Saying Goodbye

It was all hard work at navigation school--classes and homework, some practical work when we went on flights, but it was mostly studying.  I did see my brother and his family on weekends, and with a little planning towards the end of my stay there, Grace came for a weekend and stayed at my brother’s.

About two weeks after that we graduated.  I thought this would be it, I’ll be going overseas, but that wasn’t to be.  Somehow, they weren’t ready for us, but they had a nice little spot for us at a camp near Centralia, northern Ontario, where the winter comes early and stays a long time.  The camp was both new and unfinished.  We were in the only finished barracks.  There was running water but only cold, no toilets just outhouses, and in below zero weather no one stayed any longer than absolutely necessary.  The town was small with no movie and one barber who had his own style of hair cuts from which he never deviated.

Finally, in November we received notice that we would be going to Halifax, Nova Scotia, after a two-week leave of absence.  I was going home for a short time and I was looking forward to this.  I planned to tell my folks and Grace that I’d be going to Great Britain before Christmas for further training and finally service.  That would be out of the way, and everyone would be adjusted to the events by the time I had to leave.

But when I arrived, the idea that this was my last leave and I did have an uncertain future made me put off telling anyone right away.  Each day I awoke with a firm plan as to when I’d tell them and how I’d make it sound exciting.  But each day I couldn’t bring myself to say what I had to say, I’d just spoil my leave.  I decided finally I’d do it as I leave.  And when I was leaving, I couldn’t bring myself to say what I should say.  I left without telling anyone.  I decided to cable when I arrived there.  I know now it was much to my shame that I left like that.

My dad took me to the train.  We didn’t talk much; he told me a few years later he knew I was going.  I changed trains in Montreal for the train in Halifax.  The train stopped at Quebec City where I saw my brother’s wife and her father looking for me.  I was surprised as I hadn’t expected them at all.  The rest of the trip was uneventful.  The train was crowded and I found a shelf where our duffel bags were stacked that with a little shifting I could clear a whole shelf.  I crawled in there and made myself as comfortable as possible and slept the rest of the night away.

In Halifax we were billeted in large barracks with nothing particular to do.  We were to sail soon for Great Britain, and we had to be supplied with all our equipment: new flying gear, helmets, overalls, gloves, both heavy ones and silk gloves to be worn underneath the heavy gloves.  These silk gloves were amazing.  They kept some warmth in my hands many times when I had to take my heavy gloves off for some of my work in the plane.

It was cold and damp in this city, and I began to hope I’d catch a terrible cold and would have to be held back.  It was odd that none of us talked about our shipping out.  It seemed a subject we wanted to ignore as long as possible.  So maybe others had the same idea as I had.

We were warned against giving any information about our movements over the phone or in our conversations about town.  I called my parents because I felt so guilty not having told them, and now I couldn’t tell them.

©Joseph H. Harrison 1999