WOP/AG Peter Jensen. Instalment 2
No 2 Embarkation Depot was next door to No 2 ITD, with similar buildings. Here we were kitted out in flying gear, winter uniform and greatcoat and lots of little items like a bible, ‘housewife’ (sewing and cleaning materials) and all sorts of things – including ear plugs! Time was taken up mainly with PT, drill, route marches etc. Then one day came a most memorable occurrence. Even though it was early March, the weather was extremely dry and hot, and we went on a 5 mile route march with rifle and fixed bayonet – and respirators on! If you have ever worn a respirator, (commonly, but incorrectly called gas mask), you will appreciate the difficulty. Each breath has to be sucked through several inches of charcoal and is a great physical effort. On return to camp, we stacked rifles and had to run around the parade ground several times until we were gasping for air, with sweat running down our bodies. Then we had to go into the gas chamber in groups, remove the respirators and keep running around the chamber three times before we were let out. We were puffing and panting so much that it was impossible to hold one’s breath, so we breathed in the gas several times before we got out into the air.
The gas was so-called tear gas – one of the Di-phenyl-amine-chorazine group – but it was like having a lung full of razor blades. The NCOs thought it was a great joke. As we came out of the gas chamber, they told us (in between laughter) to stand facing the breeze and breathe deeply. Most of us just rolled around on the ground with phlegm etc coming out of our mouth, nose and eyes. I was sure that a terrible mistake had been made and that we had a received a dose of chlorine. However, we all got over it in a couple of hours, but it is an experience I will never forget.
After a fortnight at 2ED, we were told we would be leaving within a week and that those living nearby could go home each night and come back in the morning ready to embark. No one would know which day it would be until the morning of departure.
Eventually, on the 21st of March 1941, we were told to pack kitbags and were driven in buses to the wharf and marched on to the good ship ‘Aorangi’. As dusk fell, we sailed through the Heads to open sea. I remember lining the rail with several others as we watched, in silence, as darkness closed in. Then one of our number, John Anderson, voiced our thoughts: “I wonder if we will ever see that again?” Unfortunately, John was one of those who didn’t. He was later killed in North Africa.
Our journey to Canada on the Aorangi was a wonderful holiday. We travelled as tourist class passengers together with a number of civilian fare-paying passengers. Some of the chaps were lucky enough to score First Class cabins, but others were in steerage. I had a Tourist Class cabin with three others, so I couldn’t complain. Apart from a parade every morning and a couple of lectures, we spent the time relaxing, reading and playing deck games, all in all a pleasant holiday. We stopped at Suva for two days, called in on Christmas Island and Fanning Island, depots of the overseas telegraph line.
After three weeks on board, we arrived at the capital of British Columbia on Victoria Island. After a route march around the island, we boarded ship and next day sailed into Vancouver harbour. We were marched straight on to a train, told that our destination was Winnipeg, and sent off, much to our disappointment at not having had any time to have a look around Vancouver. We travelled in ancient wooden carriages, but they were quite comfortable. The windows were double-glazed and the seats converted into bunks at night. Climbing the Rockies was exciting, most of us seeing snow for the first time and we had lots of fun in it at the various stops. One morning we stopped for a couple of hours at Banff and the scenery to our breath away. We also had our first sighting of a ‘Mountie’, scarlet coat and all. He was very patient as we all took photos of him, (unfortunately, of course, in black and white). Finally, we left the Rockies and set out across the endless prairies, and finally, after three days and nights on the train, reached Winnipeg, the capital of Manitoba Province.
Winnipeg was a beautiful little city of 300,000 people, and an unusual feature is that instead of clocks on the tall buildings, they have (or had then at least) dial thermometers. The day we arrived there they were registering 32 degrees F (freezing point).
After looking at the Wireless School of Tuxedo, we were given the rest of the day off so we went sight-seeing into the centre of town. While 32 degrees is quite cold, we found the worst aspect was the cold wind which blew unchecked across the vast open spaces of the prairie. We spent most of the time inside the centrally heated shops. When we decided to change shops, it was a mad dash from one to the other, being careful not to slip (or worse, do the splits) on the frozen pavements.
With summer coming on, it soon warmed up and the cold became just a memory. In its place came a worse nuisance – mosquitoes! Fortunately, our huts were well screened and there was plenty of insect spray, but parades were torture - you stood at attention while the mozzies chewed you to pieces. However, apart from the mozzies, we had a great time. Accommodation was far superior to what it was in Australia. Spring bunks with mattresses, sheets and pillows instead of a straw palliasse on an iron frame with only a grey blanket. The food was good and the huts were an ‘H’ shape, the middle part being the ablutions, with plenty of hot water for the showers.
Discipline was slack – the NCOs were friendly and used to join in with us when we played softball or cricket, not like back home where the NCOs were like paranoid bulls. The civilians were wonderful and practically fell over themselves wanting to entertain us. It used to be embarrassing when you arranged to visit one family and another would ring to ask when you would visit them again. Our five months at Tuxedo was a happy and memorable time.
One thing that really staggered me was how better educated we were compared with the Canadians, and to a lesser extent, the New Zealanders. Most of our chaps had, like me, left school at 15, after passing the Intermediate Certificate, but our standard was roughly the same as the Canadians who’d left school at 18. Our grasp on everything was far superior, especially in arithmetic. The Canucks couldn’t do any mental arithmetic. They needed a paper and pencil for everything.
In my course, there were 72 Aussies, 72 NZers and 50 Canucks, and in practically every exam, the first 10 would consist of something in the order of eight Aussies and two New Zealanders. The first Canucks would come in around 11th or 12th. From what I heard, this was much the same at other EATS* schools. (*Empire Air Training Scheme)
During the final examinations, as the results were coming out, I was leading the field, (much to my surprise). One of my mates, Alan Marriott, was right behind me until the last subject, Practical Radio, when I made a stupid mistake which put Alan out in front. Anyway, second isn’t bad!
Last edited by Wiley; 1st Feb 2010 at 00:09.
Reason: Typos, new info from PJ