entered the league a few years after Horton and Geoffrion. In fact, it was a Bathgate slapper that led goaltenders to adopt the mask as their protection against the 100-mile-per-hour missiles racing their way. That came about on 1 November 1959, when Jacques Plante’s face got in the way of a Bathgate slapshot. Off the goalie went to be stitched up, while everyone waited. In the dressing room, Plante then told coach Toe Blake he would not return unless he could wear the mask that he had been using in practice that season but not permitted by Blake for use in a game. Blake caved in because spare goalies were not part of the picture fifty years ago. Then the Canadiens went on an 11-game unbeaten streak with Plante in net, climaxed that spring by their fifth straight Stanley Cup championship to close the 1959-60 season and the decade.

From then on, the game was changed forever, although some coaches were dead set against the mask. Blake, for one, thought that Plante had lost his nerve to play. Some fans thought the same thing and wrote Plante using some very colorful metaphors questioning the goalie’s masculinity to prove their point.

In the 1960s, Chicago’s Bobby Hull’s took the slapshot to the next level when he was clocked--using early measuring equipment--at 118.3 miles per hour, and his wrist shot at 105 miles per hour. In addition, his skating was recorded at just under 30 miles per hour. Hull was the first player to score more than 50 goals in a season when he notched 54 in 1965-66. Even by then, there were still some goaltenders refusing to wear a mask. Gump Worsley, Johnny Bower, Roger Crozier, Glenn Hall were a few who waited until their last seasons before donning face protection. One particular Hull shot off the noggin of Rangers Gump Worsley knocked the poor guy out cold.

Today, who doesn’t use the slapshot as part of their arsenal? Hardly anyone.

More recently, Boston’s 6-foot-9, 260-pound defenseman Zdeno Chara, set the modern slapshot NHL record at 108.8 miles per hour in the 2012 NHL All-Star Game competition skills. That same year, defenseman Alexander Riazantsev’s shot reached 114.127 miles per hour in the European KHL competition, although the KHL competition was taken from a shorter distance to the goal than the NHL. The next year, during the 2013 NHL playoffs, one of Chara’s slapshots broke the mask of New York Rangers goalie Henrik Lundqvist.

In a 2011 Bleacher Report, “The 25 Hardest Slapshots in the History of Hockey” were rated. On the list were three Hulls---Bobby; Chicago teammate and brother, Dennis; and Bobby’s son, Brett. Bathgate, Geoffrion and Chara also made the short list.  Al Iafrate made Number One.

*     *     *

I know about slapshots only too well, going back to my Junior Hockey goaltending days in Saskatchewan. I remember being hit in the neck twice, before there was any neck protection. I was also smacked several times in both shoulders, and once or twice in the collarbone. Several also went off my mask that stunned me for a moment or two. And they all hurt to some degree. I even remember one that I felt through my pads.  I remember the player, too--Vince Warner. Yeah, I had a couple off my cup, too!

And guess what? I was one of those foolish diehards who started out playing goal without a mask, thinking that nothing would happen to me. This was in the outdoor City Parks League in Regina in the mid-1960’s. I was 13 at the time, in my last year of grade school. In a game that season, one of the neighborhood kids wound up and hit me with a slapshot just below my left eye, right on my upper cheek bone. Talk about pain.

I was a one-eyed monster for several days. When my parents took me for x-rays, the doctor took one solid look at me, then glanced over at my parents. “Reminds me of a few shiners I used to get,” he said, chuckling.  It turned out nothing was broken, thankfully. I had a lot of swelling for a while, until my eye finally opened again, plus it displayed every color of the rainbow for the next few weeks. Red. Blue. Yellow. Green. And I sure got a lot of sympathy from the cute girls in my class. That part I didn’t mind.

Cute girls or no cute girls, I acquired a mask before the season ended. I didn’t want to wreck my handsome face.

Saturday, 6 December 2014


Whenever I watch the 1984 movie Top Gun and see Tom Cruise in his role as Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, I think of Canadian World War II fighter ace George “Buzz” Beurling. Why? Because these two pilots were very good at their craft as well as confidant rebels.

Buzz Beurling had another nickname. “Screwball.” Beurling was a committed Christian who didn’t drink, smoke, or swear. But that didn’t stop him from being a troublemaker in the eyes of the Royal Air Force and the Royal Canadian Air Force. He was rude and full of himself, a true mercenary, and a loner who didn’t take well to orders from superiors. He hated the stiff formation flying forced on him. He’d rather go off on his own and engage the enemy in his Rolls-Royce Merlin-powered Supermarine Spitfire.

Beurling was an instinctive pilot, and a master at deflection shooting, where a pilot fires ahead of his prey just at the right moment and the proper angle, eventually catching the prey with a deluge of potent shells. In the space of just a few months in mid-1942, while stationed with an RAF fighter squadron on the Mediterranean island of Malta, Beurling shot down over two dozen Axis aircraft, earning him such honors as “The Falcon of Malta” and “The Knight of Malta.” He is still talked about in Malta today, where he’s a folk hero.

Beurling didn’t need tracers for his aiming like many other fighter pilots did, this info confirmed in 1983 by Cecil Mann from Ancaster, Ontario, a ground crew explosives expert stationed on the same British airdrome as Beurling’s squadron. “Most pilots would use a ratio of armor-piercing, tracer, two standard bullets, armor piercing and a tracer,” Mann said to me. “Some preferred explosives. Beurling wanted nothing but armor-piercing, standard and explosives--no tracers. He always said, ‘I don’t need tracers. I know where I’m shooting. Just give me enough to do the job.’” A good portion of Beurling’s kills were as close as 250 yards away. Sometimes less. And he liked to use short, hard bursts.

Buzz Beurling recovering following his transport crash off Gibraltar, 1942  
(Department of National Defense, Canada)

George “Buzz” Beurling came into this world on 6 December 1921 in Verdun, Quebec. He had a strict upbringing. His parents wanted him to go to university and study medicine. He took another route by dropping out of high school and taking up flying. He obtained his commercial license in 1938, then flew for an air freight company based in Gravenhurst, Ontario. When World War II broke out in 1939, Beurling approached the RCAF, but was turned down due to his lack of education. Then he tried to join the Finnish Air Force (who were fighting the Russians), but couldn’t obtain his parents’ permission. Next, he sailed across the Atlantic in 1940 to enlist with the Royal Air Force. Trouble was, he had forgotten his birth certificate back home in Quebec. So, he returned to England a few weeks later and was taken right away by the RAF, where he went through extensive training.

Beurling worked on being the best fighter pilot who ever lived. Blessed with keen eyesight and excellent estimation of range, he worked hard until everything seemed to become second-nature to him. He and his Spitfire became one. As Sergeant Pilot George Beurling, his first posting was to RCAF 403 Squadron in Essex. With them, he flew his first operation on Christmas Day 1941. He remained with the squadron for four months, flying fighter sweeps and escorting bombers across the Channel. No real action to speak of, however. He was then sent to RAF 41 Squadron based in Sussex.

Flying “Tail-End Charlie” on his fourth operation with 41 Squadron, he broke formation to shoot down a lone German FW 190 over France. For such action, he quickly became unpopular with his superiors and his squadron pilots. After his short stint in England, Beurling applied for a posting outside the British Isles, where he thought his talents would be more appreciated and accepted. On the other hand, his superiors found this the perfect opportunity to get rid of him. Taken by RAF 249 Squadron on the besieged island of Malta, Beurling arrived in his Spitfire on 9 June 1942, after having taking off from the deck of HMS Eagle and flying 600 miles to the island.

On 12 June, his first time out in his Spitfire, in a formation of four, he was credited with a damaged German Bf 109. On 6 July, he shot down three Italian aircraft. Four days later he became a Malta ace by shooting down his fifth enemy machine. Four more kills came on 27 July. By 30 July, his tally rose to 17. For most of August and September, the effects of daily combat flying plus the poor rations, the heat and dysentery (which the pilots called “The Dog”) led to Beurling--newly commissioned as a pilot officer--being bed ridden. He had lost almost 50 pounds. When he returned to combat, he never let up. More kills.

After shot up badly on 14 October 1942, he was forced down over the water, where he pancaked his Spitfire, then was rescued in the dinghy he had managed to pull out before his fighter sank. With 27 Malta kills to his credit (the highest by any RAF pilot on the island), his time in Malta was over, his reputation established. On Halloween 1942, in route to England, his B-24 Liberator transport hit a fierce thunderstorm and crashed in the water off Gibraltar when the pilot missed the runway. One of only three survivors, Beurling swam the 160 yards to shore. 

Later landing in Britain, he was then sent to Canada to help in the war effort by selling war bonds. But he was a poor speaker and he hated everything about the tour, except signing autographs for his female admirers. Promoted to Flying Officer on 30 January 1943, he continued his promotional tour of the country, most of the time embarrassing the RCAF by telling the shocked crowds that he enjoyed killing enemy pilots, especially blowing their heads off. His off-the-wall “screwball” behavior may have been the result of battle fatigue. Or he could have said such graphic things just to get off the tour. What he actually really needed was a good, long rest.

Buzz Beurling, March 1943,
while on his War Bonds tour of Canada
 (Department of National Defense, Canada)
Returning to Britain in late-May as an RAF gunnery instructor, he was then transferred to the RCAF on 1 September, and posted to his original operational squadron at 403. The next day, he shot down an Fw 190. Promoted to Flight Lieutenant within a few weeks, Beurling stunt-flew a Tiger Moth at zero altitude over his airfield. Instead of court-martialing Beurling, the base commanding officer sent the pilot to 126 Wing Headquarters who in turn sent him off to 412 Squadron, where the earlier-mentioned Cecil Mann, ground crew with 401 Squadron, came in contact with him.

The undisciplined Beurling, up to his old tricks, drove his new commander crazy by refusing to fly in formation and engaging in even more stunt work. His final World War II kill came on 30 December 1943, when he shot down an Fw 190, while flying escort for a flight of American bombers. According to Cecil Mann, he remembered Beurling performing a “victory roll” for all to see over the base after one particular kill, his last in the war. By now the RCAF (and the RAF before him) had enough of their “lone wolf” and canned him for good.

By the time the RCAF had returned Beurling to Canada in April 1944 with an honorable discharge, a year before the war ended, he had been given the rank of Squadron Leader and decorated with a DSO, DFC, and DFM and Bar, and had shot down 31 and one-third aircraft, the highest total of all Canadian pilots. He also damaged nine other aircraft. (The one-third of a kill meant it was unconfirmed--an aircraft that two other pilots may have shot down.) Throughout the war, he had survived nine air crashes, including his four times shot down over Malta.

Beurling found civilian life too boring and couldn’t wait to get back to combat. Anywhere around the world. When he was recruited by the Israelis--during their fight for independence in 1948--to fly P-51 Mustangs, Beurling jumped at the chance. But the Norseman transport plane he was flying crashed en route upon landing near Rome. Sabotage was suspected, but never proven.

George “Buzz” Beurling was laid to rest as a local hero in the military cemetery at the foot of Mount Carmel in northern Israel. He’s a hero here in Canada, too, although a lot of people, I find, have never heard of him. What a shame.

Sunday, 23 November 2014


Jackie Parker, 1960. Topps© football card (The Topps Company, Inc.)
The 1950s was a great decade for football here in Canada with the addition of some outstanding American talent. The most versatile of all Americans coming north was Jackie Parker, who had rewritten the offensive record book at Mississippi State University before being drafted by the New York Giants as their 325th overall pick in the 27th round in 1953. All these years later, many of his college records still stand today.

Nicknamed “Ol’ Spaghetti Legs,” Parker crossed the border to play quarterback, halfback, and receiver positions on offense, plus defensive back in the two-way era. And that’s not all. He could place-kick. He could punt. And he did everything very well.  In his CFL career, spent with three different teams, he threw 96 TD passes, rushed for 68 more, and caught another 19. He passed for 16,376 yards, ran for 5,208 yards, and caught passes for 2,547 yards. He was Edmonton Eskimos main punter for three seasons, and their main place-kicker for three other seasons.  And he returned kickoffs for them for two seasons, too.

Born New Year’s Day 1932 in Knoxville, Tennessee, Parker was fortunate to play any sports at all, let alone survive childhood. Growing up, he almost died from a ruptured appendix and he caught a flesh-eating disease that nearly cost him his leg. Doctors wanted to amputate, but Parker’s mother refused the medical procedure. At Mississippi State, he was also an excellent shortstop, good enough for an offer by the major league Cincinnati Reds. But Parker wisely chose football, and he chose the Eskimos, despite a better offer from the New York Giants. One of the reasons for accepting Edmonton was that his MSU quarterback coach in 1952, Darrell Royal, was the Eskimos head coach, although he returned to MSU as their head coach for 1954. 

Jackie Parker, 1962. Courtesy Post Foods, LLC.
In his inaugural 1954 CFL season, sixty years ago, the six-foot-one, 190-pound Parker rushed for 925 yards and 10 TDs, caught two TDs and passed for two more. Parker then made the headlines on one particular play in the Grey Cup that November played at Varsity Stadium, Toronto before 27,300 fans, the first Grey Cup to be televised. With three minutes left on the clock--the heavily-favored Montreal Alouettes up by 25-20 and on the Edmonton 20-yard line--were going in for a TD to nail down the game. On the next play quarterback Sam Etcheverry handed off to Chuck Hunsinger, who was hit hard by Ted Tully. Parker, in the right place at the right time, picked the fumbled ball up and raced 90 yards for a touchdown, with Johnny Bright riding shotgun by his side, giving the Esks an upset 26-25 victory. The 90-yard fumble return is still a Grey Cup record today. Check it out on 

After the runback, Jackie Parker became a household name in Canada and a folk hero of sorts.  In the off season, he was then approached by the Giants who upped the ante even further if he’d go to New York. This time, Parker’s wife, Peggy Jo, stepped in and said she liked Edmonton better and wanted to stay put. Parker went on to become one of the biggest stars--if not the biggest--in the history of the Canadian Football League.

Parker was a huge part of the Eskimo dynasty that won three straight Grey Cups from 1954-1956 (as well as another Grey Cup appearance in 1960) with the revolutionary Split-T formation that had first been introduced to Edmonton in 1953 by out-going coach Darrell Royal. Inbound coach Pop Ivy tweaked the formation by showcasing it with a dual-fullback system featuring runners Johnny Bright and Canadian Normie Kwong, two players let go earlier by the Calgary Stampeders. Parker won Western All-Star selections as a running back in 1954, 1957, and 1959; and as quarterback in 1955, 1956, 1958, 1960, and 1961. He won six straight Jeff Nicklin Trophies as the West’s MVP from 1956-1961, and another in 1954. He also won the Schenley Award as Canada’s most outstanding player in 1957, 1958, 1960, and was runner-up in 1956 and 1961.

After the 1962 season, Parker was traded to the Toronto Argonauts for five players and $15,000 cash. He retired after three seasons, seeing the Argos finish dead last every year. As an assistant coach with the BC Lions in 1968, he appeared briefly as a player in eight games when injuries hit the other quarterbacks. Turning to head coaching, he ran the BC Lions for part of 1969, all of 1970, then became their GM from 1971-1975. Elected to the CFL Hall of Fame in 1971, he coached his old alma mater, the Edmonton Eskimos, from 1983 until two games into 1987, without a losing season. He died 6 November 2006 in Edmonton at age 74. That same month, he was voted Number 3 in TSN’s Top 50 CFL players of the modern era.

Pop Ivy, Parker’s coach for his first four seasons in Edmonton, who later coached in the NFL and AFL, and scouted in the NFL, knew how valuable Parker was to the Eskimos and the CFL as a whole. “I always felt Jackie was the best all-around football player I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, a few years after he retired from the game for good in 1984. “I spent 50 years in football and that covers a lot of people.”

Jackie Parker as a Toronto Argonaut. Courtesy Post Foods, LLC.
As a huge sports fan since the early 1960s, I remember how big the name “Jackie Parker” was. Although his skills had started to slip a notch or two by then, his trade to Toronto was still a blockbuster. Perhaps even a shock. The first time Parker came to my hometown of Regina as an Argonaut to play the Roughriders, I was there with a couple friends. According to the schedule I found on the internet, that day had to be 6 October 1964. It was easy to determine the date because during the 1960s the western teams and eastern teams met each other team only once each year during the interlocking schedule and they would alternate the home field. Actually, it was the only time Parker played a regular season game at Taylor Field in his three years as an Argo.

Anyway, I can distinctly recall that I had cut out a black-and-white photo of Parker measuring around four-by-five from the local Regina Leader-Post newspaper beforehand and taped it to the back of a piece of cardboard, then took it to Taylor Field for the game. While my friends and I waited patiently outside the locker rooms, I saw Parker and asked him to sign my photo. Although the Argos had lost 31-12 that day, the cordial Parker took my photo in his palm and carefully autographed it without so much as his ballpoint pen puncturing my thin newspaper photo.

Just one of those great memories you never forget when an icon such as Jackie Parker takes the time to sign an autograph for a wide-eyed, snotty-nosed, 12-year-old kid.

Monday, 10 November 2014


In the early 1980s, I interviewed dozens of World War II Canadian airmen who had flown with the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) and then put their first-person stories into my first two books; Two Wings and a Prayer in 1984, and Maximum Effort in 1986, both by Boston Mills Press of Erin, Ontario.

With Remembrance Day upon us, I’ve taken five excerpts from the two publications and have placed them here for us to reflect on and help us appreciate what these brave individuals--young men then--under combat conditions went through for our freedoms. These were real people, all Ontario residents at the time, not some phony, fearless characters out of a Hollywood movie.

Captured German Me-262 jet over United States, 1945 (United States Public Domain)

 RCAF Flight Lieutenant Jack Brown flew Typhoon fighters with RAF 193 Squadron:

“We attacked flying-bomb sites, radar stations, marshalling yards and bridges along the Seine in preparation for D-Day in Normandy. After D-Day we became a close support unit for the Canadian Army in the Northwest European Campaign. We attacked tank formations, ammo dumps, troop concentrations and enemy headquarter units.

I well remember what the D-Day operation looked like from the air. On the way over, we saw the incredible sight of a solid line of ships stretching from England to France. Just off the French coast was a formation of the largest battleships in the world, and they were firing shells inland. The whole thing was really impressive.

One of the most satisfying operations I was on was the closing of a tunnel in which a long-range enemy gun was stored. The Germans would take this gun out at night and shell our men on the beachhead. Intelligence learned from the French underground where the gun was kept and six of us in the squadron went over, three planes on each end of the tunnel, and with two 1000-pound bombs aboard our Typhoons we skip-bombed the mouths of the tunnel.”

RCAF Warrant Officer Al Bridgewater was a mid-upper gunner on Halifax bombers with RAF 158 Squadron:

“I was shot down over the North Sea on July 26, 1942 on my thirteenth op and it happened to be my wife’s birthday. A Ju-88 twin-engine fighter equipped with airborne radar snuck up behind us and raked us with cannon fire. It all happened so fast, we never saw it coming. Myself, the navigator, and the tail gunner managed to fall out just after our tanks exploded and came apart in mid-air about 100 feet over the water. The other crew members didn’t make it.

Once the three of us hit the water, we were able to stay afloat for almost 30 hours on one of the wings. By the second day, once the weather was getting pretty rough, a German sea plane found us and dropped onto the water and let out a dinghy. The weather was so bad that the German in the dinghy was throwing up as he pulled us in.

From there, we were taken to a German air base on Norderney Island, the northern coast of Germany, where we were put into some dry clothes. But it wasn’t so easy getting the old ones off. The salt water had stuck my long johns right to my skin and to get them off they had to pluck me like a chicken. All the hair on my body came off with it.”

 RCAF Flight Lieutenant Lorne MacFarlane flew B-25 Mitchells with RAF 98 Squadron:

“I had already finished my operations and was at Brussels on a “non-ops” tour. It was New Year’s Day, 1945. The night before we had all celebrated at a mess party, and the next day we were moving around awfully slow. We were just taking our time walking from the billets down to the mess, when all of a sudden we heard strange-sounding aircraft, then some machine gun fire. The airfield was under attack! We were on the edge of the aerodrome and we all scrambled for different dugouts. I got behind a machine gun.

The Germans shot us up real good. They set fire to a beautiful executive Dakota that was all fixed up like you wouldn’t believe. They shot up several Typhoon and Tempest fighter planes that were taking off. Some of them did get off, though. Then I saw a strange-looking enemy plane scream by that had an engine on each wing, but no propellers. And it made a whistling sound. We didn’t know what it was at first, but we later found out it was a jet, a Messerschmitt 262.”

RCAF Flying Officer George Williams flew Lancaster bombers with RAF 61 Squadron:

“It was the night of July 3/4, 1942. We were mining the channel between Helsinborg, Sweden and Helsingor, Denmark, a mere three miles apart, when we took an incendiary shell in the inner gas tank of our Lancaster from the German flak gunners off the docks at Helsingor.

We were at about 600 feet at the time. The wing started on fire and actually began to melt right off. The next thing I knew we hit the water! The aircraft tumbled sideways and everyone was killed except me. Being strapped to the pilot seat probably saved my life. The next thing I knew, I was out of the aircraft but I don’t remember how I got there. I passed out, then came to and realized the skin had been burned off my forehead. I tried to swim for a buoy in the water, but I couldn’t find my arm as it was broken and slung over my right shoulder.

Apparently, it was quite a pastime in that area of neutral Sweden to watch the Allied mining of the channel and the German anti-aircraft fire. At night the flak was quite impressive with its beautiful reds, blues, and yellows. So the people would just sit out on their balconies and watch the fireworks. A man and his daughter were out there that night, not too far from shore. When we hit the water, the daughter ran down to the shore and jumped into a boat to come and rescue me. Then she hollered back to the people on the shore—about 20 people had congregated by this time—that her boat was too small. So about three teenage chaps came out in a pretty-good-sized craft and pulled me in. They rowed me to the dock where an ambulance was waiting. I was then taken to a hospital in Helsinborg.”
Halifax Mark III bomber (United Kingdom Public Domain)

RCAF Flying Officer Frank Woodrow flew Hurricane fighters with RAF 261 Squadron:

“I took my training in England and there I met a fellow named Colin Fallon, an Australian. We graduated together, left the UK on December 18, 1942, and were posted to the Southeast Asia Command. On June 27, 1943, our squadron was assigned its first sortie. We were to escort a squadron of Vultee Vengeance dive-bombers to bomb the Japanese-held airfield on Akyab Island, off the Bay of Bengal. Colin and I were to fly in a section of four, led by Australian Flying Officer Norman Rankin. As we ran out to our aircraft, Colin gave me a slap on the back, saying, “Well, Woodie, we finally made it, after all these years.”

The flight to Akyab was uneventful and we encountered some light flak over the airfield. After the bombing was finished, we turned for home. Then I noticed smoke coming from Colin’s aircraft. He entered into a shallow dive and headed out over the Bay of Bengal. Rankin and I followed him, trying to get him on the radio but with little success.

We entered a low layer of cloud and as we emerged, Colin was in a spin and still smoking. We circled his aircraft, trying to contact him. We could see him struggling to recover from the spin, which he finally did, only to over-correct on pullout and stall again. This time he was too low to recover and after three or four turns, he crashed into the Bay! Rankin and I circled the spot. The Hurricane broke up and sank very quickly, leaving behind an oil patch and a few bits of wreckage.

As we headed back to base, I could not believe that it had all ended so quickly for Colin. After all those years of training and yearning for action, it was all over in one hour and 20 minutes, and he had not even fired a single shot in anger.”

These are only a few stories from my collection out of the many thousands who participated in World War II in all the services. Where would we be today as a nation without them?

We’ll never know the half of what they went through for us.