While in Messina, 1943, Canadian Sailors Grew Hungry
"Lt. Andy Wedd, RCNVR, Spotted Some Beautiful Hens"
My father, Gordon Douglas (Doug) Harrison, was a member of RCNVR and Combined Operations from 1941 - 1945 and recorded many stories of his varied experiences - in memoirs, news columns for his hometown paper (The Norwich Gazette) and submissions to two rare volumes of Canadian Navy veterans' stories, i.e., St. Nazaire to Singapore: The Canadian Amphibious War 1941 - 1945. Click here to link to Volume 1.
In the top photo he is standing in front of his barn, home to a chicken coop and, usually, several laying hens.
Doug Harrison's barn, in Norwich ONT. As painted by Edith Harrison, his
wife, my mother (a talented painter and writer). Chicken coop is attached
to the barn, behind bent tree, far left. From the collection of GH.
Here is the same video in 8 seconds! Please maintain a sense of humour at all times:
Proof that I do not know how to use all features on my iPhone!
I include the written version below for those who prefer written versions:
Here’s a Canadian WW2 story from Sicily called “Stealing Chickens”
In mid-September, 1943 at Messina, after Operation Baytown was well-underway, members of the 80th flotilla of Canadian landing crafts settled into a less-stressful routine.
My father writes the following:
We weren’t too busy and the officers (who ate separately but had the same food as the regular sailors, like me) were growing tired of their diet, the same as we were, even though they had a Sicilian cook.
One day Lt. Andy Wedd asked me if I knew about poultry. I informed him that the subject was right down my alley. He then told me of the location of six or eight beautiful hens and asked if I would help him.
He said, “How be we put on some sneakers and gaffle them.” (Or steal them).
I said right then, “Okay by me, but I get a portion for my part of the deal.”
When he asked me how we could keep the hens quiet, I told him, with an axe! Or, we could firmly grasp their necks and tuck their heads under one wing and rock them for awhile. We chose the second plan because it actually works. By now, of course, our mouths are watering.
We went in at dark, like another raid, and entered the outside pen with a flashlight, a kit bag and wearing mitts. Andy slowly caught each one by the neck, handed them to the master who rocked them to sleep and lowered them quietly into the kit bag. Without a squawk we cleaned the roost and proceeded to the officers’ mess, with the kit bag between us. Lt. Wedd asked the Sicilian cook to prepare them. And a little while later a couple of drum sticks were handed out the window to me.
Next morning, the Sicilian cook came in as mad as could be. Someone had stolen his chickens. Little did he know when he cooked them that they were his own - because his wife and his mother looked after them. Lt. Wedd and I kept that story secret for many years.
The story is from “Dad, Well Done,” pages 36 and 70
In mid-September, 1943 at Messina, after Operation Baytown was well-underway, members of the 80th flotilla of Canadian landing crafts settled into a less-stressful routine.
My father writes the following:
We weren’t too busy and the officers (who ate separately but had the same food as the regular sailors, like me) were growing tired of their diet, the same as we were, even though they had a Sicilian cook.
One day Lt. Andy Wedd asked me if I knew about poultry. I informed him that the subject was right down my alley. He then told me of the location of six or eight beautiful hens and asked if I would help him.
He said, “How be we put on some sneakers and gaffle them.” (Or steal them).
I said right then, “Okay by me, but I get a portion for my part of the deal.”
When he asked me how we could keep the hens quiet, I told him, with an axe! Or, we could firmly grasp their necks and tuck their heads under one wing and rock them for awhile. We chose the second plan because it actually works. By now, of course, our mouths are watering.
We went in at dark, like another raid, and entered the outside pen with a flashlight, a kit bag and wearing mitts. Andy slowly caught each one by the neck, handed them to the master who rocked them to sleep and lowered them quietly into the kit bag. Without a squawk we cleaned the roost and proceeded to the officers’ mess, with the kit bag between us. Lt. Wedd asked the Sicilian cook to prepare them. And a little while later a couple of drum sticks were handed out the window to me.
Next morning, the Sicilian cook came in as mad as could be. Someone had stolen his chickens. Little did he know when he cooked them that they were his own - because his wife and his mother looked after them. Lt. Wedd and I kept that story secret for many years.
The story is from “Dad, Well Done,” pages 36 and 70
For those who wish to know more re Doug's memoirs,
please connect me at gordh7700@gmail.com
Doug Harrison loved his bantam ("banties") roosters and hens
Photos, Videos by GH
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