1000 Men, 1000 Stories : Memoirs re Combined Operations

The Dieppe Raid: August 19, 1942 - Part 5

"Mr. Kirby's mind turns to ice skating in Halifax"

- Tuesday Evening, August 18th, 1942

There was a moon, small and pale, over my right shoulder that started me thinking of home and my girlfriend in Halifax. Back in November of 1941, I was ice skating in the Halifax arena, when I noticed a very pretty girl skating alone. I had never been out with a girl before and consequently had no experience whatever with the opposite sex. I skated around behind her for awhile, trying to get up the courage to ask her to skate, but I kept thinking, why would a pretty girl like that, skate with an ugly character like me. Eventually, I just couldn't stand it any longer, so I skated up beside her, took her by the arm and said, "You are just too lovely to be left alone here in this carnivorous crowd of sailors. I think I had better skate with you or you might end up with someone who doesn't deserve the pleasure of the company of such a nice girl." She laughed the cutest laugh I have ever heard, squeezed my arm and said, "What took you so long?" "Do you mean to say that you have been watching me, in my agony, all this time," I stammered. We both laughed as she slipped her arm around my waist and squeezed.

My heart pounded as we skated along as though on a cloud. "My name is A1 Kirby. What's yours?" "Lily Snow," she replied, and I thought, what a lovely name! We had a wonderful time, skating and talking and laughing all evening, and when I walked her home I made a future date with her. As I turned to go, she said, "Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" Well I didn't even expect to hear that from a girl....and I must admit, I certainly didn't have the courage to ask her....or just go ahead and do it....but having been challenged like that, I just couldn't do anything else but kiss her. We dated very often over the next two months and for me it was sheer heaven whenever we were together. She told me that her brother was on the destroyer "Fraser" when it was cut in half by the British cruiser "Calcutta" and was one of only six survivors. After convalescing in England for about a month, he was drafted to the destroyer "Margaree", which on its maiden trip in the R.C.N, was cut in half by a merchant ship and he was lost. She was, of course, greatly saddened by this, as was I, but we never discussed this tragedy again. By the end of December I was on my way to England to drive landing craft with the Royal Navy.

"Part of HMCS Fraser resides at HMCS Prevost, London, Ont."

It is now 2200 and our faithful Hall Scott engine continues with its unrelenting roar. The moon is getting close to the horizon now, but the slow, easy ground swell of the English Channel gives us a pleasant rocking motion that I find very restful. Some of the soldiers seem to be having a hard time with the motion and look a little sick.

Most are trying to get a little sleep. Our course seems to be varying between 130 and 140. I expect the variation is being caused by the long line of landing craft slowly slithering like a snake, but in the darkness I can't see this and can only speculate. At the wheel of the craft, I am sitting here in considerable comfort, in an upholstered seat, but my heart goes out to the Infantry men crowded in the well of the boat, loaded with weaponry and ammunition, jammed together as tight as peas in a pod, shifting occasionally to relieve the cramping, as we churn endlessly forward, mile upon mile, hour after hour....to what!

"Infantry men crowded in the well of the boat" Photo at Wikipedia

In my boredom, my thoughts shift again to better times back in Scotland. Stationed in Ayrshire, on the banks of the Clyde Estuary, at a Royal Navy camp called H.M.S. Dundonald, our landing craft were moored in the mouth of a small river at the town of Irvine. A fellow from Montreal, named Martel, and I walk through the town park one warm Sunday afternoon, passing the time and enjoying the quaintness of the setting. The small river winds peacefully through the park, and I notice a few row boats moving about on the water.

Suddenly I am struck with the sight of two young girls in one of the boats. One of them, a pretty, brown haired girl, is sitting in the stern, while, pulling awkwardly at the oars, is the most striking girl I have ever seen. Beautiful blond hair falls gracefully over her shoulders and toussles about as she struggles with the task of rowing the boat. I draw Martel's attention to this most fortuitous find and he immediately suggests that we rent a boat and attempt a rescue. As we dash to the booth to rent a boat, I make it clear to Martel that the blond is mine and the brownette is his. Martel seats himself at the oars and in no time we are alongside our quarry. "Stand to board," I shout as I leap into their boat. "I'm sorry ladies, but the exigencies of war require that the Navy take charge of your vessel in order to ensure safe passage to the shores of bonnie Scotland. If you would be so good as to allow me to share your seat, I'll row us back to land." The girls were dumbfounded, but good naturedly, went along with our outrageous assault, and we returned both boats and paid the bill like a couple of rich Americans.

"Canadians in Combined Ops walked the cobbled streets of Irvine in 1942"

"Camp Dundonald and Camp Auchengate were near Irvine's

dunes. Landing craft entered Irvine via river, top right"

(Top two pictures found on Facebook at 'Old Irvine')

"Barges would park in the river, near local pubs I bet (e.g., King's Arms Hotel)"

I asked if they would show us around the park, as we were two lonely travellers from a far off land, and they obliged. We chatted as we walked along and I was thoroughly enthralled by the Scottish accent. "Would you mind telling me your name?" I asked the blond. "Jean Smith," she replied. "Did you hear that Martel?" I exclaimed, "She says her name is Jean Smith." "I suppose your brother's name is John Smith." "That's true," she answered. "Well my name is Bill," I lied. I was so sure that she was just kidding me along, that I gave her my brother's name as it was the first thing that popped into my head.

The four of us spent a very enjoyable afternoon together and we made a date for the next afternoon to meet in the park at the same time. This aquaintance quickly blossomed into a very close friendship, and I found myself feeling very badly as I wrote my regular letters to Lily in Halifax.

Below: Modern day photos of Irvine, Scotland and environs (by GH, 2014)