Bomb Girls

by Barbara Dickson

  Operators filled 13,426,587 No. 251 fuses over GECO’s tenure in Building No. 67, the largest producer of any single fuse in Canada during the war. Simple, one-storey wood structures, these clean-side buildings could contain several fuse-filling workshops separated by fire walls. Escape doors to the outdoors were provided in case of explosion or emergency evacuation. Courtesy of Archives of Ontario.

  Production at GECO ran twenty-four hours a day, and management expected women to work shifts, each running between eight and a half to nine hours, rotating weekly. Day shift ran between 7:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m.; afternoon shift ran from 3:00 to 11:00 p.m.; and the overnight shift ran from 11:00 p.m. until 7:00 a.m.64 Shifts were problematic for mothers who relied on daycare. The company did attempt to ease these childcare concerns by allowing employees to reduce their Saturday shift by half if they worked an additional thirty minutes each weekday.65

  There was no flexibility, however, when it came to safety rules. Stringent rules and inflexible regulations, vital to the safety and security of work within the munitions plant, extended to workshops on the clean side. Management strove to make employees “safety-conscious” not “accident-conscious.”66 They worked to put a positive spin on what could be considered a plethora of negative “don’ts.” Scare tactics were not used; no lectures or posters outlining the consequences of carelessness were used either.67 On the contrary, GECO’s employee newspaper regularly printed safety reminders, oftentimes using cartoons and humour. Well-known Canadian cartoonist Mr. Lou Skuce contributed several cartoons emphasizing safety. In one depiction, two GECOnians are observing a male employee filling a fuse. One comments to the other, “He’s worked here ever since the plant opened and he’s still so careful you’d think he’d just started.” The other woman replies, “Maybe that’s just why HE HAS BEEN here so long!”68 Skuce’s Goose — an iconic character appearing in many of his cartoons — has been listening to the women’s conversation. “That’s right,” he thinks, “careful folks last longer on dangerous jobs!”69 Some cartoons were printed as posters adorning cafeteria walls.70

  The company laid out myriad clean-side rules in their “Regulations of the Scarboro Plant,” given to every employee:

  IT IS ESSENTIAL THAT YOU:

  Obey all rules, regulations or instructions given verbally or displayed in print or writing.

  Conduct yourself quietly at all times and in all places.

  Do not indulge in argument, “horseplay” or “skylarking.”

  Touch no article, apparatus or thing in any part of the factory EXCEPT as necessitated by your work or when instructed to do so.

  Report any case of infectious or communicable disease either in yourself or in your place of residence.

  Do not wear torn or frayed factory clothing.

  Do not wear factory clothing impregnated with explosive, without reporting to your supervisor.

  Proceed at a walk by the most direct route to your destination.

  Do not obstruct any other worker.

  Give way to explosive traffic.

  Place nothing on any part of the heating system.

  REPORT IMMEDIATELY ANY INFRINGEMENT OF THE REGULATIONS COMING TO YOUR NOTICE IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER.71

  GECO management recognized this last regulation was difficult to obey, knowing most people did not like to be a tattletale, especially where a friend was involved. There was, however, no other option in GECO’s collective mind. Employees were expected to report an incident as impersonally as they would report a fire. To drive the point home, management described a fire in most cases to be “much less dangerous than the worker who will not respect the ‘sane’ regulations” designed for their safety.72 This section containing clean-side rules wrapped up with an appeal to patriotism: “THIS IS YOUR FACTORY. THE WORK IS YOUR PART OF CANADA’S WAR EFFORT. IT IS YOUR RIGHT AND DUTY TO PROTECT BOTH.”73

  Work It Out

  Controls, decrees, rules, and regulations did not end when an employee reached her fuse-filling workshop. In particular, her company handbook outlined many more demands she had to keep foremost in her mind while on the job. Most statutes were common sense, but some requirements were unique to a munitions plant, such as remembering to use both hands to carry a tray, and remembering to pass explosives to another worker by first placing the fuse on a bench or table, then waiting for the other worker to pick up the ammunition.74 Adhering to imperative workshop directives was paramount to the safety of the workers inside as well as to Canada’s national security. Shortcuts or workarounds were forbidden. Safety signs hung outside every door displaying the maximum quantities of explosives and number of operators permitted in each shop.75

  GECO workers Agnes Brown and Sybil Irwin dry fuse covers after stencilling in Shop 43A. Courtesy of Archives of Ontario.

  GECOnians heartily embraced the countless rules and regulations they were compelled to follow. With their lives and those of their workmates at stake, there was no room for negotiation.

  Fuse-Filling 101: No. 251

  After touching the grounding rod at the entrance to her shop, a GECOite walked to her workstation, expecting to perform one of up to one hundred steps in the process to fill one unit of munitions.76

  As an example, operators at GECO filled 13,426,587 No. 251 fuses in Building No. 67 over its tenure; the largest producer of any single fuse in Canada’s history.77 Fuse 251 was used in 40-mm anti-aircraft guns, such as those manufactured by the Swedish arms manufacturer Bofors, which were exploited heavily by the Allied forces during the Second World War.78

  Building No. 67, where operators filled Fuse 251, consisted of three main shops — “A,” “B,” and “C” — with an annex attached to each shop.79 The original set-up for each workshop in Building No. 67 followed traditional, tried-and-true English processes that kept each fuse and all its components together until final assembly.80 While this system worked in the First World War, it involved many different actions performed by one operator, and in turn slowed the filling process considerably.81

  During the summer of 1943, after extensive investigation, staff switched Shop “C” over from English production methods to a bulk assembly production line.82 Each operator performed a single step in filling the fuse. The new assembly line consisted of worktables extending almost the entire length of the shop.83 A grooved track or channel was set up on each side of the tables.84 GECOites passed fuses down this track from one operator to another in small trays holding five fuses each.85 As each operation was completed, the worker passed the fuse in its block to the next operator and the subsequent operation.86

  Shop 67C’s assembly line required seventy operators and twelve inspectors.87 An additional nine workers and another inspector worked at a sub-assembly line set up in the annex, isolated from all other workers, where detonators and detonator plugs were assembled — by far one of the more dangerous elements involved in munitions production.88 Stemming, the pressing of a specified quantity of high explosive powders into certain areas in a fuse without causing an explosion, which had been done in workshops, was moved to Building No. 60 in an effort to limit the potential for explosion from tetryl, and confine its troubling effects to the smallest number of women.89

  In filling Fuse 251, empties had to be disassembled or broken down upon arrival for almost three years, until early 1944 when the manufacturer agreed to ship the fuses’ many parts, such as the body, detonator lug, and fuse magazine, as separate components.90 Once a worker had unscrewed the fuse’s various components, an operator transferred its pieces to the workbench according to the filling function to be performed. Steps included inserting a detonator that had been filled to the correct density in the annex, “papering” in layers for added power, reassembling all components, stamping Scarboro’s emblem, along with the date and lot number on the fuse, and waterproofing its magazine with cement.91 Each fuse lot — about two thousand fuses — was given a number, which tracked it throughout its life at the plant and thereafter, right into the hands of the Allied
forces.92 The fuse was inspected at ten separate times during filling to ensure explosives had attained a proper density within the fuse, as well as to certify all parts were appropriately tightened.93 Filled lots were packed and trucked to X-ray, and then to a bond warehouse to await final inspection and proofing.94 Before shipment, representative samples from the lot were test-fired in the Proof Yard to ensure accuracy, reliability, ease of use, and safety.95

  GECO workers check correct density of tetryl that has been packed in munitions components. Courtesy of Archives of Ontario.

  GECOites worked diligently, with a sense of patriotic pride in producing top-notch ammunition. GECO’s logo represented them on the world stage. They would not let the world down.

  Where’s the Beef?

  Munitions workers at GECO were entitled to two ten-minute “rest pauses,” or coffee breaks, and an hour for a meal during their shift.96

  “Pelletiers” — employees who worked in pelleting at the south end of the complex — were thrilled when, in May 1942, cafeteria staff set up an afternoon clean-side coffee service in Building No. 148 in the south “crossover” gallery, close to packing on the G.P. line.97 Their elation was sincere; the dirty side of the sprawling plant was a twenty-minute walk north.

  Eventually, four simple counter-style servers were constructed within the expansive gallery system (Building Nos. 148–151), supplying hot and cold drinks for five cents.98 Since rules forbade any metal in the Danger Zone, workers purchased canteen tickets in the cafeteria.99 GECOite Sylvia Nordstrand said of the clean-side canteens, “… it was standing room only. No seats or tables were provided. It didn’t matter as we sat nearly eight hours a day every shift.”100

  Four simple counter-style servers were constructed within GECO’s expansive gallery system, supplying hot and cold drinks for five cents. Fuse-filling employees took their breaks on the clean side since ten minutes was not long enough to travel back to the change house (up to a mile away), change to civilian clothing, and take a break in the cafeteria. Courtesy of Archives of Ontario.

  GECO’s main, two thousand–seat cafeteria served approximately three thousand meals per day, or sixty-five thousand meals per month, more than all of Toronto’s downtown hotels combined at that time.101

  The cafeteria, run on a non-profit basis, offered a full menu, including “the nicest fruit salad” Carol LeCappelain had ever eaten, or a full hot meal, both costing twenty-five cents.102 For ten cents more, employees could buy more expensive cuts of meat if, as Dorothy Cheesman recalled, “… you were really posh.”103 Despite steep price increases nationwide on several foodstuffs, such as beef, potatoes, and onions, Florence Ignatieff managed to keep prices in check.104

  Typically, a GECOite could expect her quarter to buy a choice of daily soup such as split pea or corn chowder, a selection of two daily meat options such as roast pork or poached salmon, and a choice of two vegetable options including potatoes, carrots, or a crisp salad.105 She finished her full-course meal with an option of desserts such as deep-dish rhubarb pie or chocolate pudding, and a choice of beverage such as tea, coffee, or whole milk.106

  Employees arriving for work or finishing up a night shift could enjoy a full breakfast served from 6:30 to 9:00 each morning for a quarter.107 During non-peak times, when the full menu was not available, a snack bar in the cafeteria offered light refreshments such as baked goods, ice cream, sandwiches, fruit, and coffee, tea, milk, and cigarettes.108 One of GECOite Betty Ellis’s best memories of her days at GECO was the food served. “They had really good food in the cafeteria,” she said. “They had great butter tarts. I can remember them even to this day.”109

  “We’re completely spoiled,” one employee conceded in an interview for the Toronto Daily Star.110 “When we go downtown nothing is good enough for us, and often we stay after work and have dinner here rather than go home and cook for ourselves.”111

  In fact, the only real complaint about the food came from those who worked the night shift, and then the complaint was not about the quality of the food — rather it was about the strangeness of eating in the middle of the night. GECOite Molly Danniels found it odd, while on night shift, to take her lunch break in the wee hours of the morning.112

  At Day’s End

  When a GECO operator finished her shift, she returned to her change room, hung up her uniform, hopped over the barrier back to the dirty side, donned her civilian clothes, and clocked out at the guardhouse. Bus drivers welcomed tired employees as they boarded to make the long commute home. A typical shift at the plant, including time spent in the change room and commuting, was approximately eleven hours in length. For the two-thirds of GECO’s women who were married, domestic demands waited for them at home. These strong, dedicated women had to juggle home, work, children, rationing, and the general pervading unease that came with living in a country at war.

  They were truly unsung heroes.

  Paying Tribute to the Girls

  In the March 27, 1943 edition of GECO Fusilier, a group of white-collar workers — stenographers to be exact — took a tour of the GECO plant. Their observations, in a small way, pay tribute to Scarboro’s bomb girls:

  … not only the usual things impressed us — the length of the Cleanways, the bright and busy atmosphere of the Shops, the cheerfulness of the operators — but smaller things too — like the monotony of turning a handle nine hours a day, and the fine skill of the women fuse-painters, and the identification marking of every fuse. Figures stuck in our head: the four-and-a-half ton press, the turning out of forty-eight thousand slugs a day for igniters.

  We were struck by the great cordiality of the Supervisors who showed us over; they spared no pains to explain things to us, and gave us a graphic description of work in their Shop. And as for the operators, we realize now, if we didn’t before, that keeping cheery and looking bright and intelligent while you do some small monotonous job all day or all night, is a real war effort.

  In one Shop a gang of women had the Spring fever and was giving out with a full-throated chorus of “Apple Blossom Time” — which made one reflect that by apple blossom time, maybe some of those igniters they were so swiftly assembling would have found their mark, in far-away skies — every one a shot for Victory.113

  7

  It All Depends on Me

  There is no argument GECO had a lethal product line, but the munitions plant’s real vim and vigour did not come from explosives. GECO’s true strength came from its employees, who faithfully showed up for their shifts, six days each week, with only a day’s pause for the Sabbath. With surnames ranging from Aneson to Zuber,1 patriotic men and women put their personal and family needs aside to produce ammunition, jeopardizing their own lives, and those of everyone working alongside. As the war progressed, the ratio of women to men in the plant rose to a staggering nine women for every man.2 These women — before the battle cry came — were content in their domestic duties, tending to husbands, house, and children, or they were single young women living out their carefree years as far away as Alberta and British Columbia in western Canada. These same women, who patriotically heeded the call, were thrust into wartime work by the hundreds of thousands throughout Canada and the United States.3 Many men and women who worked at GECO had loved ones in active service overseas. Some had not only husbands, but multiple brothers and sons, grandsons and granddaughters engaged in war work both on the front line and on the home front.4

  Every wartime worker had a unique experience and story to tell. The stories contained here chronicle the lives of GECO fusiliers collected from several sources, including first-hand accounts, surviving family members, and stories shared in the plant newspaper. Children of mothers who worked for GECO are particularly proud, and rightly so.

  This chapter is dedicated to those whose stories are told below, and to the countless others who lived out their lives in peacetime after the need for their services ended, and died with no recognition, no fanfare, without any medals to recognize their unique sacrif
ice and contribution in claiming victory over Nazi oppression.

  GECO Gals

  On the Dirty Side

  Mum’s the Word: Dorothy Cheesman

  Dorothy Cheesman, born in 1924, was hired in March 1941, very early in Project No. 24’s story. At just sixteen years of age, Dorothy was a high-school student at Eastern Commerce when the Hamilton brothers hired her as GECO’s first secretary. Her first assignment was to type up top-secret engineering notes at 1218 Danforth Avenue. She remembers getting fingerprinted, taking an oath of secrecy, and receiving wages of $15 to $17.50 per week.

  Dorothy transferred to 1350 Danforth Avenue, then to the newly completed administration building at the GECO plant in Scarboro in May 1941. Dorothy worked for Mr. Duff, GECO’s production manager, and moved with him to the clean-side office housed in Building No. 153 after a stint in administration on the dirty side. Dorothy stayed with GECO until the end of the war.

  The Operations (Time and Motion) Study Office was just across the way from Dorothy, and one of her very good chums, Molly Danniels, worked there. A twenty-eight-year-old gentleman, William McRae, worked in that office as well. Unable to serve his country overseas due to vision problems, Bill did his part at GECO. In 1945, when the war was won, Molly, Dorothy, and Bill moved on. Bill almost immediately saw an opportunity to woo the pretty lady in the clean-side office. Dorothy and Bill began dating and married two years later. They raised a happy, large family of seven. Dorothy continues to live in Scarborough today.