ARTHUR PAUL ANDERSON
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Birthplace: Enlisted: Date: Place: Service No.: Tour: Rank: Discharge: Place: |
Riverton, Manitoba The Royal Canadian Air Force July 4, 1941 Winnipeg, Manitoba J/93689 1941 - 1945 Flying Officer October 16, 1945 Toronto, Ontario |
F/O Anderson (Navigation Officer) is on the extreme left. He and crew are standing in front of their Wellington Night Torpedo Bomber, in Biskra, North Africa - October, 1943
Arthur Anderson ... in his own words
“I enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force in Winnipeg, Manitoba on July 4, 1941, was sent home and awaited a call for active service.
That came on September 1st, when I was sent to Brandon, Manitoba to Manning Depot. Here we were outfitted with uniforms, did some basic drill and had various “shots” for whatever diseases we may contact. There were so many Americans who had come to Canada to enlist in the Air Force and train to be Spitfire pilots that we air crew trainees were dubbed members of the Royal Texas Air Force.
Then it was on to guard duty at Estevan, Saskatchewan airdrome for 6 weeks. Finally, the posting to Initial Training School in Edmonton, Alberta. From there to Navigation school in Regina, Saskatchewan, bombing and gunnery at Mossbank, Saskatchewan, astro navigation at Rivers, Manitoba, and graduation as an observer.
Following a request for overseas service I was posted to Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island for sea navigation and to Greenwood, Nova Scotia to be crewed up. After embarkation leave, it was overseas from New York on the QEII. From the RCAF personnel centre in Southern England, we went to Limavady, Northern Ireland, Turnberry, Scotland and Talbenny, Wales for conversion to Wellington bombers for night torpedo training. Then we flew to North Africa and ferried our A/C to Cairo, Egypt. We were held there 2 months and it was back to England by troopship.
In England, we were posted to Down Ampney and converted to C-47 (Dakota) aircraft. Our task was to tow gliders, drop paratroops and re-supply same. This was in preparation for D-Day.
In May, I received an eye injury which sidelined me for 3 months. I was back on the squadron restricted to ground duties only. After a chat with the station medical doctor, I was allowed to fly on “local” hops, no operational flights. On September 3rd, our crew replacement navigator was on leave, so I was back with my crew and we flew 6 trips to Brussels. Our cargo was gasoline in jerry cans with the front lines just a few miles away. This was a delicate operation for an unarmed Dakota.
Then came Arnhem (Market Garden) which started September 17, 1944.
Our crew was assigned a glider tow on the 18th. Our replacement navigator was still away so I ignored the medical orders and went. Our glider was shot away by enemy ground fire 10 miles from the drop zone. We had 100 feet of tow rope, but no glider. We circled and watched the glider make a good landing. The 2 glider pilots removed the tail section of the glider, out came a jeep. The last we saw of them they were headed south at a good clip. The next day, September 19th, we were assigned a pannier (wicker baskets with chutes) drop. We had made our turn at Brussels and were over the drop zone, dropping our cargo, when both engines quit.
I need to mention that the pilot of the aircraft that went in just 1-2 minutes before us was F/Lt David Lord, DFC. Unfortunately the plane crashed. F/Lt Lord was later to receive the VC posthumously.
Our pilot made an excellent crash landing and we ran away from the aircraft as we were being fired at by enemy soldiers. We evaded capture and headed north. We assumed that we were in a spot between combat troops. We made a “good” contact a day later. A Dutch hunting estate manager was our first contact and he agreed to shelter and feed the 4 of us, which he did for 2 months.
An “underground” operation had been set up to get us back across the Rhine River. This group of 120 evaders included Dutch civilians, airmen who had been shot down and airborne who had evaded capture and were on the loose. The scheme failed and we had to scatter after being shot at. Two days later, I ran into 2 German airmen on patrol and was placed in the local airdrome jail.
A day later, I was bussed to Apeldoorn in the company of several American Airmen whose B-17 had crashed nearby. Then it was on to the Wetzlar, outfitted with winter clothing, then by train to Stalag Luft VII Bankau, near the Polish border, a British Aircrew camp. I arrived there on December 19th and was on the move again January 19th, 1945. The Russian winter offensive was moving West at a rapid rate. We were on the road “marching” for close to 3 weeks under extreme weather conditions and virtually no food. Having experienced -40 degree weather as a resident of Manitoba, this was no great shock, but it was hard on the English and Australians. This “trip” was well documented in the Air Force Magazine of April, 1995. Finally we got rail transport and arrived at Stalag 3A, a large transit camp, 35 miles southwest of Berlin.
There, it was wait for the Russian Army to come, which they did at the end of April. We knew what was going on because we had radios in the camp. The war was officially over May 6th, but we had to wait until U.S. trucks picked us up and took us to Halle on the West Bank of the Elbe River. We didn’t stay there very long just overnight. The next day we were on a U.S. C-47 to Brussels. There we were stripped of our clothes except for our shoes and given army battle dress. The next morning it was a Lancaster of the RAF that took us to England. The pilot, a young English lad, didn’t know that we were Aircrew POW’s and very officially told us to put on “Mae West” (a life vest) properly. We didn’t have the heart to spoil his fun. He did take us on a southerly route to England so we could see the “White Cliffs of Dover” which was a pleasant diversion.
Landing in England, we took a train to Bournemouth, the Aircrew reception centre for Canadians. Meeting us at the station was a small group to bus us to our quarters. They were shocked to see such a scraggly, skinny batch of airmen. The days in camp and the march had taken its toll. It didn’t take us long to put back the lost weight. The Officers’ Mess was open to us 24 hours a day. It was rest up and wait for transit to Canada. In a few weeks I was on board the Ile de France to Canada, docking at Halifax. It was there that my kid brother Dick (Navy) was stationed. Phil Fulmore, our wireless op and I were readying our berths on the train to Montreal. A fellow came into the coach and asked if there was a fellow in the coach named Anderson. It was Dick armed with a “mickey”. We had a party!
The next morning it was on to Montreal and Winnipeg. Two days later I was in my home town with my wife and family to greet me. I kept my optimistic promise to my wife that I would return. Three months later I received my discharge in Toronto. My military saga was over.”
That came on September 1st, when I was sent to Brandon, Manitoba to Manning Depot. Here we were outfitted with uniforms, did some basic drill and had various “shots” for whatever diseases we may contact. There were so many Americans who had come to Canada to enlist in the Air Force and train to be Spitfire pilots that we air crew trainees were dubbed members of the Royal Texas Air Force.
Then it was on to guard duty at Estevan, Saskatchewan airdrome for 6 weeks. Finally, the posting to Initial Training School in Edmonton, Alberta. From there to Navigation school in Regina, Saskatchewan, bombing and gunnery at Mossbank, Saskatchewan, astro navigation at Rivers, Manitoba, and graduation as an observer.
Following a request for overseas service I was posted to Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island for sea navigation and to Greenwood, Nova Scotia to be crewed up. After embarkation leave, it was overseas from New York on the QEII. From the RCAF personnel centre in Southern England, we went to Limavady, Northern Ireland, Turnberry, Scotland and Talbenny, Wales for conversion to Wellington bombers for night torpedo training. Then we flew to North Africa and ferried our A/C to Cairo, Egypt. We were held there 2 months and it was back to England by troopship.
In England, we were posted to Down Ampney and converted to C-47 (Dakota) aircraft. Our task was to tow gliders, drop paratroops and re-supply same. This was in preparation for D-Day.
In May, I received an eye injury which sidelined me for 3 months. I was back on the squadron restricted to ground duties only. After a chat with the station medical doctor, I was allowed to fly on “local” hops, no operational flights. On September 3rd, our crew replacement navigator was on leave, so I was back with my crew and we flew 6 trips to Brussels. Our cargo was gasoline in jerry cans with the front lines just a few miles away. This was a delicate operation for an unarmed Dakota.
Then came Arnhem (Market Garden) which started September 17, 1944.
Our crew was assigned a glider tow on the 18th. Our replacement navigator was still away so I ignored the medical orders and went. Our glider was shot away by enemy ground fire 10 miles from the drop zone. We had 100 feet of tow rope, but no glider. We circled and watched the glider make a good landing. The 2 glider pilots removed the tail section of the glider, out came a jeep. The last we saw of them they were headed south at a good clip. The next day, September 19th, we were assigned a pannier (wicker baskets with chutes) drop. We had made our turn at Brussels and were over the drop zone, dropping our cargo, when both engines quit.
I need to mention that the pilot of the aircraft that went in just 1-2 minutes before us was F/Lt David Lord, DFC. Unfortunately the plane crashed. F/Lt Lord was later to receive the VC posthumously.
Our pilot made an excellent crash landing and we ran away from the aircraft as we were being fired at by enemy soldiers. We evaded capture and headed north. We assumed that we were in a spot between combat troops. We made a “good” contact a day later. A Dutch hunting estate manager was our first contact and he agreed to shelter and feed the 4 of us, which he did for 2 months.
An “underground” operation had been set up to get us back across the Rhine River. This group of 120 evaders included Dutch civilians, airmen who had been shot down and airborne who had evaded capture and were on the loose. The scheme failed and we had to scatter after being shot at. Two days later, I ran into 2 German airmen on patrol and was placed in the local airdrome jail.
A day later, I was bussed to Apeldoorn in the company of several American Airmen whose B-17 had crashed nearby. Then it was on to the Wetzlar, outfitted with winter clothing, then by train to Stalag Luft VII Bankau, near the Polish border, a British Aircrew camp. I arrived there on December 19th and was on the move again January 19th, 1945. The Russian winter offensive was moving West at a rapid rate. We were on the road “marching” for close to 3 weeks under extreme weather conditions and virtually no food. Having experienced -40 degree weather as a resident of Manitoba, this was no great shock, but it was hard on the English and Australians. This “trip” was well documented in the Air Force Magazine of April, 1995. Finally we got rail transport and arrived at Stalag 3A, a large transit camp, 35 miles southwest of Berlin.
There, it was wait for the Russian Army to come, which they did at the end of April. We knew what was going on because we had radios in the camp. The war was officially over May 6th, but we had to wait until U.S. trucks picked us up and took us to Halle on the West Bank of the Elbe River. We didn’t stay there very long just overnight. The next day we were on a U.S. C-47 to Brussels. There we were stripped of our clothes except for our shoes and given army battle dress. The next morning it was a Lancaster of the RAF that took us to England. The pilot, a young English lad, didn’t know that we were Aircrew POW’s and very officially told us to put on “Mae West” (a life vest) properly. We didn’t have the heart to spoil his fun. He did take us on a southerly route to England so we could see the “White Cliffs of Dover” which was a pleasant diversion.
Landing in England, we took a train to Bournemouth, the Aircrew reception centre for Canadians. Meeting us at the station was a small group to bus us to our quarters. They were shocked to see such a scraggly, skinny batch of airmen. The days in camp and the march had taken its toll. It didn’t take us long to put back the lost weight. The Officers’ Mess was open to us 24 hours a day. It was rest up and wait for transit to Canada. In a few weeks I was on board the Ile de France to Canada, docking at Halifax. It was there that my kid brother Dick (Navy) was stationed. Phil Fulmore, our wireless op and I were readying our berths on the train to Montreal. A fellow came into the coach and asked if there was a fellow in the coach named Anderson. It was Dick armed with a “mickey”. We had a party!
The next morning it was on to Montreal and Winnipeg. Two days later I was in my home town with my wife and family to greet me. I kept my optimistic promise to my wife that I would return. Three months later I received my discharge in Toronto. My military saga was over.”
Arthur Anderson’s story appeared in
Communiqué - The Military Institute of Windsor, Volume XXXII, Number 8, September 2014, pages 11-12
Communiqué - The Military Institute of Windsor, Volume XXXII, Number 8, September 2014, pages 11-12
