Joey Jacobson's War

by Peter J. Usher

  Made slow time during first week – now in danger area – reinforced by submarine Thunderbolt – glad I joined Air Force rather than Navy – fun over – serious work begins. (JJD 19 April 1941)

  We had our second ship’s concert last nite – impromptu – lots of fun – Norwegians sang some staunch songs – they are … quiet & jolly but have little to look forward to but vengeance. They are all airmen of the Fleet Air Arm. Submarines rumoured around. Don’t worry me. They would be lucky to find us & why spoil a pleasant cruise worrying – weather fine – heard we lost 3 of convoy thru collision in fog.

  (JJD 20 April 1941)

  On the 21st, after ten days of plugging along at slow speed with the convoy, the Laconia was directed to proceed north to Iceland on its own. It doubled its speed and pursued a zigzag course, changing direction every few minutes, thus reducing the opportunity for a U-boat to line up a torpedo shot. The daylight hours lengthened rapidly as the Laconia proceeded north, providing added protection from U-boats, which required cover of darkness to attack.

  Left our convoy of 40 odd ships to 12 destroyers & corvettes – quite an impressive sight to see so many ships together in the vast Atlantic. We are now on our way to Iceland alone. Had a sports day didn’t do much – played a good chess game … quite a few chess enthusiasts. Reading P.G. Wodehouse … he is real popular aboard. (JJD 21 April 1941)

  Saw empty barrels floating by today – ship sunk here yesterday4 – we are zigzagging away from subs – play lots of chess now – lots of sun – weather rough but nice outdoors – sea gulls following along behind – could gaze at them for hours, floating – zooming – diving.

  (JJD 22 April 1941)

  Art, Pat Murphy & myself had a farewell rum swizzle party, around midnite & it was still daylight – uncanny but we are now in the land of the never setting sun – weather rough & foggy – we have to wear lifebelts at all times now – zig-zagging from mines & plenty of subs – thirteenth full day at sea – due Iceland tomorrow morning if all goes well – passed lots more wreckage today. (JJD 23 April 1941)

  Arrived in Reykjavik Iceland – people silent – pro-Nazi – women good looking – proponents of trial marriage – we are stationed 14 miles from Reyk – temporary barracks sleep on floor – little food or anything else – all C.B. [confined to barracks] met Harry Ryan, Les Smitten, Nick Durban5 – awful hole they claim – mountains & lakes look good – Art & I will have a time despite the surroundings. Lots of soldiers all English – plenty complacent – C.O. a hard egg. (JJD 24 April 1941)

  Iceland, a neutral country with no armed defences, had been summarily invaded by Britain in 1940. This quick and bloodless strike pre-empted Germany from gaining a stranglehold on the North Atlantic convoy route and potentially encircling Britain, and placed it at permanent disadvantage for the rest of the war with respect to weather forecasting. Iceland soon found itself hosting an occupation force of 25,000 British and Canadian troops, transferred there after the fall of France. Icelanders were not Nazi sympathizers as Joe believed, but neither were they especially grateful to their occupiers.

  By the time Joe arrived, the British had established a naval base and nearly completed an airfield at Reykjavik. Most of the Canadians had been sent back to Britain the previous October, although the Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa remained due to a shortage of available machine-gun battalions. Now over four hundred Canadian airmen had come for a temporary stay, when the four escorts that had brought them returned to Halifax on patrol duty. They had no business in Iceland, and from Joe’s account, it was not an enjoyable visit. They were confined to a military camp miles out of Reykjavik. Rumours of “loose morals” on the part of Icelandic women spread quickly among these young men, but they were given no opportunity to apply their excess time and energy to verifying them.

  What memories – driving rain, foul food off of greasy plates (tin) – C.B.’d in mud hovels – nothing to buy or do or see – attempts at secrecy futile – civilians can find out nearly everything – heard Germans occupied Ireland – Greece lost – so are we if they don’t get us away from here – have to draw our water from the river – piss in tin cans – heat our own water – probably worried at home as I can’t get in touch with them – maybe tomorrow will look brighter. (JJD 25 April 1941)

  Went for a long walk with Art this morning – climbed a mountain this evening – country barren – no trees – land rocky & barren good only for sheep grazing – English airmen respect a rank – honoured when we treat them as equals – most Blimey pilots unpopular – try to act superior – lower ranks seem better men – ships crew for example – we are stationed at Helgafel – all more cheery as we are due to pull out tomorrow – Art & I feast on canned apricots – biscuits & chocolate bars – met … a few other old friends here – all had dysentery last nite. Trip over Atlantic novel, pleasant & dangerous – Iceland a kick in the pants for us as we were herded treated like rabble & cooped up – just a bit of a test to show us we are not to get everything our own way – we learn to grumble, joke & take it – have to take the good with the bad.

  (JJD 26 April 1941)

  The next day, all the Canadian airmen who had been dumped in Iceland over the previous two weeks, along with the Cameron Highlanders, the last of Canada’s occupation force in Iceland, were herded on board the Royal Ulsterman. They were bound for Scotland without escort, on a vessel that in peacetime had served as a ferry between Glasgow and Belfast.

  Hallelulia – boarded the Ulsterman headed for England – now sailing up a deep fjord in smooth water between mountainous peaks past destroyer & tugs – the Athol Empress to refuel from a tanker – quarters cramped – food probably same but feeling cheery as our crew of shipwrecked sailors, soldiers, officers, entertainers & our sergeants make ready to leave – still have trusty flask of rum. (JJD 27 April 1941)

  Accommodation about same as that given cattle in ships hold & we would have no more chance of getting thru if ship torpedoed – food all canned – boat still docked in fiord – everyone grumpy again. The sooner this trip is over with the better – getting all the bad now – should pick up before the war’s over – anchors up – sailed for England this afternoon – 2 troop transports – two destroyers saw the Hood anchored nearby with other battleships. No way out of hold in ship where we sleep – Art & I have steel pipes to force open gang plank entrance nearby – fast ship though should be safe. (JJD 28 April 1941)

  Plugged right along all day – smooth sea – weather better & Art, Grange & I had bull session … on war, future etc. started a rummy series with Art … cousin Lionel Silver aboard6 – our main gripe – we are not treated according to our rank or like human beings – English can exasperate you at times – food all canned – margarine terrible – stomach surviving somehow. (JJD 29 April 1941)

  Dropped a couple of depth charges – no trouble so far – hit the coast of Scotland & sailed between it & the Hebrides – getting close – met by planes – weather warmer, feeling spry … getting spruced up for landing tomorrow but uniform really scruffy – hair long – mustache going to come off – days of peace about to end – a short leave & we are all set to get down to work – the usual over the rail bull session with Art.

  (JJD 30 April 1941)

  Joe’s diary provides rare detail about his experience of the Atlantic crossing. RCAF personnel had been warned on embarkation not to write anything about their trip that might reveal convoy routes, schedules, ports of call, armaments, aircraft, military engagements, or losses. Over a month later he managed to communicate to his family that:

  We did not arrive on that big convoy – we had a special trip of our own and arrived here after numerous interesting adventures on May 1st. I will write you about that trip via slow mail. I left [a] day by day account of the trip – one month all told and gave the letter to a sailor to mail to you privately. The boat arrived alright but he forgot to post the mail – it was a twenty page letter. (JJL 10 June 1941).7

  Many of the arriving troops
ignored their instructions and wrote home about their North Atlantic passage. But some of their letters got no further than the British Postal and Telegraph Censor’s Office, which at that time was vetting about half of servicemen’s letters bound for Canada. Most recounted the relatively uneventful passage of the liner Georgic, at least two spoke of their passage on the Rajputana (whose passengers were stuck in Iceland for two weeks en route to Scotland), but there are no accounts of the Laconia’s passage in the RCAF’s censored letters file. In the circumstances, rumour and speculation abounded. Several letters contained exaggerated accounts of enemy encounters and ships sunk in previous convoys, and erroneous information on course and location.

  In our home circle many things have happened. We had news that a young cousin Sergeant John Michaels of the Imperial forces had been killed in or around Egypt. He was only son. A boy with quite a history. Sensitive, artistic, lot of good in him.8

  Although we have had no definite word we are pretty certain that Joe is on his way overseas. (PJD 19 April 1941)

  No cable yet from Joe but then nobody else has received any word. We really are not worried because we know that this is war and the thousands of cables which no doubt have been sent home must overcrowd the service … but we would like to hear. Not that a cable will give us anything but the most momentarily assurance of his safety … from now on we can only hope and pray and keep our fingers crossed … we would disintegrate quickly if we allowed ourselves to worry.

  (PJD 2 May 1941)

  We received a cable from Joe telling of his safe arrival in Britain. So he is Thank God safe for the time being. (PJD 7 May 1941)

  Joe had been lucky. The Rajputana was sunk by a U-boat on 13 April, a day out of Reykjavik. The day before Joe arrived in Britain, the troopship Nerissa was torpedoed in the eastern Atlantic en route from Halifax, with over two hundred men lost. Hundreds of Air Training Program graduates had travelled to Britain on the Nerissa in January and March. This time, the only occasion during the entire war that Canadian troops were lost at sea, no airmen were on board.

  Eleven

  The Blitz

  No sooner had the Canadian airmen disembarked at the Greenock docks than they were whisked away to a London-bound troop train. Joe saw little bomb damage on the way, but many balloon barrages and much pastoral countryside.1 The next morning they were sent to RAF Uxbridge, just outside the city. Originally a recruiting centre, like Toronto’s Manning Depot, it now housed No. 3 Personnel Reception Centre, a holding point for newly arrived Canadian airmen. There they were issued identity cards, battle dress, and clothing coupons. Within days, the new arrivals would be posted elsewhere for further training. Meanwhile they had enough time to see London on a forty-eight-hour pass, which Joe and his pals hastened to do.

  Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Sq – Lyons Corner House – good old London was taken in by the RCAF … drinks again in Wards – dance at the Astoria – took some nurses home got stuck in Hampstead – slept in cold air raid shelter without great coats – then on subway and really froze. (JJD 2 May 1941)

  Art & I took our farewell trip to London as Hell hooters … took a taxi tour of the Palace, Marble Arch, Hyde Park. Registered at the Beaver Club – met a few of the fellows – no word from G.P. or Mac – left messages – stopped over at the Regent Palace – drank at Wards – danced at the Astoria – turned in early … (JJD 3 May 1941)

  London! The great capital of the mother country, the heart of the Empire, the cosmopolitan centre of the world. Even in the spring of 1941, with statues removed or hidden behind walls of sandbags, windows replaced by plywood, and the lights of Piccadilly turned off, it was glamorous and sophisticated, exotic and yet familiar. Even, or perhaps especially, for those from Canada’s premier city of Montreal, arriving in London could not fail to be an exhilarating experience. The new arrivals set out to explore the city that every one of them had heard about but very few had seen. The hallowed monuments of Empire and Christendom they had learned about in school, and the landmarks, theatres, and shops they had read about in books and magazines – suddenly all were there to explore. And there was so much novel and different to experience: English accents, slang, customs, the penetrating damp and cold inside and out, women in uniform, four-o’clock tea, the tube, and crowds of people, many of them from unfamiliar parts of the world.

  Not all of this was new to Joe, who had vacationed with his family in England and Belgium eleven years before. But now he was exploring London as a young man with his pals. The Beaver Club, conveniently located in Canada House on Trafalgar Square, was the first destination for Canadian servicemen on arrival and on leave in London. There one could get news, exchange messages, bump into friends from other units, and perhaps even broadcast a live message home on CBC radio. There was also the American Eagle Club, up Charing Cross Road, a social club for foreign nationals serving in the British Armed Forces, and the Union Jack Club on Waterloo Road, which provided short-term accommodation for service personnel. Newly arrived airmen soon gravitated to other hotels and canteens such as the Regent, the Strand, Chez Moi, and Crackers. Joe summed up his first few days in his diary:

  Got my first glance of war torn England – noticeable damage not great – no air raids for me as yet – plenty of drink & food for us – Canadians are well received – blackout novel – morals lax – women especially have gone hog wild – more so than in Canada – shoot the works now – there might be no to-morrow is attitude – war grave for us – Germans on march everywhere – outlook bleak but now is the test – stick it out for better times. (JJD 3 May 1941)

  Joe was posted to an operational training unit in Yorkshire, and given a week’s leave. He headed back to London for a final frenetic Canadian reunion with his pals who had been posted to other stations, which he related to the Pony Club:

  we all met at the “Beaver” Club in London – what followed was a week’s solid binging – I was out on three all night sessions, I took in four plays – (we got free tickets) saw one movie – a few clubs – plenty of sights and women (if they may be termed as such). I saw plenty of London and no kidding things go along fairly normally – there has been plenty of damage by fire and H.E. bombs – but there is lots left and you get so used to seeing leveled buildings that it becomes part of the landscape – the people have the art of adapting themselves so admirably to the new conditions that it has become normal whilst our life would now be unnatural – they have two hours daylight saving so that it is light until 10:30 PM – nearly everything is over by 12 o’clock altho you can still find clubs, etc. to go to. … I doubt that you fellows would make out so well here owing to the fact that women over here have reached a status equal to that of men in all respects … there are no innocent women to begin with – and they prey on you to end with … Art and I had some difficult circumstances despite our intelligen[t] handling of our admirers – we were hosed on one occasion – left to spend the night in an air raid shelter on a cold night outside London upon another – and had numerous other more productive adventures which I will tell you about personally – too hot for this thin paper – still haven’t met anything that comes close to Cecily, though. (JJL 14 May 1941)

  Binging and partying could not hide the fact that London was, like the North Atlantic, a war zone. Blackouts, bomb shelters, plywood and sandbags for blast protection, dust and rubble in the streets from bombing, were the obvious features of a city under siege from the air. Food was rationed, and newspapers had been reduced to four pages. Joe observed that practically everyone was in some kind of uniform, including those who had escaped from the enslaved countries of Europe to fight another day. Of these, Joe told the Pony Club, “the Free French are disliked – the Poles are feared as bloodthirsty and are really out to get the Germans.” The war was no longer new for England, and by that time the country had settled in for a long and gruelling test. But ordinary life went on, during the day if not quite so at night.

  The first close-up experience of war for the newly arr
ived BCATP graduates was the Blitz, which had begun the previous September. Joe had arrived days before the heaviest and, as it turned out, final attack, in which over five hundred aircraft bombed London indiscriminately, killing or seriously injuring over three thousand people and leaving over twelve thousand homeless. The Luftwaffe’s assault had damaged bridges, water mains, and gas mains, although few military or industrial targets. Churches, hospitals, halls and theatres, museums, libraries and many treasured landmarks – including the House of Commons, Westminster Abbey, and Lambeth Palace – were damaged or destroyed by blast and fire. As Joe described it in his diary:

  This is being written in the middle of a terrific blitz – bombs & fires roaring all around – we are all up in the YMCA – saw Women Aren’t Angels – not bad – went tea dancing at O.C. Club – Out with boys early & back here for blitz. … Boy what a raid – plenty noisy – plenty shaky – … never know a war is on until a blitz like tonight then you make allowances for lack of hilarity amongst people & give them credit for their remarkable courage. (JJD 10 May 1941)

  Emerged this morning feeling spry & alive & found the damage from the raid was very heavy – Rly Stations – King’s Cross & others were out of commission – the Abbey & House of Lords was badly burnt – in fact the city was scarred – but people take it calmly & I am beginning to understand why – altho it is a rather terrifying experience to see buildings crumbling & burning & hear bombs & guns screaming – when it’s all over you feel as if you have accomplished something & you have – you have survived a London blitz. (JJD 11 May 1941)

  He elaborated to the Pony Club:

  everything looks dandy until you are unfortunate enough to be caught in a blitz – we got caught in the middle of one the last night of our leave – it was one of their worst – for 5 hours we would stand in the street – watch the tremendous fires burning all around us, listen for the motors of German planes – trying to dodge incendiaries and ducking for cover when the next wave of high explosives followed – we missed being leveled a dozen times by about 1/10th of a second – the town was rather bashed up the next day but with customary calmness and efficiency just another blitz was being efficiently defeated – added to that 33 German planes were brought down. The next morning a brilliant sun was practically obliterated by the smoke that overhung the city. Quite amazing when you figure how a blitz is taken in stride here – since no military damage is done on one of these reprisal raids – I would say that the expense incurred by the Germans is rather high considering the results. Well enough about the blitzes. After being in one though I might say that I am rather pleased that dropping bombs on Germans will be my job – I doubt that they have the guts to stand up to them – time will tell. (JJL 14 May 1941)