Percy Harry Allan Kimpton

Written by his daughter, Deitra Kimpton: Dad's name was Al Kimpton (actually Percy Harry Allan Kimpton but he always went by Al).

Contributed by Jim Holsworth. 

Dad was born in Toronto on March 29, 1921. Son of Lt. Percy Francis Kimpton, London, England, who served in WWI in the 3rd Battalion The London Reguiment Royal Fusliers, dying at a very young age as a result of mustard gas poisoning, and Clara Bulman, London, England. His parents had moved to Canada on the advice of their physicians. The drier Canadian air better for Percy’s breathing as well as Clara’s rheumatoid arthritis. I think it was due to his father’s service in WWI and the fact he died when Dad was only a teenager that he developed a love of all things military and not only served but collected items wherever he could. 

He joined 3 (R) Div. Signals on March 26, 1943, having had to challenge the recruiting office to allow him to join which they at first rejected due to the fact that my Dad had one leg shorter than the other (accident as a child when he was 2 years old). He at first wanted to join the Air Force as his best friend, and my godfather, Stewart ("Bud") Sherwood had already joined. Rejected there, he wrote to then Primer Minister Mackenzie King, stating he saw no reason why if rejected for permanent regular force deployment due to his disability that he could not serve in some fashion on this side of the Atlantic. Mackenzie King agreed, meeting with him over coffee in the Prime Minister’s Office on Parliament Hill and providing Dad letter to take to the recruiting office who felt he would be best suited in 3 (R) Div. Signals. 

Dad loved everything about his military career despite only be able to be a reservist. He was an avid collector of all things military, but most especially Signals - the place where he was able to find a home. 

 He rose through the ranks quickly, and was a Sgt by the time the war ended. By 1968 he was RSM of the regiment (CWO A. Kimpton - RSM) and proud as punch to be so. He has the honour of being the last RSM of 3 Sigs and the first RSM of the then renamed 703 Ottawa Communications Regiment. His term of RSM came to an end November 3, 1973, literally weeks short of Dad gaining his second rosette (Canadian Forces Decoration or CD). Initiated on December 15, 1949 and first awarded on September 1, 1951, the medal replaced all other long service awards for those joining the Canadian Forces after September 1, 1939 and is still current and is awarded to officers and noncommissioned members of the Canadian Forces who have completed twelve years of service. 

Dad tried to get the short extension as he never wanted to be an officer but he was left no choice and as he wanted he second rosette, which is awarded to the Regular Forces, Reserve Forces and to Officers of the Cadet Instructors Cadre (CIC), Dad joined 2332 Cadet Corps in the Commission Rank of Lt. and served as their Admin Officer until July 1975. As I said, he never liked the fact that he was an officer but he certainly enjoyed helping the younger generation in the cadets and they were extremely happy to have him as stated in memos I found in his military file, “it is rare that someone with 30 years in the militia is willing to turn around and devote time and energy to the cadets” and so they wanted him! 

Amongst his many accomplishments, Dad was also an amateur artist, his pencil drawings of eveyone from Presidents, Prime Ministers, Royal family members, sports personalities and hollywood stars accumulated a collection of hundreds of autographed photographs and letters of appreciation from these people. If you Google his name you will see an article in the Toronto Star showing a young 18 year old artist who had caught the attention of the then Queen Elizabeth (http://www.gettyimages.ca/detail/news-photo/queen-accepts-ottawa-artists-pictures-allan-kimpton-18-year-news-photo/502822233#queen-accepts-ottawa-artists-pictures-allan-kimpton-18yearold-ottawa-picture-id502822233). And he had not yet started his military career! For his "day" job, he started at almost the same time as an office clerk in Munitions and Supply, finishing his government career in Income Tax as a forms designer. 

Once retired from both the military and the government, Dad went on to become an active member of the Royal Canadian Legion (Mongomery Branch 351, Ottawa) serving on the Poppy campaigns, as Treasurer, and other posts on the Executive, finishing by becoming branch President. 

My Dad started life with a disability and set out to prove he could do as much if not more than those able bodied and I think he suceeded admirably. Dad passed away September 13, 2004, Ottawa.

Signals in the Arctic – By LCol (Retd) Bill Cowperthwaite

Although back in the day Signals was considered one of the combat arms along with the Engineers, it has been some time since they were accorded that distinction, as they are now seen as combat support arms. The point here is that back in 1973. I Squadron from the Signal Regiment was selected to attend the arctic combat arms training program in Resolute Bay, the first non-Infantry unit to do so.

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Sparky MacKenzie loved her time in the BCATP

By Ross Lees

For nearly three and a half years, beginning in 1942, Canadian  Allison “Sparky” MacKenzie served as a wireless operator and, she says, loved her work.

She was given the best wireless set and the most powerful transmitter in England and sent the time signal to bombers flying missions over Germany.

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A Guiding Light by George Pambrun

It was my first Fallex in Soltau, Lunenberg Hyde, North West Germany.  I was very impressed with this part of Germany, it had large fields of potatoes and vast areas of purple heather, very unique. There were wild boar and deer. The German Forest Meisters kept their forests clean and free of any underbrush, great for picnics and walks.  The trees were pine and very tall and they provided excellent over head and surrounding cover.

We were part of the Advance party and we were set up on the edge of a large field next to a forest.  This was where I first met Elizabeth, ( I can’t remember her last name, or if I ever knew it,) she was a member of the Salvation Army, who drove a food wagon for the NAAFI.  She, followed the troops on Excercise and provided them with refreshments and small personal items, at a low cost, even flash lites and batteries.  You could run a tab on items and that's how I bought a flashlite, I mentioned that I had forgot to buy a flashlite, which was an necessity on those excercises.  I didn’t have any money till payday, she said here, pay me on payday.

She was set up on the edge of the field in a van converted into a food truck, it had a side serving window and at night it gave off light that could be seen plainly and for a distance.  Elizabeth was a very pleasant middle age woman with lots of energy and a very pleasant out going personality.  Always a smile and willing to take time and talk with whomever on whatever.  She was much like a Mom to many.

Most of our movement was at nite under cover of darkness and we would proceed on a two or three hour drive by convoy, arrive at our new location to find “the guiding light” Elizabeth already set up and ready to do business.  It was uncanny because this became a norm, she could read a map better than most, and she had all our locations. I never knew where she slept, I would suspect in the van.  It didn’t seem proper to ask a lady where she slept and did her ablutions.

We would move into a hide in the middle of the night, pitch black  and figure you were in the middle of no where, and these were bag driving excecsises,  so we were normally very tired.  It was not unusual to wake up in the morning with an audience.  Sundays, were the German families days to enjoy the outdoors and they loved their spetzean (walks).  On excersise, you never knew what day it was, so to be safe, when you got up, it was best to be partially clothed, where and when you scratched and relieved yourself?  It was not unusual to have eyes upon you.  The one constant was if you missed a meal, you could always get a coffee and snack at Elizabeths diner. When Elizabeth was not on Excercise, she worked in the Salvation Army center in down town Soest, Judy and I used to see her quite regularly on weekends, as we lived around the corner.

I rotated back to Canada in 1968 and did not see Elizabeth again, but I did hear that there was a retirement party for her.  I think she should be remembered for her dedication and friendship to members of 4CIBG.

  

An Old Soldier (Cpl Hughes) by George Pambrun

It was in Ft Henry, Germany, in 1965-66, and we received word that a new arrival was being posted into the Signal Squadron. Word had it that he was a Corporal with 6 years in the Army and he was being awarded a PMQ in Soest. This had quite a few people upset as PMQ were a rarity and awarded with time in the service, it wasn’t t ill later that we learned that he had 18 years with the British Army, during WW2 and had served in Germany just after WW2.

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Cpl Hughes was his name and he was a very interesting and extraordinary person and had many experiences and stories to share. I never knew his first name and he didn’t mind Hughie, I spent many hours with Hughie in the back of the Administration Control Radio Van listening to his stories. He always smoked a pipe and was a gentleman, never swore and was pleasant to be with.

He was considerably older than the majority of us and he was probably in his early forties. He had a slight build and was of medium height.  He had pleasant facial features and wore quite thick glasses.  His walking out dress was that of a middle class British gentleman. He wore a hat, had a tweed wool jacket, with leather patches on the elbows, white shirt with cravat, dress slacks and brogue shoes, very highly polished and all of this accentuated by the ever presence of a pipe. He was of a quiet demeanor, sophisticated, very well read, experienced traveler and knowledgeable but by no means a snob.

He was very experienced as a soldier and had traveled extensively with the British Army and had served in India in the late 1940s.  He had a friend in the Indian Army and he used to travel on foot to his friends home on leave, in the lawless remote area of northern India, and to do so they would have to take weapons with them for personal protection. He had many interesting stories, of experiences on these visits about the culture and history of the tribal people.

He did not stay in Rear Troop very long as he was recognized for his job knowledge, experience and maturity and transferred to the Communication Center (ComCen).  He was not awed by Senior Staff Officers and for that matter the Brigade Commander. 

One story was that while on Exercise in Soltau, one Friday evening, there was no one around of any authority, so Hughie made a command decision and sent the Dispatch Rider (DR) on the scheduled run. It so happened that the General was working late and had a message to be sent by DR. The Chief clerk found out the DR had been released and Cpl Hughes got supreme shit and further to that he was not to dispatch the DR with out checking with the General. The chastisement was unwarranted and Cpl Hughes was a little perturbed, and took him literally, and would walk into the General's office, didn’t matter what was going on, and asked if the General had any messages to be sent with the DR.  

The General, thought this to be considerate of the Cpl and after some time happened to mention it to the CO Sigs. When asked why he circumvented the chain of command, Hughie could honestly say he was so directed by the Chief clerk. Hughie knew that he was to use the chain of command but he was a cagey old devil and there was some embarrassed staff over that one. It wasn’t long before he was given the deference deserved of his knowledge, service and experience.

One day shortly after I had got to know him, I asked him if he would drive me into Soest, as Judy had our car that day. Hughie was more than willing, so I cleared it with L/Sgt Jerry Leger and we departed in Hughie’s Volkswagen Stationwagon, and headed into Soest by way of the Missile sites road. I quickly, and with concern, observed when Hughie went to shift gears, he looked down at the stick shift and watched his hand go through the motion while shifting from one gear to the next. As he did this the car was drifting left or right on the road. As you may recall, many of the secondary roads were narrow and no shoulder. By the time we passed the old Gasthaus, that we used to frequent, my feet were up on the dash and I was saying to Hughie for “Chris sake watch the road.” We met several vehicles and he would jerk the vehicle to the right or left, just in time. By the time we got into Soest, I was a nervous wreck. I don’t know how we got back to the Fort but I just know that as much as I liked Hughie I never rode with him again.

Hughie was transferred from Radio Tp to the ComCen and I never saw him that often, after, because he worked shifts. Now, as many of you will recall all Radio Operators (Rad Op) had to have there DND 404 (Military Drivers License) in order to draw trades pay. Teletype Operators (Tel Op) did not have to have that qualification. Consequently Rad Ops used to get a lot of the extra driving duties and it was a point of contention. Anyway one of my buddies was a Tel Op who worked in the ComCen but at this time did not know Hughie.

One Happy Hour we were discussing this driver situation over a few beers and I told him how it irked me, he just laughed and goaded me on. So knowing that Hughie was now in the ComCen and one of the few drivers, and knowing Hughies driving weakness. I said to my friend I would bet him that by the time we get back from Soltau that he and all his Tel Ops would be getting there DND 404 and that he would encourage it. He said something to the effect Bull Shit. So I said I would bet a case of Snap Capps and we were on.

On the convoy to Soltau I had arranged to be in the ComCen packet and serial and behind the packet leader who happened to be Cpl Hughes and my Tel Op friend. Now the vehicle was a ¾ ton PU and the gearshift is much bigger, longer and covers more area than a VW.  Hughie followed the same procedure and you could tell when he was changing gears, as the vehicle would drift to the left or right. Now when we got to Soltau, my friend confronted me, called me every derogatory name that he could think of and then some and he said, “You knew about this, you rotten bastard.” He was angry, after that terrifying journey, I tried to deny it but was unsuccessful. I still have to chuckle after all those years. It didn’t end there because now on the way back to Ft Henry, we were in the same line up and when we got to Menden there was a British Army barracks on our right, so Hughie just pulled right in and the rest of the packet followed and toured around the camp. The gate guards seemed to realize the mistake lifted the barrier and never stopped us. I think by the time we got back on the route we had joined a Serial behind us. When I asked Hughie about it later, he said, “George it just seemed natural, I was stationed there after the war.” It wasn’t long after we got back that I got my winnings and the boys in ComCen got their DND 404, it was a win-win situation.

Now it doesn’t end here, we get back to Ft Henry and many of us go on holidays, so it leaves some sections with fewer bodies. One day they are short of a DR and Hughie has to take the run, in a small Volkswagen beetle, on a run to Soest. Soest is a 1000-year-old walled city and it was built long before the automobile. Many of the streets are one-way and Grandweg Strasse just around the corner from the Crystal bar was part of the route, it’s leading to one of the ancient gates leading to Ft Chambly and Bielefeld.  Down the street, there was a jog in street and a storefront, directly in the path and required a quick maneuver to right and then back left. The store had an all glass front and that is just about where Hughie would be changing gears and Yep, Hughie buried that VW right into that Jewelry store, lucky no one was hurt, just shook up.

There was a Military Police Platoon in FT Henry and many of us messed and frolicked together and it happened the MP that conducted the investigation was a friend and he said, he thought that Hughie had been drinking, there was no other explanation, as the accident took place at 1030 hrs in the morning.  No I said my friend I can tell you exactly what happened!

The last I heard of Hughie was that he became a Psychologist and was working at one of the Penitentiaries in Kingston, Ont.

Its not my intention in anyway to belittle or ridicule his image as a soldier or person but to honor him by remembering him and writing about incidents that I recall involving him, I admired him and respected him as a fellow soldier and  friend.

He was just not a great driver and that’s the end of the story.

Sack McLaren by George Pambrun

I first met Sack in 1968. I had just got posted in from Germany to 2 Signal Squadron Camp Petawawa, Ont. It was in the summer, when I first was introduced to Sgt McLaren who was in charge of the Line Section. Dennis Stow and Tommy Carter were the first members of the Sqn that I met and they introduced me to him. He was a big strapping Lad who was friendly and had a good sense of humor and a strange little laugh, yet you knew there was a line and I never really knew if he was serious or joking.

Most of the Sqn members were on leave so I had the opportunity to get to know him at work and on the golf course. When playing golf with Sack you soon got used to the occasional whirring sound that a golf club makes when it’s thrown viciously through the air and lands with a thud. It was funny but none of us ever laughed, I had been prewarned, so we just played on after he recovered his club.

I, along with Paul Murphy, Brian Suitcase Simpson, Gerry Gilles, and another Gerry can’t remember his last name, played on the Squadron Hockey team, and the Base Hockey team, and Sack was an ardent fan. So again I got to know him a bit better, and he me.

            I was on a course at the School of Signals in Kingston, Ont and was drinking in the Junior ranks mess which at the time was in the old Research building which was now occupied by the 1 CDN SIGNAL REGIMENT.

            I was drinking with George Heath and several other lineman, who were also on course and we were getting quite chemically enhanced. I remember George because before the end of the evening, I got into a scuffle with him. He was in combats and I was in civilian attire. Pete Fox said years later that “you and George were joking and laughing and the next thing I knew you were fighting” We ended up on the floor after throwing and connecting punches rolling on broken glass, after breaking several tables.

            Terry Pringle steps in and he is trying to break us up and he receives a black eye for his efforts but he finally gets us separated, my blazer is in shreds from the glass, other than that I have a couple of flat lips and a black eye. George is not that worse for wear, probably the same I remember getting a couple of good licks in. The next thing the duty NCO arrives and wants to know what is going on. Terry saves the day by saying just a little disagreement. If we pay for the broken glasses and fix the tables would he be satisfied. He agrees and we clean up, Terry fixes the tables and we leave the mess.

            The next morning I wake up a little under the weather and a bit stiff and sore. I go to the mess hall and have breakfast and am just coming out when I see a convoy of vehs lined up extending to BB3 and standing in front was Sgt McLaren. He spies me, he calls, “Cpl Pamburn, I want to speak with you.” So I walk over and he says to me in not a friendly manner “ I want you to stay the hell away from my Lineman. I never did know if he was serious or joking.

            I got posted back to Germany shortly after that and over the years I got to see Sack on his visits to the Brigade. We both got posted to Winnipeg and eventually were together in CFB Kingston. Over the years, we remained friends and during his travels he always would make a point of looking me up and we would have a good visit. I had lots of respect for him as a friend and soldier.

      During these postings I got to know Marlene and their son Danny. I had met Marlene in Petawawa but didn’t know her well. She was always a bit distant. We lost contact after I was posted to CFB Edmonton in 1984.

            At the 2003 reunion, 100 yr Anniversary, we got reacquainted with Marlene. Sack had died a few years prior and she was there on her own. So we sat with mutual friends, the Haines, Burt and Marg and Norm and Arlene Wall, we were doing some reminiscing. (To those persons reading this that may not know me I have always let people know that I’m an Indian (Casino) and proud of it) I’m not an activist and enjoy sharing good humor and having fun.

            After a lengthy time and a few drinks, Marlene, Said “you know George, I never really liked you.” I was shocked because everyone loved me? …. So after a few several tense minutes I asked her “why”. She said because I asked you to dance with me at a Sqn function in Petawawa and you said, “no, I don’t dance with white women.” Situation was quite tense. Now I have done a lot of stupid things in my life but I have never refused to dance when asked. So there was a poignant pause and Judy over heard our conversation. And in my defense, she said, “I find that hard to believe, as much of an idiot that George can be, at times, I have never known him to refuse a dance!”

            Well Marlene said, “it was at a Sqn dance at drill hall J in Petawawa in 1967 Centennial festivities. Then we both said, “It wasn’t George because we never left Germany till 1968.

That Gow dammed Cliff  Pompana (another Indian we first met in Petawawa 1968) continued to haunt me after all these years. I said, “I’t wasn’t me it, was Cliff Pompana, (Cliff had a good sense of humor,a  lot of people didn’t understand) another Indian and she acknowledge, her mistake, so I couldn’t leave it lie, I said, looking rather hurt, I said “As I’ve always said, all us Indians look alike to you white”

Invasion of Vimy by George Pambrun

I was stationed in CFB Petawawa in the late 60’s and I and two other Signals members Paul Murphy and Brian (Suitcase) Simpson were on the CFB Petawawa Base Hockey team. Capt Murray MacDonald was the Ops Officer with the Helicopter Sqn and also was the manager of the hockey team.

On one occasion he had arranged a training flight, by Huey Helicopter, the flight plan was to fly from CFB Petawawa to CFB Kingston with crew and members of the CFB Petawawa Stags, Hockey team, as passengers. The final destination was the Barriefield parade square, which would be cleared of snow.

Now this does not say much for the pilots orientation abilities but somehow the pilots got mixed up and instead of landing on the Barriefield parade square they proceeded to do a frontal assault on the Vimy parade square. I don't know what else you would call it, and it must have shocked the hell out of those in the surrounding buildings.

As the 5 choppers landed unannounced and in single file, people stopped what they were doing and some came out of the buildings to watch this unexpected disruption.

Now anyone, familiar with the Army parade squares know that they were sacred grounds and they were safe guarded by a supreme being known as a Regimental Sergeant Major, whose main objective in life was to instill discipline on inferior beings I know this because I had encounters with several in my short time in the Army. Two of them being Patricia’s RSMs, Austin (PPCLI Depot) and Buxton (Germany). I was not willing to expose myself to the wrath of another whose reputation had preceded them.

The RSM of the School of Signals had a reputation that was second to none. When confronted, they could pick out dress or marching infractions which could lead to extra work and drill (no one was perfect in their eyes), except them? One would walk a block or two out of the way, just to avoid meeting up with him.

There was about 2 feet of snow on the square and that should have been an indication, to the pilots, however, common sense is not as common as we like think it is? The choppers were in single file, facing the Forde building and on disembarking the aircraft, all non signal personnel proceeded to the main entrance, as there appeared to be a reception party.  The Signal personnel remained on board and had to be forced off the aircraft on to the sacred ground. The few times anyone was allowed on the square, you were on parade, authorized training or retraining (defaulters), or you were cleaning it. We never followed the rest of the crowd; we walked the shortest distance off the square.

Now all Signal persons, know that only Officers enter/exit through the front entrance of the Forde building. All other meaningless beings will use the side doors on either side.  I checked with Terry Murphy, as to who was the school RSM at the time, and we believe it to be Stan (The Man) Reading.

Now he had a reputation along with many other RSM's throughout the Army and its one that neither of us Signal persons wanted to cross. He met those unworthy of entrance and directed them to the proper areas of entry and then asked if there were any Signal persons present. None of us Signal personnel would acknowledge our presence. Now I don't know what he would have done to us had we come forward and admitted our identity. He may have bawled the hell out of us for not informing these individuals of the sacred ground, and forbidden entrance to the unworthy. Or he may have welcomed us with open arms, (none of us were willing to take that chance). We will never know. I can't remember, anyone telling me what the RSM said to the Pilots nor did I care. One thing for sure, we quickly remounted our aircraft and got the hell out of "DODGE' and flew to our proper destination.

It was shortly after integration and a different time in my career, it was interesting, confusing at times and a fun time. The colourful, feared and talked about RSMS were changing and it was becoming the end of an era. Signs of change were in the wind and a lot of our traditions and culture were going to be lost. We didn't know, it at the time but it was happening.

Today Parade Squares for the most parts are parking lots and missing only parking meters. I do know, when I dawn my old Signal Corps blazer with medals and attend a parade or step on a parade square, I brace up what ever I can and march proudly, with old memories of years gone by, come to mind.
Now we all know that change is inevitable and we will go with the flow but we don't have to like it.
I guess it’s a sign of the times?

Helen Rapp

Helen Rapp, the youngest of five children, was born on July 15, 1925 in Schumacher, Ontario. Her dad and older brothers were gold miners. Ms. Rapp's brothers enlisted when the Second World War began, and she used her drafting studies to obtain a job with General Electric in Hamilton, where she helped assemble Bofors guns. When women were permitted to join, she enlisted and served in Ottawa. Ms. Rapp attained the rank of Sergeant and managed the office which controlled all Communication in Canada.


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The Case of the Missing Sticky Buns by George Pambrun

The Case of the Missing Sticky Buns by George Pambrun

What makes this case unusual, interesting and catchy is the title, which leads one to believe that it’s a funny story and initially, it was and then it wasn't, then it was. It all started with a comment made by a Snr Offr in the, Offr and Snr Nco coffee lounge, "no sticky buns today?"

I hope that you who read this, take it in the context for which it was intended. This story although humorous as reflected by the title, did have serious issues and consequences.

At the time I was stationed in Germany, Lahr to be precise in the Black Forest, with 4CMBG HQ and SIGNAL SQUADRON at the Kaserne. This story took place sometime around 1973-4, and I feel compelled to write on it because of its significance.

As I reflect back on our life in the Signal Squadrons, there were a lot of good people, good and tough times and all there for one purpose, to soldier, we were a large family, within a larger community and this became more evident when we were overseas. We did not have close family to rely on and our friends and comrades became our extended family. In the event of illness or deaths we turned to each other for support and if a soldier strayed from the basic disciplines, he would be dealt with, in the system for infractions and that could be by, Extra work and drill, a Summary trial or a Courts Martial, depending on the seriousness of the offence. I have to believe it was for the benefit of the system and for the individual being tried. For the most part, we had good and caring leaders.

This story took place not long after integration and this may have or not have an influence on the soldiers decision.

The Squadron had a small canteen that was run by the cooks and they provided coffee and snacks for coffee break and lunch. There was also a satellite canteen of sorts (no pun intended) in the HQ building for Officers and Snr Ncos providing coffee and German donuts and cakes often referred to as Sticky Buns. They were delivered by one of the cooks prior to coffee break each working day.

One day the Sticky Buns were not delivered as there was only one cook on duty and he could not leave the canteen, so he never made the delivery.

It so happened that the Sticky Buns were a favorite of the SSO Ops Col Evraire, who made the innocent comment, " no Sticky Buns today". What followed, was a sequence of events, the CO of the SQN over heard the comment and said to the SSM “Where are the Sticky Buns and the SSM turned to the SGT and the SGT phoned the M/Cpl Cook and the cook said "I am alone and I can’t leave the canteen unattended. So the Sgt, relays to the SSM and the SSM to the CO and the CO is pissed so he says to the SSM tell the Sgt to tell the cook to have the first person that comes into the canteen to deliver the Sticky Buns over here Tout suite”. So the SSM says to the, well you get the drift.

So the cook gets the Sticky Buns ready for the first person that comes into the canteen, it happens to be a Technician and he refuses to take the Sticky Buns, claiming that he is not a delivery person, "I am a Technician" or words to that effect? So to make a long story short, the Buns don’t get delivered. As I reflect back on that time in history, there was some sympathy. However there is that rule that says you can think what you want but seldom do you ever say it.

Sometime later the CO says to the SSM and away we go? The Sgt has to do an investigation and find out what happened? He finds out what happened and makes his report to the SSM, who reports to the CO. The CO says charge the Technician, SSM says to the SGT charge the Technician and the wheels are put in motion and the Technician is officially charged and put to summary trial.

I am not sure how I got mixed up in the trial? I must have been duty NCO and ended up as an escort. Anyway we end up before the CO who is Major Gerry Coady and the SSM is Sergeant Major Bob Conroy and the Sgt. I don’t remember the other participants.

The usual proceedings follow the CO says to the SSM march the guilty bastard in” No, I am just joking. That was a common joke amongst us soldiers that had been on “Orders Parade” and I thought I would throw it in as an added bit of humour..

The trial begins and after the preliminaries the CO asks the accused, if he has anything to say in his defence? The accused obviously believes and is convinced that he is justified in his actions and he goes into a long spiel about that he was a technician that his job was that above being a delivery boy. I am thinking, this is the wrong approach, it should be more of an extension of the truth look for clemency at this stage. i.e.: (my sister has joined a religious order and became an nun, or my brother joined the Van Doos any thing but what your saying.) that’s why I made this decision? I can see the CO's jaw twitching and I am thinking this is not good.

The CO asks if he is finished, the accused answers in the affirmative. Then the CO lights into the accused with what every trained soldier knows, that in the Army, you are a soldier first and a tradesman second. A soldier is taught to defend himself and his buddies and that has to come first and foremost before and above anything else. Do you understand, "what I have said soldier"? "Yes" was the reply. I hope this has been a valuable lesson to you. And I know you are a good soldier and tradesman. "I find you guilty as charged, One hundred and fifty dollar fine, Sergeant Major march em out." Man my jaw dropped along with a few others we figured it out later to be $15 dollars a STICKY BUN, that was a lot of money in the 70's.

Four things happened that day, 1. the reaffirmation of the principle, that you are a soldier first and foremost and a tradesman last. 2. When your given a job do, do, it or suffer the consequences 3. any mention of Sticky Buns transfers, soldiers immediately started, doubling asking where and when and 4. the guilty party was affectionately referred to as “Sticky Buns”.

As a result, there was wide respect for the Co, Major Jerry Coady, SSM Bob Conroy and the Sgt, first, for recognizing the situation, which was disobeying a lawful command and second the courage to deal with it. The outcome could have been a hell u va lot worse, from many aspects.

I have to admit I admired the young soldier and how he dealt with the results of this conviction. He admitted his erred ways, learned from his mistake, went on to become a good soldier, tradesman and took the ribbing.

Years later I had occasion to be sent back to Germany as an Umpire on a Reforger Exercise. All units met in Hohenfels, prior to the EX and I had met up with a few friends, Vince David and Andy Blais. We decided to visit the Service Battalion lines and visit with Ken Chessman, the Sigs troop Warrant, we found him in the mess and sitting at the next table with his back to us, was Sticky Buns a Mcpl, I believe. So I couldn’t pass this up and after the social amenities I said in a loud voice "I wonder where I could get some Sticky Buns. Sticky Buns braced up upon hearing my comment and he said without hesitation, “ I don’t have to even turn around to know who you are, you arrogant bastard Pambrun” and we all had a good laugh

That was the last time I saw him. I never mentioned his name, to protect the innocent and those that were there at the time will remember. VVV

Fort Henry, Soest West Germany 1965-68 by George Pambrun

I was posted to 4CIBG HQ and Signal Sqn, Fort Henry, West Germany in May 1965 and this is a recollection of some experiences and accounts that happened during my tour. It pertains to more than just another posting but a life style change. Life as it was and how we were able to overcome boredom and hardships. How sports was not only an enjoyment and pastime for soldiers but also in some cases entertainment for colleagues and dependents.

I have included some of the names of the soldiers that I remembered, those I missed I apologize.

How the Signal Sqn was able to bring radio play by play into the barracks and homes of dependents.  I had been posted to Shilo Man, 2 SSM BTY and on posting to Germany, my wife of one month was sent on an SPR to her fathers farm in Sask. I then proceeded to Trenton, Ontario and departed for the city of Dusseldorf, W/Germany and after a 11 hour flight, on a Yukon, we were put on buses and transported to Fort St Louis at Werle. The Signals personnel were picked up by Staff Sgt Hayes and brought to Ft Henry. There we were billeted in Barracks about 20 personnel to a room ,bed spaces, separated only by lockers. The next few days we cleared in and were assigned to a troop Rear or Main and as the Sqn was on exercise in Sennelager we were given a few days to secure Quarters off base for our spouses. I can only surmise what happened after my wife was sent on an SPR, the SSM Bty went on excersise and followed by leave, postings and new personnel, the Sqn in Germany was also going through the same phases and somewhere along the line, she was dropped through the cracks and was lost in the system. I had mentioned we were only married a month before posting instructions so after a month and no communications from the military about her departure and I being sent to Sennelager shortly after arrival in Germany, one has to understand that mail was slow and the phone system was unreliable from Europe, Well her family was beginning to have doubts about my integrity. So they started with Camp Dundurn and had no joy so they then tried Moose Jaw which was an Air Base. After some time, they did get through to Shilo . Now on top of this confusion you have a frantic wife, mother and father-in-law in doubt and new personnel trying to figure out what to do, Well they eventually got it figured out after about two months and she received her travel orders. Those were the days that the Army thought if you needed a wife they would have issued you with one. I know its an old cliche but anyone that was around at that time will understand.

After my initial intro into this strange land of handles for door knobs and a quick briefing by CPL Paul Cook and Jim Lefebvre on culture and language, and that peeing against a wall in a Gasthof was ok (that's another story). This followed by an initiation to Germany through the Green Shack. (local Gasthof). This was my first posting to the Brigade Group, 4CIBG HQ and Signal Squadron. The CO was Major Elliote and the SSM was George MacMillan. The Brigade was divided into three distinct areas where different units were situated Soest, Werle and Iserlohne and all with dependents living in different little villages on the economy. Transportation and language was a major barrier for most families that lived in rural communities. Each area had centrally located schools for dependent children and Military food stores to purchase food and other items of necessity. The hospital was BMH located in Iserlohne. There had to be about 10,000 people with the soldiers and their families.

There were a lot of people with limited entertainment outside of the Base messes, the Red Patch club and the Sally Ann in Soest, the other areas all had the same sort of resources. TV was virtually nonexistent and if it was, it would be in German. Limited phone system facilities and undependable, mail was slow. Radio was German, US, British. CAE was our local Canadian Radio Broadcast station at Werle and it serviced all areas. So, much of our entertainment was through local sports between the Major and Minor units. Hockey, at the time was a big thing in Canada and Sat nite was hockey nite in Canada almost every village, town, city had a hockey team and they filled the arenas. Well, the same was happening in the Canadian military bases in Europe and they had a large fan base, made up of Servicemen, family members and Germans. The Air Force had a league in Southern Germany and France and the Army had a league in Northern Germany, Each Major unit had a team, I am not sure when, it started but there were ice hockey arenas in the three areas i previously mentioned. Ft Chambly had a hockey team that played in the Major units league, made up of minor units personnel from Fts. Henry and Chambly, Werle and Iserlohne had similar teams. Signal personnel were well represented and if a Sigs player ended up anywhere other than Ft Henry and he was a good player you could bet your puttees it would be rectified the following year. Hockey was taken seriously and the Huskies were known as the Brigade Commanders team, unofficially of course. For the next three years names like Frank Peters, Paul Murphy, John Murray, George Indian Pambrun and Tinker Branscombe played for the Ft Chambly Huskies. During this period the Huskies won the League championship, twice and the playoffs once and the Saurerland cup trophy. Ft Henry had a hockey team in the minor league made up primarily of 4 Signal Squadron personnel, with players like Les Adams, Danny Dumas, Jean Vezina,Tim Fields, Earle Shields, John Clements, Ikey Bonnefont, Gerry Coady, Billy Ford and goal tenders "Make them shoot from the red line" Doggie Clyke and Pepe Lemieux. We also had a super Ball Team, with players such as Ike Bonnefant, Tim Fields, Jim Nelson, Magistate, Billy Ford, Jim Laird, Fred Crow, Smiley Furness and George Pambrun and we also competed in Volley Ball and Basketball, One year under the directorship of Dick Wilbur and Dave Russell we won three championships, Hockey, Softball and Volleyball. The year of the Centennial 1967 was when the Canadian marching teams first participated as a contingent in the famous 4 Day Nijmegen Marches, where we had our own billets and kitchen. Names such as Joie Durrell, Zip A'hearn, Les Adams, Bob Molyneaux, George Pambrun, Jim Lefebvre, Pete Fox and Lt Terriault. We marched (not walked) the whole way thanks to Sgts Adams and Molyneaux, I said at that time I would never do this again.

I had mentioned that entertainment was limited and that few people had transportation. I would like to mention how the ingenuity and effort of personnel of 4 Signal Sqn were able to bring play by play hockey games to the fans that could not attend, by employing existing military equipment. Radio Relay was a relatively new system in the army and capable of handling large volumes of message traffic, it was a Brit System but not user friendly in many ways. By this I mean it required a technician to operate the radios and the mast and antenna were made of heavy metal and used a spar system and winch to erect. It required at least 5 or 6 personnel a couple of hours or more, depending on conditions, to put up the apparatus. Someone in their infinite wisdom came up with the idea to broadcast hockey games, play by play, into the local area, something that had never been done before. I remember Cpl Burt Haines being in charge of one of the stations. They would have one detachment near the arena where the game was being played and the other detachment at CAE where it was hooked into the system for rebroadcast by Tech Sgt Mitchell. The system worked well.   Paul Cook was a self taught play by play commentator and Russ Barnaby was a colour commentator. They had a Hot Stove portion and conducted interviews to help promote interest.There were many Sigs personnel who were behind the scenes and I can't remember their names but it does this old soldiers heart good to remember some of them. All members of the Sqn played a part in the planning, logistics and operation of the system,witch brought joy and entertainment to the local area listeners.

I want to end this with a funny story as I had previously mentioned my wife never got over for 2 months and that was true of many other couples. And I mentioned this because it plays a part in this story. We, the Fort Chambly Huskies used to travel to Holland, Belgium and France, and played against local hockey teams, Well, this one time we were in Holland playing in Amsterdam and it was one time we brought our spouses and girl friends. After the game we had dinner and a few drinks and someone decided that we should take the women down to see the sites on Canal Street. So, off we went with great anticipation and the wives and girlfriends holding tightly on to their spouses. They were apprehensive and were not sure how the girls on the street may react. Many of our team were single and experienced and they told our spouses, not to stare but be polite and act natural (what the hell does that mean)? No one wants to be embarrassed I suspect. We got onto the street and there, were the girls of the nite, all makes shapes and nationalities (a young mans dream, yeah right), in doorways and in the windows, classy and well dressed. One of the street girls very well groomed and pretty, hollers out of the blue and too our shock and dismay" Tinker baby, where have you been, I missed you and how are you doing? Come to Momma." and she grabs him. There was dead silence and a million thoughts are racing through minds You could have heard a pin drop and I still have memory of Judy"s strangling grip on my upper arm. We are all aghast, mouths open ( remember what I said about separation anxiety, well its kicks in) This could be any one? Nancy, Tinkers wife, has a death grip on him, jaw drops in utter astonishment and disbelief, followed by a poignant pause. (Tinker was our goal tender a Sgt and a bit older than most of us). After what seemed to be an eternity, this girl starts to laugh and says "Gotcha". one of your friends had set you up, Tommy Thompson, a single rat, with a mischievous attitude, fesses up . After a period of time blood pressure starts to return to normal. Adrenaline is still running high and we all start to laugh. I will never forget that moment and that girl, she was so polite and apologetic with Nancy. What a night to remember.
 One has to understand and appreciate the time frame. Germany was still recovering from the war, we had just been through the Cuban Missile crisis and we are sitting in Northern Germany part of the BAOR in the middle of what appeared to be, nowhere. Few people had cars, most Germans did not. We as soldiers had little pay, so we had to make the best of it and we did. We were there as an integral part of the Defence Force but we also had to exist as communities, of which we did and sports played a major role. 4 Signal Sqn and personnel played a great part in helping and providing that entertainment We also have to salute our spouses for enduring the hardships and the support they gave us.

This was only some of my memories of of that period and Fort Henry which no longer exists. The last time I was there the camp was being torn down and it was to become a housing development.. The Green Shack is no longer a shack but a very upstanding Gasthof… but the friendly ghosts of those soldiers and experiences that helped it get there will always be there to haunt it.

Discrimination and Harassment by George Pambrun

Discrimination and Harassment by George Pambrun

I was attending a Communications Command conference in Trenton, Ont around 1979-80 and it was made up of members from all the Communication Groups across Canada. The meet and greet was great and the Command Chief CWO Tommy O’Neil, Joey Izzard, LC Smith, and many others partied into the wee hours of the morning. The next morning Tommie looked like he never had a drink and the rest of us looked and felt like death warmed over.

Tommy was conducting the opening remarks and an address on the topics of Discrimination and Harassment, so I thought I would just veg. through this, you know how long winded and verbose he could be, so I pushed my chair back so I wouldn’t be noticed. And I could hear him talking on the subject and that we were to be aware of and what courses of action, blah blah blah.

Then he related to an incident for which he was accused of discrimination and that he was harassed. This happened, following a Change of Command parade in CFB Petawawa in the late 60’s. He was the SSM and he went on to describe in detail the preparations for the parade, taking pain staking precautions to ensure everything was perfect. “The troopies were made up of all different, races and ethnic groups, it looked like a UN parade, he said.” The Officers and Commanding officer had taken over the parade and the Brigade Commander, staff and spectators were in the stands. He said he saw movement on the right side of the parade ground and saw two soldiers standing there. It was then he said, “I realized my oversight.” There were no Indians on this parade. The rest of the parade went off without a hitch and he felt very good about the whole affair It wasn’t until after the parade that he was unceremoniously accosted by these two characters and accused of discrimination, in that there were no Indians on his parade and then, he was unceremoniously harassed after the fact. Can you imagine, Tommie being harassed? And he said “further to this, one of those abusers is present here today".

I had started to pay closer attention, after the word Indian and started looking for the guilty bastard. I saw everyone staring at me. He had painted such an over exaggerated word picture of the event that it was hilarious especially coming from someone of his position and rank and storytelling ability, and the fact that I had developed quite a reputation over the years that everyone was laughing, and looking at me. Over the years Tommy found the story humorous and he felt comfortable enough to exploit this incident and turn it into a very funny story and relating it to the topic of Discrimination and Harassment only reverse to the normal situation, him being the victim. He had to have told that story many times in order to perfect it, as he did. He had been looking in my direction all along, unbeknownst to me, the audience followed the direction of his stare, (Tommie’s eyes (glass eye).

Now we all know that Tommy, God rest his soul, was a fine story teller. The story had some merit to it and on occasion, Cliff Pompana or I would play the part of being the abused and neglected Indian, in fun of course, but there were no Indians on parade, so what an opportunity to have some fun. Cliff played it right to the hilt, now I did not know Tommy at the time so I was guilty by association, Little did we know that this incident would come back to haunt one of us. This had taken place 10 years previously.

This incident took place in Jun/July 1968. I had recently been posted to 2 Sigs from 4 Sigs in Germany and the first people I meet are Dennis Stow, Terry Pringle, Tommy Carter, Jerry Fleming, Tom Casey, Fish Millar, Sack McLaren and a fellow Indian from western Canada Cliff Pompana. There were a lot more but their names have slipped my mind. I say this because it would give the reader an idea of some of the characters in the Sqn.

Cliff knew everyone and he had developed quite a reputation in the Sqn and had a great sense of humor. Cliff Pompana was on excused duty and I was not cleared into the Sqn, so we were excused from the parade.

I did not know Tommy other than as “Sir” and that he was the SSM at that time.

Yes I was there, at the after parade party and after a few drinks, I do remember Cliff talking to Tommie and Cliff, goading him on the fact that he did not have any aboriginal people on the parade but it was all done respectfully and with humour.

Over the years I got to know Tommie quite well and we became good friends. He appreciated the fact that I was proud of my heritage and that I could take a joke, and had a good sense of humor. He knew how I would react to the story and I was surprised and proud that he thought enough of me and Cliff to relate the story, though somewhat exaggerated. I had actually forgotten about the incident and I would be remiss to not pass it on. I hope those reading this account, will read it in the context for which it was meant (Humorous).

The last visit I had with Tommy was in Ottawa, he had retired from the Military and was working as a Commissionaire, we had a great chuckle over this incident. Tommy was a great soldier, leader, role model and friend, he was a character, I hope someone that knew him well, writes a BIO on him. I salute you my friend. VVV

Sara Berkshire

Ms. Sara Berkshire was born August 5, 1964 in Comox, British Columbia. Growing up in a military family, Sara was very interested in serving her country, wanting to make it her number one goal in life! To begin her military career, Sara briefly joined Cadets. Later on, she enlisted with the Army as a Communication Researcher (Communicator Research Operator) holding rank of Corporal. As well as serving In Canada, Sara served on missions to Kabul, Afghanistan. After being medically discharged in 2008, Sara left the Canadian Forces after 17 years service. Sara now resides in Kingston, Ontario.

Training a Bit Daunting!

Fear of the Unknown

Calling Out for my Life!

After Effects of Military Service

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Kenneth “Ken” Greenhalgh

I went in for signals because two of my mates went in as well. We did a little training in England, I think about three months with signals, picking up the Morse Code, of course, which was around then. And then we were shipped abroad and we went to South Africa, Cape Town. From South Africa, we went to North Africa. Now, we found after that they kept us down there for the three months because the push was on El Alamein, to push the Germans out and we didn’t want to get involved in that too much. So we waited until they’d started and were pushing them to Tunis [Tunisia], the Jerries [nickname for the Germans].

And so we went up there, we went to Derna [Libya], they were nearly deserted towns then, Bizerta [Tunisia], and we ended up in Tunis, just as the Germans were being pushed out. We just saw the end of it. So from there, we went across to Sicily. I was there for, how long, we were pushing the Germans out and I was there for about four months. And then they pushed them out and a bit later on, I can’t specifically say dates because everything was so rushed at that time, but from there, we went across to Italy, Anzio. So we landed in [HMS] Azalea at Anzio and we joined up.

The thing was, our unit, we were a special wireless unit. We’d had two vans with aerials and we used to follow a German division across the front and take down all what they were talking about to one another. We joined up, we were with the Americans, we were with the Canadians. We were with the Polish Division, you know, wherever this German division was, we’d move across with it. And if they moved in front of another division, like Canadian, Polish, whatever, we’d join that division. The [Fallschirm-Panzer] Göring Division, that was one of them, we were chasing them for quite a while, Hermann Göring Division.

We had the special boys in with us, the intelligence. There were three of them in the van and when we took something down, we’d just wave it to them, they’d come over and they’d look at it to see if it’s worth sending through to headquarters. Many times it was because they were on the move, this Hermann Göring, so they had to keep up with them. One minute they were there and the next minute, they weren’t. So they wanted to know where each division was, you see.

I was an operator. I sat in front of a wireless set, wireless, and you just turned the dial. You see a big dial in the front, you’d turn that until you heard German and then you, and we’re off. On duty, there were about four of us, each time, there were about three shifts, you see, about 12 operators altogether. The only scary time was when we were going down a pass or we were just about to go down the pass, around this mountain, you see. And suddenly, we saw another heavily armoured group approaching the pass from the other end. So we thought, well, that’s funny because we were usually told if there’s our troops around. So we thought, well, we’ll wait a minute and hang on there, until somebody screamed, “They’re Jerries!” It was a German division coming up the other end and we were … That was very fast. We just turned around and bolted, I don’t know where we went.

And also we were at Cassino [Italy]. We were just above Cassino, so we had a good view of the battle down below because we had to get up high for our aerials, you see. And the division, Herman Göring I think, they were in, oh no, they were paratroopers. We had the Hermann Göring Division next door to Cassino. And we were keeping our eye on them, at the same time we could see the battle going on down below, which was a nasty one.

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Sandford Tuey

I'm Sandford Tuey. I was with Communication Research 291 in the Canadian Armed Forces.

I volunteered to serve in the Canadian Armed Forces from 1976 to 1979. I was straight out of high school, age seventeen, too young to join myself so I convinced my mother to sign me up, which she did.

I flew in a jet for the first time from Vancouver, BC to Canadian Forces base Cornwallis, Nova Scotia, where I went through very rigorous basic military training, harder than what was portrayed in Stanley Kubrick's movie Full Metal Jacket. My favourite course was 'Chemical, Biological and Nuclear Warfare' – an eye-opening subject for a teenager. To this day, it was one of the most stressful and physically demanding times of my life, but well worth the experience.

After graduating from basic training, I worked at Canadian Forces base Kingston to begin my trade – communications research. I learned general communications and how to operate many kinds of transmitters/receivers, typing, cryptography, to being able to copy Morse code to how to receive signals from telex and satellite. There were also courses like 'riot squad' and 'base defence', where dealing with anti-terrorism techniques and controlling rioting crowds was mandatory education. I was proud to graduate with a top-secret clearance level.

I was then stationed at Masset, Queen Charlotte Islands, in the British Columbia wonderful and beautiful group of the Haida Gwai'i Islands. Due to the top-secret nature of the work I did there, I am not liberty to discuss this other than to say that I continued to research communications for the benefit of Canada and NATO. If you visit the area today, you will still see the tall listening poles in a circle around the main building where I worked.

I then served six months – one hundred and eighty-three days and a wakie – at Canadian Forces station Alert, Northwest Territories, now Nunavut, at the northern tip of Ellesmere Island, four hundred miles south of the North Pole. So far north of the Arctic Circle that when you looked at a compass, magnetic north read southwest. When I arrived there it was pitch black twenty-four hours a day and deadly cold. In between whiteout blizzards, we would go outside to watch the aurora borealis swirling overhead, with its greenish blue and red ion trails. It was so quiet up there sometimes; you could even hear the northern lights crackle.

Researching communications from other countries during the Cold War was a dangerous time, and the servicemen like myself paid their dues during isolation duty received Special Forces medals. This is due to the fact that if the Cold War ever went hot, we could be one of the first bases to be attacked. Back in the '50s, '60s and '70s, there was always the chance that the Americans and the Russians would start World War III. I, however, always believed that the Cold War was World War III, based on the fact that hundreds of thousands of lives were lost, if not millions, in conflicts that took place all over the world since the end of World War II until the fall of the Berlin Wall in Germany and the collapse of the Soviet Union.

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