Research: Photos of Jack Trevor Come Together.

Who Had the Better Camera?

"These two St. Vital boys": Photo as found in

The Winnipeg Tribune, Uni. of Manitoba

Readers may know that I have been searching through digitized issues of The Winnipeg Tribune, a once-fine Canadian newspaper, for material related to the approx. 1,000 Canadians who served in Combined Operations - and were therefore "on loan to the British Navy" as mentioned above in the photo's caption.

I would say that a good supply of information about the Navy boys who manned landing crafts at many significant raids and invasions, from Dieppe to Normandy, can be found in The Trib. I have offered many articles on this site and they are available to readers by way of the 'click on HEADINGS' in the right margin. Go to 'articles re Combined Operations.'

Recently, the above somewhat grainy photograph of two Canadian boys "In Sicily" caught my eye in the October 9, 1943 issue. I recognized one of the two St. Vital boys mentioned in the caption. Not by the likeness to another photo, but by the name, i.e., Jack Trevor.

Jack's name is attached to one other photograph I possess, part of a fine collection sent to me by Gary Spencer, the son of Joe Spencer (RCNVR, Combined Operations), a veteran of Dieppe and the invasions of North Africa, Sicily and Italy. 

Caption: Jack Trevor, Sicily. circa 1943

Photo Credit - Joe Spencer

I thought readers might like to see Mr. Spencer's fine photograph. I don't know what kind of camera he used but the quality really outshines the one found in the newspaper. That being said, I'm very happy to have both. With details found in the news caption, I've been able to have some fun.

With a bit of legwork (translation - "googling") I was able to locate St. Vital. I've learned that it was once an independent city unto itself - near Winnipeg, thus the tone of familiarity in the caption - and has since amalgamated with that city.

Thanks to Google Maps I also discovered that close to Jack's former home address (i.e., 34 Hull Avenue) stands the St. Vital Museum, and they regularly distribute a history-filled newsletter. So... I sent along the two photos and the following (in part):

Jack was a volunteer in the Royal Canadian Navy Volunteer Reserve, and sometime before the invasion of Sicily (July 10, 1943; 75 years ago) he also volunteered for the Combined Operations organization and was therefore "on loan to the British Navy" as stated.

My father was the same, from 1941 - 45, and they may have crossed paths while transporting troops and all materials of war on landing crafts in Sicily and/or during the invasion of Italy (beginning Sept. 3, 1943).

In the second photo, Jack is likely onboard a landing craft, mechanised (LCM) or landing craft, tank (LCT), perhaps in the Strait of Messina between Sicily and Italy.

I went on to say that I would send the St. Vital Museum a story that might explain where Jack obtained the two revolvers he is carrying.

That story can be found here: Articles: Italy, Oct.2 - 6, 1943 - Pt 11.

Please link to more entries related to research at Article: Canadian War Correspondents on the Move

Unattributed Photos GH

Editor's Column: As Published in Norwich Gazette (6).

FAINT FOOTSTEPS, World War II

Sailors Work Hard, Play Hard in Scotland 

The Ettrick, used for Combined Ops training, at Inveraray, Scotland

Photo - As found at www.combinedops.com

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, says an old proverb. I’ve read that it means that “without time off work, people (e.g., young sailors!) become bored and boring.”

Canadian sailors training on landing craft at H.M.S. Quebec on Loch Fyne during World War II worked long hours - handling tides, currents, ropes and anchors until it became second nature. Then, for fun, some rolled in the heather, bent a few serious rules, and visited The George Hotel on Main Street in Inveraray, Scotland.

My father said, “Gambling in any form was not allowed in the navy for fear the losers might steal, but a friendly game of craps with pennies was going on one night when rounds were being made. Sailor Art Bradfield of Simcoe, the winner, couldn’t sweep the pennies under his hat fast enough and was caught and severely punished (i.e., confined to barracks).”

Those not confined hiked to ‘The George’, and played another friendly game that didn’t end so well for one poor fellow.

 'The George' still stands, front right. GH 2014.

“In our group was a seaman named William K.,” recalls Dad. “He also liked to go into Inveraray (have a beer or two, but) he was absolutely blind in the dark.”

Anthony Bouchard (Ontario) and Dad would take him on each side by the arm and when they spotted a bomb blast door (a wall of bricks to stop an explosion from travelling up closes or alleys) they would suddenly pull away from him and let him run headlong into the wall.

Doug Harrison writes: William would yell, “Where are you guys? I’ll murder you, ya bums.”

“You can’t murder us if you can’t find us, Willie,” we said. “When we had enough laughs we would go back to his side - he would forgive us because he would never get back to base otherwise - but we would get it in the morning.”

Wide beach - home to landing crafts, WW2 - extends south from Irvine to

Troon, Scotland. Camp Auchengate is inland from photo's midpoint.

Photo Credit - G.Harrison, 2014 

And in the morning all were back to work, unaware that within 2 - 3 months of those (almost) carefree episodes in the Scottish hills and hotels, many young Canadians would participate in an ill-fated raid. But first they boarded lorries and trains bound for their next training assignments at Camp Auchengate, situated just south of Irvine (on the coast of Ayrshire, a 50 km. drive southwest of Glasgow), with ample access to wide beaches and the open sea, where even bigger and better bash ups occurred.

“We practiced running our ALC up the stern of the Iris and Daffodil, i.e., train ferries,” Doug says. “Their sterns were nearly completely open, but with waves and a stiff wind blowing it was difficult to hit the opening.” (Like trying to park a truck inside a garage that is moving up, down, left, right, back, forth and sideways).

A13228. Lord Louis Mountbatten (Commander of Combined Operations, on right)

watching a landing exercise on the beach at the combined operations centre at

Dundonald Camp (adjacent to Auchengate). Here the men are making their

way out of sandbagged emplacements. Photo - Lt. S.J. Beadell, IWM

H11177. A landing craft containing a Valentine tank being launched down the

slipway of a landing ship (train ferry) during combined operations training on

Loch Fyne in Scotland, 27 June 1941. Photo - Major W.G. Horton, IWM. 

[P.M. Churchill is on left. See The Watery Maze, page 97; same photo?]

He then describes a day when conditions were terrible, yet expectations remained high.

“One day I just could not make it. I had a Seaman named Jake Jacobs and he said, ‘Let me see her. I’ll put her in there.’ He pulled the ALC back, poured the coal to her and crashed right into the stern of the Iris. There was Hell to pay.”

Fortunately, Dad escaped the incident without injury or a black mark on his record.

And Jake? In my father’s notes I read, “Jake Jacobs was a lead swinger of the first water and said he would make it back to Canada before any of us, and you know, he did. He wangled it somehow and after Auchengate I never saw him again.”

Without Jake at the wheel, Dad’s luck with landing crafts might have changed for the better - had King George VI not popped ‘round.

Please link to the Opinion entries at The Norwich Gazette.

Please link to Editor's Column: As Published in Norwich Gazette (5).

Unattributed Photos GH

Articles: Italy, Oct. 2-6, 1943 - Pt 11.

Final Days for Canadian Sailors in Italy

Charlie Sellick (left) and Jim Ivison with revolvers, likely from

an AMGOT store in Italy, Sept. 1943. More details below.

Photo - From Collection of Joe Spencer (Comb. Ops.)

Introduction:

While Allied vs Axis forces planned new offensive and defensive measures in Italy in early October 1943, the Canadians in Combined Operations - operating landing crafts and transporting all materials of war between, e.g., Messina, Sicily and Reggio di Calabria, Italy - were likely wondering if their job was coming to an end and orders to return to England were in the offing.

Not many details about their final days in the Mediterranean are available - but there are some and are provided amongst the news clippings from The Winnipeg Tribune below.

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A very optimistic forecast re the Allied occupation of Rome was provided in early October, 1943. Allied forces did occupy Rome eventually, but the official date was but one day earlier than D-Day Normandy, 9 months in the future! Please link to Rome's occupation.

Bath Day For Pats: Relax now, boys. You'll be slugging it out in Italy for another 9 months:

Details about Canadian Navy boys (members of RCNVR and Combined Operations) who transported troops and their supplies - from early September to early October, 1943 - are provided by Lloyd Evans, formerly of Markham, Ontario:

Most days in Malta were bright and sunny and one particular day in early September of 1943 was no exception. I, and a crew of 4, found ourselves back in our landing craft on a northerly tack.

We had several escort vessels and after a few hours under way all hell broke loose when about 60 enemy bombers dropped their loads all over the place. They were flying low enough for us to clearly see their bomb doors opening and their bombs being released. Fortunately they didn’t hit anything and soon departed the scene when heavy A.A. fire threatened their safety... or perhaps they didn’t think a bunch of empty landing craft was worth the risk of being shot down. It soon became clear that we were heading back to Sicily for the invasion of Italy. By this time Sicily was firmly in Allied hands.

We spent a couple of days in the harbours of Augusta and Catania and then to Messina for the attack on Italy itself. We went in at Reggio with our load of Canadian troops under a very heavy allied artillery barrage from the hills of Messina. There appeared to be little or no opposition. We later found out that Italy had already agreed to surrender but hadn’t announced it to wrong foot the Germans. The deception worked since the Germans did not reinforce the positions vacated by the Italians. I can still see the Sicilians running around cheering 'Benito et finito' [Benito (Musellini: sic) is finished]. To celebrate one of the locals dug up a bottle of great wine he had buried to keep it safe from the Germans.

Allied forces advanced quite rapidly so another unplanned landing further up the coast was set in motion. The object this time was to land supplies for the advancing Allied forces and our flotilla was one of several selected for the job. While we waited on a safe beach for the signal to leave a few large warships, including a battleship, went past at high speed. Their mission was to shell the new landing beach before we moved in during the night. The waves they created started to wash the landing craft off the beach so I winched the door up a little prior to ramming the craft back onto the beach. 

Unfortunately I left the safety catch off the winch handle and the next wave lifted the boat and I took the full force of the spinning winch handle on my left leg before I could remove it. One of the other boys made a similar mistake but this time with the kedge anchor winch. It hit him on the head to his severe injury. An Italian surgeon inserted a steel plate in his skull to repair the damage. Since this landing was not part of the original plan there was little reliable intelligence as to enemy defences. An LCI was sent in to investigate but luck was against them as the beach was defended by some top German artillery units and the craft was destroyed. The landing was called off.

Three of us decided to do a little sightseeing when the other crew were on duty on our craft. We visited Reggia di Calabria and called in on a police station with a letter requisitioning any guns we wanted. Under the occupation rules and regulations locals had to turn in any weapons they held. To make the letter look authentic we stamped it with an official looking mark...the stamp having been made out of a potato.

As we suspected the local police couldn’t read English and they fell for it. Most of the weapons looked like antiques from the Boer war but I managed to get a lovely little Baretta ladies gun that I later sold to an American sailor in Gibraltar.

Lloyd Evans' memoirs can be found at Combined Operations Command.

Combined Operations Command is a detailed, informative website established and maintained by Geoff Slee of Scotland. Visit his website combinedops.com often for details related to "all things Combined Ops!"

The story related to the sinking of H.M.C.S. St. Croix and one other vessel is linked to the Canadians who served in Combined Operations because of the "one sole survivor, Stoker W.A. Fisher of Alberta." 

W.A. Fisher is not only mentioned below, but also in the previous post related to news articles from The Winnipeg Tribune (link to "146 Canadian Tars Lost").

More details about Stoker W.A. Fisher appeared many years later when my father wrote his Navy memoirs. He recalled meeting W.A. Fisher on Vancouver Island while serving at a Combined Operations training centre at Comox, in 1944 - 45.

My father writes:

Wm. Fischer (sic), a stoker (not of Combined Ops but of R.C.N.V.R.), was stationed there (i.e., Givenchy III, Comox).

He had, I believe, an unequalled experience. He was on an Atlantic convoy run, on H.M.C.S. St. Croix, and one night in rough seas the St. Croix was sunk and he was the lone survivor. His life jacket had lights on and later he was picked up by the English ship H.M.S. Itchen. It in turn was torpedoed and Fischer was one of three survivors.

They took him and his wife on saving bond tours, etc., but when he was asked to go to sea again, he said he would go to cells first. With an experience like that I would have too. He was lucky to be alive. (Page 41, "DAD, WELL DONE")

While Allied and Axis formations dealt with offence and defence in Italy, crews manning landing crafts enjoyed days off. Doug Harrison (RCNVR, Combined Ops.) writes:

We had some days off and we travelled, did some sight seeing, e.g., visiting German graves. We met Sicilian prisoners walking home disconsolately, stopped them, and took sidearms from any officer. We saw oxen still being used as draft animals when we were there. Sometimes we went to Italy and to Allied Military Government of Occupied Territory depot (AMGOT). They later changed that name because in Italian it meant shi-!

While a couple of ratings kept the man in charge of all the revolvers busy, we picked out a lot of dandies. If he caught us we were ready. We had chits made out, i.e., “Please supply this rating with sidearms,” signed Captain P.T. Gear or Captain B.M. Lever, after the Breech Mechanism Lever on a large gun. (Page 36, "DAD, WELL DONE")

Mr. Harrison continues with some details about leaving Italy, bound for England, early October, 1943:

After our work from Sicily to Italy was done and our armies were advancing we returned to Malta. We stayed but a few days, then took MT boats to Bougie in Algiers, and were soon after loaded onto a Dutch ship, the Queen Emma. The ship had been bombed and strafed, her propellor shaft was bent and we could only make eight knots an hour under very rough conditions. Her super structure was easily half inch steel, and in various places where shrapnel had struck I could see holes that looked like a hole punched in butter with a hot poker, like it had just melted.

We arrived at H.M.C.S. Niobe barracks in Scotland and in true navy style were put on a train and sent to Lowestoft in England, not too far from Norwich, England (my hometown’s namesake or visa versa) on or near the east coast.

I heard mess deck buzz. We were getting a lot of money and going on leave. The stipulated time for ratings is twenty-four months overseas and we were closing in. No more raids. Thanks God, for pulling me through. The mess deck buzz proved to be correct, they gave us all a pile of money (pound notes), and I thought it was too many for me because I made a big allotment to my mother. How they ever kept track of our pay I’ll never know, and to my dying day I will believe they gypped me right up to here.

....Away I went on leave, never bothering to answer a ton of mail. I also received eight hundred cigarettes.

We were due for a do and we did it up brown. You couldn’t possibly lose me in London, England even when I was three sheets to the wind. No way. (Pages 36 - 37, "DAD, WELL DONE")

Later in his memoirs, D. Harrison adds the following:

After a few weeks of ferrying supplies from near Messina to Reggio, we returned to Africa and again to England in October; some were well-laden with side arms picked up at AMGOT stores (Allied Military Government of Occupied Territory). This group returned to Canada, landing at Halifax on December 6, 1943 after two years of overseas service. (Page 75, "DAD, WELL DONE")

The following news column comes from the collection of my father Doug Harrison:

THE INVASION OF ITALY AND CHRISTMAS IN CANADA

It was no different touching down on the Italian beach at Reggio di Calabria at around midnight, September 3, 1943 than on previous invasions. Naturally we felt our way slowly to our landing place. Everything was strangely quiet and we Canadian sailors were quite tense, expecting to be fired upon, but we touched down safely, discharged our cargo and left as orderly and quietly as possible.

In the morning light on our second trip to Italy across seven miles of the Messina Straits we saw how the Allied artillery barrage across the straits had levelled every conceivable thing; not a thing moved, the devastation was unbelievable and from day one we had no problems; it was easy come, easy go from Sicily to Italy.

Invasion of Italy, Operation Baytown, September 3rd, 1943

Photo credit - Link - W. S. MacLeod, RAF Beach Units

We operated our landing craft under these conditions with skeleton crews and we enjoyed time off. Some of us went to Italy, hitched rides on army trucks, went as far as we were allowed to go and had a good look at some of Italy. We lived on the edge, because not far from the shoulder of the asphalt road were high cliffs and we could look down on the Adriatic sea, its beautiful beaches and menacing rocks.

I remember one of the many refugees of war, a barefoot lady dressed in a black sleeveless dress, carrying a huge black trunk on her head. I suppose it contained all her earthly belongings or it was very dear to her, and she walked along the coastal road back toward Reggio, to what, I’ll never know. I couldn’t have carried that load.

Our living quarters was a huge Sicilian home (in Messina) and some nights I slept on my hammock on a beautifully patterned marble floor. How-ever, since that was a hard bunk I sometimes slung my hammock, covered with mosquito netting, between two orange trees in the immense yard. Canned food was quite plentiful now and several young Sicilian boys, quite under-nourished, came begging for handouts, especially chocolota, as they called our chocolate bars.

I took a boy about 11 years old under my wing when off duty. In one corner of the yard was a low, square, cement-walled affair complete with a cement floor, tap and drain hole. It was here I introduced “Peepo” to Ivory soap, Colgate toothpaste and hair tonic for his short, shiny, ringletted black hair. My name was “Do-go” which I am still called today at navy reunions, and this boy really shone when I had finished his toilet. Peepo wasn’t too keen on soap and water and it certainly was obvious, but not for long.

I tried to learn some of his language, and he mine (the Canadian Marina). Although we were from countries thousands of miles apart, the war had brought us together and we got along famously. He and I also wandered about Messina. I went with Peepo to meet his Mamma. I took some canned food, chocolota and compost tea, a complete tea in a can exactly like a sardine can, with a key attached as well. Although the lad’s mother was forty-ish, she appeared older. Over a cup of tea, and with difficulty, Mrs. Guiseppe said she would do some laundry for me, and mending.

In order to heat water and cook a bit, our fellows cut large metal hardtack biscuit tins in half, filled them with sand, poured on gasoline and cooked to their heart’s content. The hardtack biscuits are a story in themselves, hard as a rock even after soaking in compost tea. I think some tins were marked 1917.

Some of the Sicilian homes were but hovels, with dirt floors, complete with goats, donkeys, and chickens in the kitchen. The population drank wine at meals as we would tea. I saw wagons being pulled by oxen. Wine (vino) in wooden barrels was everywhere and our flotilla tapped the odd barrel.

In the navy we just acquired things. A tent was set up on the beach after we acquired some salves, soap and gauze to treat the locals who had rashes and cuts, etc. The word spread about the Canadian Marina Hospital and one morning a few days after we opened, two very pregnant ladies appeared. The work of mercy ended, and very quickly I might add, amidst our embarrassment.

One evening an officer and I went on a short foray and acquired a few chickens. The officer had a cook, and I thought of home as I enjoyed a couple of drumsticks in payment for my part in the acquisition. (Oh! We left some chickens for the owner.)

About half of the Canadian sailors went back to England after the Sicilian campaign. That left about 125 to work about a month across the straits. During that time we received mail and parcels. We worked alongside captured Italian and Sicilian soldiers who were loading our landing craft, egged on by Sweet Caporal cigarettes and some canned food. There were no P.O.W. camps and prisoners wandered freely. The Germans had made good their well-planned escape ahead of the invasion. On occasion during the action along the beaches at Sicily and the quieter time at Italy, we often saw big green turtles swimming about. They didn’t know there was a war on.

Some buddies and I spent my 23rd birthday singing our lungs out in a cottage-style house near the beach, complete with a piano but incomplete with no roof. I had my guitar along and we all had some vino. About midnight with the hilarity in full swing, thunder rolled, the skies opened and the first rain in months came pouring in. Soaked inside and out we headed to where we belonged, singing “Show Me the Way to Go Home” as big as life and twice as natural.

One night shortly after that event I was all snug in my hammock, mosquito netting all tucked in (it took a while). I was ready to drop off to sleep when all hell broke loose on the beach. Machine gun fire, tracer bullets drawing colourful arcs in the dark sky. Someone shook my hammock and asked if I was coming to the beach party - Italy had thrown in the sponge. I said, “No, I’m not coming, and would you please keep it down to a dull roar because I want to log some sleep.”

After about a month Do-go had a tearful goodbye with his friend Peepo. He stood on the beach and I on my landing craft, waving our goodbyes. What a strange war. I have thought of him often.

Our flotilla went back to Malta for a few days and from there we took fast Motor Torpedo boats to Bougie in North Africa and boarded a Dutch ship, the Queen Emma, whose propellor shaft was bent from a near miss with a bomb. In convoy we made about eight knots up the Mediterranean to Gibraltar, anchored inside the submarine nets for a couple of days, and slowly moved out one night for England.

In true navy fashion, after landing at Gourock, near our Canadian barracks H.M.C.S. Niobe in Greenock, we entrained for a barracks at Lowestoffe, where on a clear day the church spires of Norwich could be seen. We spent a month there, then went by train to Niobe, received two new uniforms and a ticket aboard the Aquitania, arriving safely at Halifax on December 6th, 1943. I had a wonderful Christmas at home with Mother and family. It was sure nice to walk down Main Street and meet the people. (Pages 114 - 117, "DAD, WELL DONE")

Chuck ‘Rosie’ Rose, Don ‘Westy’ Westbrook aboard the Aquitania

The Aquitania arrived “safely at Halifax on December 6th, 1943”

Attention! Attention!

High praise ahead for Canadians on landing crafts! (Many are soon to be heading back to Canada).

Please link to Articles: Italy, Sept. 28 - Oct.1, 1943 - Pt 10.

Unattributed Photos GH.

Editor's Column: As Published in Norwich Gazette (5).

[Photo: Editor is on the long and winding road to Inveraray, Scotland]

Introduction:

I recently made an agreement to write 24 columns for the Norwich Gazette, my father's hometown newspaper. In the 1990s he wrote for his favourite weekly upon a variety of subjects, but the most significant columns, in my opinion, were about his time with RCNVR and Combined Operations during World War 2.

In the bi-monthly column I will share many details related to his training in Canada and the U.K. and subsequent involvement in significant raids and invasions - between enlistment in June, 1941 and discharge, September 5, 1945 - under the able direction of the Combined Operations organization.

Column 5 follows, as published in The Norwich Gazette.

Lovely Scenery and Good Training in Scotland

The small, charming town of Inveraray sits on the shore of Loch Fyne, a lovely, narrow, long stretch of water - longer even than Loch Long - about 90 scenic minutes by car northwest of Glasgow, Scotland.

Loch Fyne possesses many isolated, shallow beaches, and beside them many large camps were built during WWII where sailors and soldiers could practice and master many necessary assault skills outside the range of German bombers.

The main goal of the largest establishment, i.e., Combined Operations No. 1 Training Centre (called H.M.S. Quebec, situated near Inveraray), was to train servicemen how to use various “craft for landing assault troops, supplies, ammunition and weaponry onto heavily defended enemy occupied beaches.”

A fitting memorial re Combined Ops stands on the 'repurposed site'

I explored the repurposed site in 2014 (it is now a trailer park) and learned that “250,000 Allied personnel passed through the centre from 1940 - 44... up to 15,000 were billeted in the area at any one time.” (www.combinedops.com)

Canadian seamen arrived at H.M.S. Quebec in jam-packed lorries in late March 1942, and momentarily puzzled over the name - linked to Canadian military history. It was the busiest of camps, however, and with the Dieppe Raid and invasion of North Africa only months away, a cadre of strict instructors wasted no time putting my father and mates through their paces in small, flat-bottomed vessels that could run or slide up onto a shore in 8 inches of water when empty.

“We did much running up onto beaches,” Doug writes in memoirs, “so soldiers could disembark and re-embark, always watching the tide if it was flowing in or going out. You could be easily left high and dry, or broach too (turn sideways), if you weren’t constantly alert. We took long trips at night in close single formation, like ducks lined up close, because all you could see was the florescent waters churned up by propellors of an ALC or LCM ahead (i.e., Assault Landing Craft or Landing Craft Mechanized, respectively).”

The Canadian sailors transported so many different regiments and commando units on the lochs that there were too many to remember. Most of our boys, however, took to the new training and terminology related to different landing craft like the aforementioned ducks to water.

Port, starboard, fore, aft - got it. High, low, flood, ebb, neap tide - check. Kedges, winches, cables, anti-broaching lines - check. Breakfast 0600 - yipes!

One detail my father noticed seemed troublesome. He says, “ALCs carried three rows of soldiers - two outside rows, (with) a center row completely exposed. LCMs carried soldiers or a truck, Bren gun carrier, mines, gasoline, etc. ALCs were made of 3/16th inch plating, thick enough to stop a bullet. But LCMs wouldn’t.”

Servicemen 'kick the tires' on an LCM at H.M.S. Quebec

Photo Credit - Imperial War Museum

Though many of the crafts used at H.M.S. Quebec - later at Dieppe - were made almost solely of plywood, the good training did produce good results.

Canadians could clamber up and down scrambling nets and Jacob’s ladders very proficiently (“because we learned to use only our hands”) aboard the Ettrick, a liner anchored offshore downtown Inveraray.

“We got so it took about three seconds to drop 30 feet from the hand rails to the water line on the scrambling nets,” says Doug.

Canadians trained "aboard the Ettrick, a liner anchored offshore Inveraray"

Photo Credit - As found at www.combinedops.com

Hard work in beautiful surroundings toughened the sailors in memorable ways. The nearby hills caught many eyes and 30 years after the war’s end one veteran said, “I will always remember getting up in the morning to see the sun shining through the mist onto the purple heather. I made an excursion one day and actually rolled in it - to my delight.”

About that first trip to Scotland one could say, so far so good. So far.

2014: A view of Loch Fyne at former site of H.M.S. Quebec

More to follow.

To see more scenes from Inveraray please link to Photographs: Landing Craft at Inveraray

Please link to Editor's Column: As Published in Norwich Gazette (4).

Unattributed Photos GH

Photographs: Training on Landing Crafts (12).

H.M.S. Quebec at Inveraray and More

"You take the high road, and I'll take the low road."

It's a long way to Inveraray. G. Harrison 2014

Introduction:

In the spring of 1942 the first Canadian volunteers in Combined Operations likely arrived by train in Tarbet (northwest Scotland), disembarked onto a busy platform, then hopped onto waiting lorries in order to travel the last several miles to H.M.S. Quebec on winding roads (above). There is no train to Inveraray to this day, only a newer, less-twisty highway (the high road, upper left above).

The train stops at Tarbet to this day. Photo 2014.

 Tarbet's solid platform awaits modern-day visitors. Photo 2014.

Have a car waiting. No rail line to Inveraray.

Once there, after being assigned to cabins, they began handling ALCs and LCMs on Loch Fyne.

Their former drill hall is now a reception centre at a caravan park and nearby stands a lovely memorial to the service of the many 1000s of servicemen and women (including Canadians) who passed through the gates at H.M.S. Quebec, the No. 1 Combined Training Centre (with a link in its name to Canadian military history). 

Below the Combined Ops insignia one reads the following:

Inveraray was No. 1

Combined Training Centre 1940 - 1945.

Its purpose was to train Navy, Army and R.A.F.

personnel in assaults and landings.

Several camps were situated

on the shores of Loch Fyne.

This was H.M.S. Quebec, the Navy Base.

During the war years many famous leaders visited 

including King George VI, Winston Churchill

Lord Louis Mountbatten and

King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav of Norway.

250,000 British, American, Canadians,

Free French, Polish and Norwegians all trained here.

 Missing is Reggio Di Calabria, Operation Baytown,
Invasion of Italy 1943 (in Editor's opinion).

Most of the photographs presented in this post relate to landing craft as seen on Loch Fyne near Inveraray, Scotland, and some veterans' stories related to that camp are also listed.

The last few focus on other training camps in the U.K.

Most of the photographs and captions that follow concerning landing crafts and training camps are located - with thousands of other useful topics and millions of photographs - at Search Our Collections at Imperial War Museum (IWM).

Please visit IWM at your leisure and if you locate more information about Combined Operations camps and landing craft training, please inform me in the comment section below.

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A29894. Join-up panorama of HMS QUEBEC, showing part of the training

pool reserve and pier. Photo Credit - Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM

A29896. Join-up panorama of HMS QUEBEC, showing part of the

training pool reserve and pier. Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

Photo taken by G. Harrison in 2014

A29897. Part of the training pool reserve at QUEBEC.

Photo - Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, Imperial War Museum.

Photo taken by G. Harrison in 2014

About his time at H.M.S. Quebec - Spring, 1942, before Dieppe raid) - my father recalls the following:

On H.M.S. Quebec one night, a bunch of us wild Canadians were there along with a lot of Limeys who had since joined in at the wet canteen. Every glass of beer we drank we tossed over our shoulder against the iron radiators so we found it best to have our backs to the wall.

On this particular night all the English guy could play on the piano was ‘Elmer’s Tune’ and we soon got sick, sick, sick of it.

O/D Linder from Kitchener poured a glass of beer up and down the keyboard and the fight was on. Out went the lights, tables flew, and we sailors sneaked out leaving the Englishmen to fight amongst themselves.

What a sorry lot in the morning. (Page 14, "DAD, WELL DONE")

Navy 'drill hall' remains at site of H.M.S. Quebec. Photo 2014.

But, in the morning, it was back to work.

A29898. Casting air valve seatings in the foundry at HMS QUEBEC.

Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, Imperial War Museum.

A29900. The transporter which takes the landing craft from the water to

the beach at HMS QUEBEC, Inveraray. Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

A29901. The wake from the Admiral's barge, a high speed launch,

in Loch Fyne. Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, Imperial War Museum

Before leaving Loch Fyne behind us in the wake, here is a short story about an experience of one fine young Canadian matelot, Al Kirby of Woodstock, Ontario, who had one pint too many after a sit down at H.M.S. Quebec's wet canteen in 1942. (As told by my father, Doug Harrison):

Nearby was the H.M.S. Chamois camp i.e., adjacent to Quebec, a short walk to the south). We moved there for a time and still used the same wet canteen. O/D Kirby of Woodstock, a very young man (possibly 17 or 18 years old), got quite drunk and on his way back to camp was challenged to show his ID card.

After he did so he went on to his barracks but then started to brood. “No 5 ft. 2 in. English guard is going to challenge me for my ID card,” he said. So, back he goes to pick a quarrel. Quite soon came an order: “You, you, and you. Take a stretcher down to the gate.” Who should come back but young Kirby, quite unconscious. The guard just slammed him over the head with the butt of his rifle. (Page 15, "DAD, WELL DONE")

A29904. View of Nissen huts and the Castle at HMS JAMES COOK, Glen

Calach. (See map below for location) Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

Map as found at combinedops.com

A29905. View from the top of the castle of HMS JAMES COOK,

showing the living quarters etc. Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

A29911. The cinema (left) and canteen at HMS BRONTOSAURUS,

Rothesay. Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

A29915. South end view of the dockyard at Rosneath, with landing

craft moored. Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, Imperial War Museum.

A29916. The main workshops at HMS ROSNEATH.

Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

A29919. Section of B Huts at Rosneath.

Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

A29921. Rosneath Castle at HMS ROSNEATH.

Lt. E.A. Zimmerman, IWM.

Is that 'old black garters' on his bicycle (above), leaving Rosneath and its lovely estate gardens behind him in a hurry? If so, it's for good reason.

Doug Harrison, Canadian in Combined Ops writes the following:

About leave. When I was in southern England I put in for Glasgow and received two extra days for travelling time. But I never really saw Glasgow. I went, paid off a grudge, and immediately put in for the return trip to London.

Do I have a reason for such odd behaviour? Yes.

One day at Rosneath camp in Scotland, we ratings were all fallen in ranks, when out comes black garters and he says, “Any one of you guys a fast runner?” I stepped one pace forward. “Okay, run over there,” says black garters, “get a wheel barrow, shovel, fork, hoe, and go with this man and clean up that big estate garden.”

What a hell of a shock and what a hell of a job. It had been left for years. I made up my mind then that I would get back at black garters, and I connived to do it while on a leave, and I damn well did.

About Rosneath camp. It was where many chaps came down with impetigo and they were put on Gentian violet, the colour of an elderberry stain.

O/S Art Bradfield, of Bradfield Monuments in Simcoe (Ontario), went to Dieppe in pajamas - under his uniform - the only man to go to Dieppe in pajamas, and he got out of bed in Rosneath to do it. (Page 38, "DAD, WELL DONE")

Art Bradfield, no longer in PJs, appears in above photo, post-Dieppe.

Photo Credit - Len Birkenes, Canadian in Combined Ops.

Please link to Photographs: Training on Landing Crafts (11).

Unattributed Photos GH