Dressed for the train ride to Combined Ops training camp, Comox, B.C.
January, 1944. L - R: Don Linder, Kitchener. Doug Harrison, Norwich.
Joe Watson, Simcoe. Buryl McIntyre, Norwich. Chuck Rose, Chippewa.
On November 8, 2017 I presented an hour-long talk about my Dad's WW2 experiences. I did the same type of presentation on November 9, 2016 and that year's lengthy notes from which I quoted are listed in their entirety at the following link: Dad's Navy Days (Parts 1 - 11).
I will share the notes from Nov. 8, 2017's talk, which included much new material when compared to 2016's notes, on this website in three sections, with links to each section.
Introduction: The following 2-minute-long video, related to my father and his experiences related to serving in WW2 with other Canadians in Combined Operations, sets the stage for Part 2, “Dad’s Navy Days.”
Video Link - YouTube video (https://youtu.be/VISULzR_ex0)
Video narrative:
My father, Doug Harrison, turned 19 in September,1939, the same week England and Canada declared war on Germany. He gave up his steady job at the Norwich Co-op a year and a half later and volunteered for the Royal Canadian Navy Volunteer Reserve.
One of Dad’s weekly columns in the Norwich Gazette tells how he soon volunteered for another organization as well, one that would direct all his wartime duties from 1941-45.
He writes:
March the first, 1941, I left my employment at the Norwich Co-op and joined the navy in Hamilton. I took instructions each evening until June, at which time I went on active strength. I then took ten more weeks of training with many young men from the area.
Next, we entrained for Halifax where we underwent similar navy training, but now we marched to a far more serious drummer.
Upon completion of our course rumours came to our ears about overseas duty. Our commanding officer confirmed the rumours and said a request had been made by England’s Royal Navy for Canadian Navy volunteers for hazardous duty overseas. We were given a few days to make a decision....
We had come to know each other very well over a period of six months, and were swayed greatly by the fact that it seemed an excellent way to stay together. So, come what may, we volunteered for the unknown, almost to a man.
On that fateful day, fifty Canadians volunteered - with eyes wide shut - for the Combined Operations organization, the section of the British War Office charged with planning offensive operations during WW2. Small raids were mounted at first, including the best known, at Dieppe. Ever greater operations followed upon their heels, such as Operation Torch, the invasion of North Africa, and then D-Days in Sicily, Italy and France.
Before WW2 ended, about 1,000 other Canadians followed the first 50 into Combined Ops. Where did they go? What did they see, and feel?
To help answer these questions, please read the detailed WW2 stories about my father, Doug Harrison, and some of his Navy mates, supported by memoirs, news stories and photos.
These stories will hopefully encourage your personal remembrances on Remembrance Day, whether you recall WWI, WW2 or modern day veterans of war and their significant sacrifices.
About “remembering” my mother Edith wrote the following;
They went to war together,
So our country would be free.
They fought together on land, in air, on sea.
They died together in muddy fields,
In blazing skies, in deep, cold seas.
Let us remember them, together.
[Nov. 8, 1942, Doug Harrison, centre, unloads U.S. troops
and supplies from British ALC 428. IWM]
November 11 is a very important historical date. On the "eleventh hour, in the morning of the eleventh day of the eleventh month" the hostilities associated with WW1 ended, in 1918. Ever since, citizens of many countries around the world have reflected on the sacrifices of wartime veterans on that date.
As well, the 11th month is linked to a very memorable event in WW2. On November 8, 1942, 75 years ago today, my father and scores of his mates, took part in their 2nd big operation - the Allied invasion of N. Africa. It took place less than three months after the Dieppe Raid.
Caption of the photo above reads: Troops and ammunition being brought ashore from LCAs (landing craft assault 428) at Arzeu in Algeria during Operation 'Torch', Nov. 8, 1942. (Found at Imperial War Museum, U.K.)
My father’s Navy duties included transporting U.S. troops to the beaches at Arzew. Here he is, front and centre. After troops were safely ashore he climbed aboard a larger craft, an LCM, and began to deliver all the necessary materials of war to the same shores.
How do I know that? Dad said as much in his memoirs. And how did I get my mitts on that lovely photo of my father in North Africa? More details about that, later.
The presentation is made up of three 3 parts. First, I touch on two events that reached 75th anniversaries this year, the Dieppe Raid and Operation Torch. Then I share some details about Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily, and the role Canadians in Combined Operations played there in July and August, 1943.
Part 1:
[The Effingham Division, in Halifax, 1941.
Dad, front row, 3rd from left. Al Adlington, London, 4th row, 3rd from left.
Lawrence Lantz, 4th row, 2nd from right]
I want to first take you back to HMCS Stadacona in Halifax, November, 1941. Sailors are in the mess hall. Al Kirby, an 18-year-old recruit from Woodstock, has just read a ‘Volunteers Needed’ bulletin, for hazardous duty overseas, on small craft. Soon, the mess hall is abuzz with talk. Men volunteered, left and right. Was Kirby the catalyst that prompted almost the entire Effingham Division to join the Combined Operations organization? I don’t know.
What I do know is that in January 1942 about 100 young Canadians shipped out to Scotland together, and were soon training aboard landing crafts at Combined Ops camps in the U.K. The raid at Dieppe was their first action.
I also know that young Al Kirby from Woodstock has likely written one of the finest reports about the Dieppe Raid one will ever read.
Excerpts appear in Dieppe, Dieppe, published in co-operation with the Dept. of National Defence. However, Kirby’s 25-page story appears in its entirety in a book entitled Combined Operations.
Canada’s early connection to the C.O. organization is presented very clearly in this book by Londoner Clayton Marks, first printed in 1993, and reprinted last year by his family members, Valerie Martens, Steve Marks, and Andrea Martens.
Kirby’s tale covers a period of several days, from getting the assignment to link up with a particular landing craft, to participating in the Dieppe Raid as a landing craft crew member, then returning to England after the raid.
What follows are a series of excerpts:
A Few Days Before the Raid
The shrill Bosuns' call broke the peace of a Saturday afternoon 'Make and Mend' as forcefully as the action bell on a destroyer. "The following ratings report to the quarter deck on the double," it commanded... "Able Seaman Adlington, Seaman Bailey, Seaman Belontz - say again, Adlington, Bailey, Belontz.”
I lay on the lockers of our mess deck lazily passing the afternoon, when that call shook me back to reality. Adlington....Adlington....Holy cow, that's me....well, not me, but since I'm standing by for Adlington I'd better get to the quarter deck to see what dirty job I'm being offered now.
What one learns is that Kirby’s participation in “some dirty job” came about innocently enough - he was standing in for Al Adlington of London, Ont., for the price of one British Pound, a lot of money in those days. Bailey and Belontz also had friends standing by for them, i.e., Lawrence Lantz, age 18, from Quebec, and Joe McKenna, “a well mannered, very likable and quiet guy, about nineteen, from Souris, P.E.I.”
I will skip quickly over the early days re their job: The boys were sent to a lorrie and were soon in New Haven, having packed only an attache case for a weekend stay.
The three Canadians, and many more, were assigned to various RN landing crafts.
They remained in the dark about “what appeared to be a rather large exercise.”
Kirby writes about his assigned R-boat:
These "R" boats were a very nice craft to handle. The keel and frames were built of 1" thick plywood, while the plating was 3/8" plywood. They offered no more protection than a cigarette paper. One other defect - you could hear them coming from miles away.
Kirby, Lantz, and McKenna were witness to German raids that hit nearby Eastbourne.
One of Kirby’s paragraphs stands out, almost like prose. Poignant words describe the memory of the night time bombings, perhaps never fully forgotten:
As the sunlight retreated even further over the horizon,
the vivid red and orange flashes of the bombs exploding
in and around Eastbourne seemed to scream out to us
of the untold suffering and anguish of countless women and children,
unable to react in any way, to ward off the vicious onslaught
of the venomous Dorniers and Heinkels that thundered overhead.
And then, as abruptly as it had started, it was over.
Aug. 18 - One day before the raid, landing crafts were loaded with troops, i.e., Cameron Highlanders, and bicycles.
Kirby senses this exercise may be the real thing.
At about 8 PM, Aug. 18, they slipped their moorings, and left the shore.
Kirby spots McKenna’s boat, R-84, “about six feet in front of us.”
Al writes, “I shouted to McKenna to get that crate out of our way or we would run him down. He gave us a good-natured wave and we all settled down to keeping station as we slowly made our way out of the harbour.”
Kirby was greatly impressed with a feeling of responsibility and elation.
“Here I am at the wheel of a landing craft, loaded to the gun’ales with heavily armed, highly trained Canadian soldiers, headed for what I hope is a real life battle. Imagine the letter I could write home telling of great deeds and brave conquests, if only it turns out to be true.
Shortly after midnight, Aug. 19 (the date of the raid), the landing crafts stop to refuel. A Canadian soldier tries to light a cigarette. Kirby explodes.
“Put that bloody light out, we're pouring gasoline up here and the fumes will be running right down inside the well. Do you want to die even before you hit the beach?" I said that still thinking that we were headed for an exercise, and quite unaware of our final destination.
After refueling Kirby hears, at last, the plans related to the exercise. But no location is given.
A chill begins to creep over me as I slowly absorb the fact that we really are about to land on enemy territory. And even worse, the south Saskatchewan Regiment will be landing ahead of us so German defences will already be in action by the time we hit the beach.
"Where are we going anyway?" Kirby asks a soldier.
"Don't you know? You are supposed to be taking us there."
"I'm just following the boat in front of me," Kirby replied. “But to where?”
"It's a coastal town called Deepy," the soldier volunteered, "somewhere in France."
Hopes for a surprise landing disappear.
Al says, “Shortly before 0400, the sky ahead of us suddenly lit up with a myriad of tracers knifing into the heavens.* We all realized that we were getting close to our target, as the Infantry briefing indicated a touch down at 0500. Now it appeared that the enemy was awake and at action stations. Our hope of a surprise landing was dashed."
[*Kirby likely witnessed a sea fight between Canadian landing craft and a German convoy that spotted one another at 0300 hours. Details of such an encounter are found in other texts.]
At 0515 Kirby spots the coast of France; there was still no fire from the enemy as they drove parallel to the coast, one or two miles out. The relative quiet, however, soon passes.
Smoke screens from landing craft.
Photo - Canada at War
Plowing through the wall of mortar fire the noise was deafening, but more than that. The concussion of each burst pressed on our ears as though we were being smitten with giant pillows. I looked down along the line of landing craft and so far no one seemed to have been hit yet.
Looking over the top of the canvas cover, I am amazed at the sight of a piper standing up on the foc’sle of the second boat over, playing away as though he was alone in a field of heather. Shortly before touching the beach the din is joined by the staccato chorus of a number of automatic weapons from the cliffs on either side of the beach. The roar, the crash, the rattle and smash have reached a crescendo.
I feel the grinding of the hull on the beach, I undo the lashings on a bicycle. I shout to the closest man to take the bike. He looks at me in disbelief as I attempt to hand it to him. Ignoring me, he turns and runs for the sea wall, scrambling for all he is worth, stumbling over the bodies of his dead and wounded comrades. I drop the bike in the stones, turn and run, shouting to Hop as I go, "All clear, all clear, get us out of here Hop!"
Charging out through the smoke, we all prayed that we didn't hit anyone coming the other way. We couldn't see beyond our own bow.
We soon cleared the smoke and proceeded over to a destroyer and sat along side her. We are sure that we have put the Infantry where they belonged. Our damage is minimal, but looking around, the other boats are not so lucky.
From his vantage point upon the small landing craft, Kirby was an eye-witness to continuous explosions ashore. He also saw dogfights, and then heard the order to return to the beach. On the way in - they received a pounding.
I saw the boat on our left go up in a deafening blast. A small tidal wave hit the side of our boat and tossed us to starboard like a match stick. R-84, Joe McKenna’s ALC, seemed to be taking a blast of fire from the left hand cliffs, probably heavy calibre machine guns.
The landing craft retreated, Al Kirby not knowing why. After Navy shells pounded back at beach fortifications, his flotilla headed once more for the beach, and for the last time. They soon retreated again, and Kirby was left with many heavy questions.
Looking back I saw the LCA Flotilla heading into another hail of fire. After half an hour of heading out to sea, I learned that we were heading back to England. Who is going to pick up our Camerons? What happened to the LCA's which continued on to the beach? What was the lot of the entire operation? We are still four boats missing from our own Flotilla.
Good weather lay ahead, but the landing crafts presented not so rosy a picture.
I watched for opportunities to get a glimpse of either McKenna's or Lantz's boat but was unable to recognize either one. I noticed that two of our crafts were in tow.
Kirby returns to New Haven and finally meets up with Lantz.
What a mixture of feelings went through my body as I climbed up to the jetty and surveyed the shambles throughout the harbour. So relieved to be home. So ashamed to have come home alone. After half an hour I ran into Lawrence Lantz coming along the jetty. As we met, we said simultaneously, "Have you seen Joe McKenna?" We both answered, "No, not since we left here Tuesday night." I told Lantz that I had seen McKenna's boat taking some fire on the mid-morning trip. At midnight, after a meal, we walked back to the freight shed to our beds. We were very dismayed that McKenna was not in his bed, and we hoped we would see him in the morning.
Next Morning, August 20, 1942. Kirby writes:
Lantz and I decided to scour the boats alongside to see if we could find out what happened to McKenna.
They find McKenna’s craft, R-84, tied up beside the jetty. They both jumped down into it. The story doesn’t end there, but I will, for the most part. The last paragraphs - with enough disappointment involved to last Kirby and Lantz a lifetime - tell about the gutted condition of the landing craft, and the fate of Joe McKenna.
They were told that there would be a funeral service at the graveyard in Newhaven, and they planned to go in the hope of “finding McKenna.” (Kirby’s words). But they were both ordered to muster at their boats at 8:00 AM, to drive the landing craft back to Portsmouth. Consequently, they were unable to go to the funeral, or to say good-bye - at least in some way.
When Kirby wrote his memorable tale, perhaps he felt he was finally bidding a suitable farewell to Joe McKenna, a mate from his youth. I say now, “Well done, Mr. Kirby.” Let us remember them, together.
Al Kirby (right) with another mate (Doug Harrison).
Likely at Roseneath Camp, Scotland, 1942
Dad’s list with Joe McKenna, Lloyd Campbell (London) and others.
As found in St. Nazaire to Singapore, Vol. 1
The following photo, from the collection of Joe Spencer (RCNVR, Combined Ops.), and taken on August 20, 1942, was not shown at the November 8 presentation.
Caption: ALC 269 returning to Southampton from New Haven.
Charlie Sheeler, Joe Spencer (under White Ensign)
Part 2 to follow.
Unattributed Photos - G. Harrison.
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