From her much-loved Uncle David who flew 27 missions in World War II to the family of an RCAF pilot she never met who funded her university education, Louella Brace says that the military is woven through her life – and that’s why she gives to True Patriot Love. She researched and wrote her story and has graciously shared it with us.
Would you like to share how the forces have played a role in your family? You can upload your story here.
In 1939, in the idyllic farming country of New Brunswick, there were two brothers whose future took an unusual twist when a King and Queen came to visit their province. The boys, David and Gerald, had a sister, Pauline, who was eager to travel to the city of Fredericton to witness the historic visit, although she was nine months pregnant. Unfortunately, she was unable to go, for I decided to be born that day.
That royal visit is connected to why I give to True Patriot Love more than 80 years later.
King George VI and Queen Elizabeth’s visit was the first time a reigning couple had visited Canada. For a month crowds of tens and even hundreds of thousands greeted them at every city or town they visited. The winds of war were blowing and the Nazis had set their sights on Europe and England. One purpose of the visit was to drum up support in Canada and the US for the war that would soon engulf the world.
Canada answered the call. Among the many thousands who signed up for a war far from home were both my uncles. We had moved to northern Quebec and Uncle David spent a week with us before starting flight training in the Eastern Townships. I was the baby who never forgot him.
Uncle David was not accepted when he first enlisted in the air force because he was deemed “too small” and told to take a couple of years to “fatten up.” He reapplied in 1941 and was accepted when he was about 21. He looks about 5’ 8” tall and still slight in build in a photo taken at that time.
Uncle Gerald’s daughter, Debbie, and I have pieced together David’s life in Europe. I have his personal letters which he sent to my mother, but of course they could not divulge any classified information.
Debbie inherited his trunk from her father, which he could not bear to open though he kept its key on the dresser in his bedroom. It contained amongst other things, his logbook, his dress uniform, and his hat which, she discovered, was obviously too big for him because it had six layers of newsprint rolled up around its inside edge. When she unrolled them, she found it was an old newspaper article about the 1917 Halifax harbour explosion.
Like all pilots, David flew many practice runs until finally he piloted sorties himself, flying bombing missions in Germany and also Belgium and France. Before every mission crews discarded everything that could possibly identify them, except their good luck charms. In David’s case it was a small colourful elephant that Greta, Uncle Gerald’s fiancée, had sewn for him.
Every pilot had a long break after each of these dangerous missions. During one of those breaks he surprised Gerald who was in the army and stationed in Scotland. He stayed overnight in the barracks with Gerald. Apparently, Gerald’s buddies were amazed that an officer would deign to stay in the barracks with them. David was a very humble man at heart. Sometimes the brothers would write letters to their mother. One time they took turns writing a line and passing it back and forth. For a short time, they were lost in carefree fun before returning to their real world.
On one harrowing mission on August 22, 1944, the target was in sight and the bombs readied for the drop, but the doors of the bomb bay got stuck partly open. Some of the crew wanted to jump. David knew they would be shot on the way down or, if they made it safely to the ground, would be taken prisoner.
Since the target could not be bombed, he redirected his energy to saving the crew and plane. “We’re going home!” he said. With these few words he galvanized the crew as a team and united them in getting the plane through the spotlights, the flak and any German fighter planes that might attack.
There was also the looming challenge of landing: any jarring could set off the bombs, stranded in their precarious position. I can only imagine the tension and the responsibility that lay on David’s shoulders as the plane sputtered to a stop, with firefighters primed for rescue. Both bomb bay doors were riddled with bullet holes. David was presented with the Distinguished Flying Cross for his courage.
David continued to fly and by the end of the war had flown 27 missions. In November 1945 David was sent home with tubercular meningitis and immediately hospitalized. Tuberculosis can settle anywhere in the body and unfortunately in David’s case it settled in his brain, the hardest place to cure. He needed penicillin to fight the disease, but most of it had been sent to the war zone. My father connected with a doctor who was able to get some from a small supply left in Canada and on December 23, a mercy plane rushed it to Fredericton. Just as the plane landed, David drew his last breath. His last battle was over.
Gerald was particularly devastated as he and David were very close. They were not only brothers, but also brothers in arms. Little is known about Gerald’s service in the army motorcycle brigade as he kept nothing related to his time in the war, nor did he ever speak of it. Gerald and Greta cancelled their planned church wedding and were married privately in her parents’ home.
In the spring they came and spent the summer with our family in Quebec. I have fond memories of the many pancake challenges Gerald initiated at family breakfasts. Greta sewed me a large, yellow-patterned elephant that was very special. My mother constantly mended it because I kept wearing out the material, hugging it to my chest. I only found out in writing this story that it was from the same pattern Greta had used for David’s charm.
Uncle David had sent a bit of money home every month to his mother, designated for my sister’s and my education, but it all went to my older sister. I knuckled down and worked hard for high marks hoping they might merit a scholarship to university, but the summer passed without any news.
A week before start of classes, I found out that I had earned a scholarship to Bishop’s University. The scholarship was a gift to the university by the Carmichael family in memory of their son, Douglas, who had attended the university and also joined the RCAF. Douglas Carmichael had graduated from Bishop’s and likely trained in the Eastern Townships. I have often wondered if he and David ever met, either there or during the war. Unfortunately, Douglas Carmichael went missing during an early sortie, possibly his first. It is now known that he is buried in Germany.
So, I have three wonderful military men for whom I have great respect for the patriotism they exemplified: David, Gerald and Douglas. They were just young boys who rapidly became men and then giants in their own time. I will always remember them with gratitude.
The patriotism of all our men and women in uniform is so precious that it is meant to be cherished no matter whether army, navy or air force; no matter what title or whether on active duty, a veteran or in the reserves; nor does it matter how healthy or how damaged they might be. They are all heroes, dedicated to service and helping when needed. They and their families are deserving of our support and thanks in return.
This is why I am so proud to wear a poppy and to give to the True Patriot Love Foundation. We have all been touched personally and collectively by their gifts and I remember them with gratitude and a loving heart.
This quotation by Father J.R. Lardie (Chaplain, 419, 428 Squadron RCAF) says it all:
“One day when the history of the twentieth century is finally written, it will be recorded that when human society stood at the crossroads and civilization was under siege, the Royal Canadian Air Force was there to fill the breach and help give humanity the victory. And all those who had a part in it will have left to posterity a legacy of honour, of courage, and of valour that time can never despoil.”
At the bottom of Uncle David’s tombstone is written:
REST IN PEACE
DARLING DAVID
