From Coal Oil Lights to Satellites
Memoirs of a Haliburton County Redneck
Ray Miller
On Leave from the War
Me and Nipper. 1943
It was March 20th 1943. War was raging in Europe. Dad listened to every newscast he possibly could, hearing reports of troop movements 'over there'. Our allies had made some progress but the advance was slow and at the cost of many lives. Thousands of Canadians had already died in the pursuit of freedom. News filtered slowly to the home front then, and wives and mothers worried endlessly.
Floyd had been to Minden that day and heard that Andy Stevens had cut his foot badly working in the woods. Andy was a good neighbour and we had been troubled about the accident, but what was to happen next would cause us to forget this for a few hours anyway.
It was about 7:30 p.m. The weather had been colder than normal, with windy blustery days. There was a lot of snow left for this late date. We had gathered icicles from the eaves earlier to make ice cream and saved them outside the door in a pail. Mother and Mabel were mixing the ingredients and Dad was putting the ice cream machine together on the table, when Nipper started to bark fiercely.
"Nipper hears something he doesn't like," Mother said as she went to look out of the north kitchen window. There was still an eerie glow, as darkness took charge of the late winter evening. She peered through the window then said, "It's a soldier Milt; I can see the shape of his hat." Nipper's bark turned friendly as he rushed down the driveway.
Mother went into the front room and watched as the figure turned up our driveway. "Oh good he is coming in here. It is so good to see them safe, at least for a little while."
She went to the back door with the rest of us trailing behind her as he arrived around the corner of the washroom*. She opened the door and grabbed someone in a long emotional embrace. She stepped back and there stood Clifford Schroter with a large smile on his face. He was in full uniform, right from his regimental cap to his puttees and boots. Nipper was running around his heels, as happy as he could ever be.
He stepped inside, took off his knapsack and put it on the floor, removed his hat and slipped it under the epaulet on his shoulder. Then removed his gloves and put them on his other shoulder. With a loud, deep, "Ha," that belonged to Clifford alone, he took Dad by the hand, pulled him toward him and his deep voice bellowed, "God, Milt, it is so good to see you."
He put his arm around Floyd's shoulders and said, "You're taking good care of them I see." Then he gave Mabel a hug I am sure she can feel yet.
He walked over to me. I looked up that six-foot soldier, and you will not believe the pride I had for him right then. He knelt down and I looked into those deep kind eyes. It was hard for me, a five-year-old boy, to understand why anyone would want to do him harm. Because my parents had told me about war, I knew that just days before the enemy had been shooting at him, and that he would return to the battlefield as soon as his furlough was over, and he may never return.
He reached into his pack and as he handed me a chocolate bar he said, "This is just for you."
"Come on in for goodness sake and sit down. How long do you have? You'll have some ice cream with us won't you?" Mother babbled.
"You want to believe I am going to have some ice cream. Here let me help", he answered as he strolled in and sat at the kitchen table. We all just stood around looking at him until Dad broke the spell with, "You haven't been home yet, have you Cliff?"
"No I'm just on my way."
"How long do you have?"
"Seventy-two hours," he said as he pulled the ice cream machine closer. He turned to Mother, "Where's the stuff you to put into this?"
"Its right here," she answered, as she filled the inside container and brought it to him.
He put the container inside the bucket, installed the crank, and giving it a whirl he said "Where's the ice Milt?"
"Oh God, Cliff, I'm so stunned to see you I am not thinking."
Floyd went to the door and got the ice.
I can still see Cliff sitting there cranking the little handle.
He asked how things were on the home front and talked about the fires in Minden and Kinmount, while we enjoyed the ice cream and some of Mother's cookies.
Then he went to his knapsack, retrieved a balaclava from it and put it over his head. He took his wedge cap from his shoulder and pulled it down snugly. He shook Dad's hand, then put on his gloves and patted me on the head.
"You'll walk around the road tonight in the dark won't you Clifford?" Mother asked as he reached for the door.
"No! It's shorter through the meadows."
"But its pretty dark out, and there's three feet of snow yet in the woods", Floyd said.
"It's not so dark once you get away from the lights, and your eyes get used to it, and there is a good crust on the snow now," he said.
"Watch for the beaver meadow creek," Mabel said. "It might not be frozen now."
"Some people have heard wolves over there in Snowdon," Dad said.
"As long as they don't have fixed bayonets I'll be fine" he joked.
We all went outside and watched as he climbed over the two fences across the road, and disappeared over the hill toward the beaver meadow in the moonlight.
"Bob and Levigna will be so glad to see him," Mother said as she turned to go into the house.
The next day we had another surprise. John Hulbig and Ken Bowron arrived. Ken was also home on leave, and had come to get the motorcycle he had left in our implement shed when he went to war the year before. Ken was one of Floyd's best friends (and still is to this day). He spent a lot of time around our place as he grew up so he was like family. It was so good to see him so tall and slender in his uniform. He came into the house and it was like old times.
When he was ready to go he got his motorcycle from the shed. After a bit of trouble, he got it going and headed out the driveway. When he reached the top of the hill, he hit the brakes. The rear tire was on a bit of ice and it went sideways throwing him off. The motorcycle continued all the way to the bottom of the hill with Kenny running after it. Mabel stood there at the top, laughing at him. He recovered the bike, and after having a good laugh himself, he started it again and drove up the muddy road with mud flying.
It was brief but it was wonderful to have these guys around again.
On June 6th 1944, England invaded France, in an attempt to liberate the country from German occupation. Our thoughts were with the brave young men that carried out that mission.
On May 8th 1945, the war ended. Hitler had been defeated thanks to the bravery of these and thousands of others.
They did not have guided missiles, or fight from armoured vehicles, as we have today. It must be hell to have the enemy shoot at them from every direction with only a helmet for protection.
There are only a few of those brave soldiers left now as age has succeeded where the enemy failed.
There were nearly 40,000 Canadians killed in World War Two and 55,000 wounded. Canada was a major source of supplies to the allied forces. Our automobile factories built jeeps and other wartime vehicles and the arsenal in Lindsay supplied ammunition. Clothing factories made uniforms and parachutes, while the Prairie Provinces shipped grain and agricultural products.
With all the capable young men overseas the elderly went to work in ammunition factories. In addition to helping the war effort, these older ammunitions workers inadvertently helped in the discovery of a treatment for those with heart conditions. It was noticed that chest pain was often more evident to those suffering from angina on weekends than during the week. Those people working with gunpowder and explosives seemed to enjoy relief from the condition while at work. They found that nitro glycerine was being absorbed through the skin and this chemical was widening the passage through partially blocked arteries giving blessed relief. The little white pill, nitro patch and spray was accidentally invented. It is used throughout the world to this day.
Clifford Schroter returned safely when the war was over. He was later killed while releasing the binding chains from a load of logs. The load tumbled from the truck crushing him. He left a wife Mary and a daughter Candy.
Ken Bowron also returned. He has spent his life in Minden working at Bagshaw Lumber, and later as a building inspector, and builder. He and his wife Jean live in the house where he was born, at the end of what is now known as Rice Road. They have two children, Heather and Kevin.
*Washroom, The washroom was the building that Dad built when he tore the veranda off the house. He installed a cistern, with a room over it where Mother would wash laundry. There was a cistern pump at a sink that we used to washed our hands and face. Therefore, we always referred to this part of the house as "the washroom."
