My Life in the Royal Canadian Air Force (Women's Division)

Myrtle E. Fairbairn

RCAF WD

RCAF WD

W308774
Rank: Sergeant
Job: Code and Cypher
Stationed: Sea Island to Halifax

If anybody had ever asked me why I joined The Royal Canadian Air force (Women's Division) the patriotic answer would have been "For King and country." But, the real reason I responded to the call to arms was that the cow fell down the well.

I was teaching in the country when this tragedy occurred. They shot the poor beast right there, hauled it up, butchered it and had a winter supply of grade A beef. It was the coffee that done me in . . .that brown, brown coffee.

I was a Code and Cypher Sergeant. My postings took me from Western Air Command to Sea Island. We had orders to say we were in meteorology and that gave our work a lovely air of mystery. The Air force considered all messages as emergencies and we cracked codes from the most immediate right down to the ones with no priority. Sometimes we flew though our shift and sometimes we slaved trying to figure out who had goofed.

In those high stress times, we still managed a few laughs. Once we carefully set up a phoney message to Comox. Smack in the middle we informed an airman he was the proud father of an eight pound five ounce son. The grateful grandfather sent us a box of cigars.

Code and Cypher was a full time demanding job. Yet, being a shift worker meant I would be "joed" for other jobs. Once I was to help in bringing a W.D. to justice. Dusty Miller, the flight sergeant, said he would bring up the rear calling out commands and all I had to do was march ahead of the prisoner.

He said: "We march in, I call 'halt', we halt. I call 'left turn', we turn left. We face the officer in charge. He will have on his hat. We salute and w both move three steps away from the W.D. The flight lieutenant says 'yah, yah, yah'. I call out commands to leave and out we go."

It sounded simple. Well, we marched in. Dusty gave the command "Halt!" But, I didn't halt and we kept marching around the flight lieutenant's desk. The officer swivelled around in his chair and I could feel his growing fury. It got worse. Dusty, who thought the flight lieutenant was going to stay turned, didn't call halt. So the three of us marched around the desk again. We finally got out of there. As we sauntered along in the beautiful British Columbia sunshine, Dusty said to the W.D. and me quite bitterly, "The reason you got off was he was so mad at us." My ex-prisoner shot me a look of pure gratitude.

I would have liked to have told Dusty what I thought of the "double standard" but we had to fall in step to salute the Union Jack flying serenely overhead. At that moment I thought of my childhood and growing up in Red Deer. Every morning at school we said the Lord's Prayer and recited, "I salute the flag, the emblem of my country and to her I pledge my love and loyalty." In one flash of understanding I realized it wasn't the cow after all.

Dusty was wrong about me getting off, for there was a reprisal. "Old Swivel Pants" decided that I should go to Trenton's Senior N.C.O. 's course where they taught right from left. What a glorious experience that was! With prompting from a cranky old Warrant Officer we learned to bawl out commands. The men on the parade square formed flights, wheeled, stamped their feet and marched past with eyes right. Without a doubt the Feminist Movement was born in my heart right there.

Finally the day of the big test came. All the flights were marching on parade, but something went wrong. One flight was heading toward an incoming plane. Another flight was marching with equal determination into the path of moving lorries. A third was gravitating toward the canteen while my final flight was fast approaching the reviewing stand as if determined to run over poor little me.

As I watched with growing horror of the inevitable destruction of those fine young men, the words of Tennyson floated through my consciousness:

"Their 's not to reason why,"
"Their's but to do and die."

Just then my good old instructor whispered, "The word you're searching for is "HALT!"

My last posting was Gorsebrook, Halifax. How I loved the smell of the sea, the cobbled streets, the hill with its famous clock, the old graveyard and best of all I loved its people. One morning Ethel, our flight sergeant interrupted my euphoria by waking me with the unpleasant news that I was on Catholic Church parade.

"No way," I protested. "I have just come off night duty and besides. . ." I caught myself in time. You see, around my neck I wore a little silver cross that my sister Margaret had given me. Her exact words then were "You will need all the help you can get." By displaying my good luck charm whenever possible, I had managed to convey Catholicism without actually stating my faith. So, while other Protestants had specific places and times to meet for church services, I and other Catholics did not need special orders to pray. Ethel explained that someone in D.R.O's had decreed church parade and since I was the only Catholic N.C.O. available. . .

"It's too far," I whined wondering frantically where any Catholic Church was. Ethel assured me there would be a van waiting. I had a whole twenty minutes to dress, polish my buttons and get to hell out there. . . Or was that purgatory?

So, in no time I was rolling along with a handsome young L.A.C. for a chauffeur. My parade, two young L.A.W. 's, were in the back seat. I sat there wondering if Frederic March, genuflected from right to left or was that left to right. "Sergeant," said my driver, "you look beat. Why don't I take you down to the Sally Ann for a good rest? I myself am going to church and I will see the girls home safely."

"Well," I said pathetically. "I could catch the ferry to Dartmouth. My friends there always have a bed where I can sleep in peace. " I turned around and said to my parade suspiciously. "You will go straight there and right back to barracks." "Yes, Sergeant," they chorused. Their eyes, the windows of their souls, were staring down at brightly polished shoes.

So a reprieve was in the offering. Down to the dock we went. As I scrambled out of the van I heard above the warning whistle of the ferry something that went like this:

"Holy Mary. I've got this jalopy until three o'clock. Where do you want to go?"

There was no time for reprimands. As I sailed across the harbour I had to wonder, with the world in such a mess, if God had time to worry about three of his unrepentant children driving around on government gas.

Churchill's speech to the women-
"Come then, let us to the task. . .
Let us go forward together in all
parts of the Empire. . .There is
not a week, nor a day, nor an
hour to lose. . ."

…was an inspiration to all. We worked hard at Eastern Air Command, to do our bit for the war effort, always aware that "a slip of the lip could sink a ship." But, once through the grapevine we did hear about a mistake somebody made. We received a message from Australia requesting a dozen airscrews for Bolingbrokes. The message never should have come to us in the first place. So, we set it up in a different code and rerouted it to Ottawa. Ottawa sent Australia a dozen aircrews instead. The capital of Canada no doubt made three copies and filed it under 0 for "Oh, Oh."

Once I had the great honour of toasting the King at a mess dinner. It was not a duty to take lightly. Everything depended on emphasis. "AIRWOMEN, the King!", "Airwomen The KING!" I practised and practised. At last the great moment arrived. I was on my feet. I raised my glass. Suddenly, there was a terrible rumble and all the Haligonians dove under the tables, followed by us. In World War One a munitions ship blew up in the harbour and almost blew Halifax off the map. Of course, we had all read "Barometer Rising" so we knew that it could happen again. Fortunately Halifax was spared and so was I.

One morning when I came off graveyard the church bells were ringing and all the ships were tooting and whistling. So the Armed Forces decided to have a big victory parade. As befitting the senior service, the Navy lead, the Army followed and the Air force brought up the rear. Everyone was marching along in fine style when pandemonium broke out. The Navy, I guess, made a right instead of a left and marched into a brewery. They thought it was G.I. and the party began. There are always a few rotten apples in the barrel and some service personnel and civilians started looting and vandalising the shops along Barrington. Halifax had done its best for the thousands who had invaded its shores and that was a terrible way to thank them. So right now I am going to stop and say it, "thanks Halifax."

To get my discharge, I went by ferry to Darmouth. A brand new hangar had rows of desks inside and signs everywhere making sure that A to G didn't get mixed up with H to Z.

"Oh," said the officer in charge of the alphabet, "so you're one of the Code and cypher Sergeants who built this."

What happened was not hard to explain. Ottawa had decided that since the war was drawing to an end, they wouldn't need the hangar. They sent us the cancellation to forward to Dartmouth. The message came down the chute and somehow got stuck behind the desk instead of falling in the basket. With no orders to the contrary, the work proceeded. As I gazed up at the shining artefact soaring high above me I can honestly say it was my finest hour.

Finally I headed west. At Montreal where I had to change trains, somebody said left instead of right and I ended up on a troop train. The harassed conductor told me to stay put. Despite no berths or diner. . .(they forgot to hook them on) . . .it was an exciting time. At every stop there were bands and speeches, fruit, candy and other fine treats for the conquering heroes. As a lone bluebird among the hawks I received my full share of glory.

In no time at all we arrived in Red Deer. The first person to greet me was my old teacher. Suspended by a ribbon around her neck was a tray of Planter's Peanuts. "Well, Myrtle," she said. "Were you overseas?" "No" I said automatically holding out my hand. "I was in Halifax." "Ooh" said she. "That's where the riots were" and back went my peanuts into the tray. I would like to have explained that we were hustled back to barracks and missed both the riot and the party but no time. For around the corner came my mother, coat flying and arms wide open.

I was home at last.

We Will Remember

animated maple leaf

Thank you, Veterans,

With sincere gratitude from all Canadians


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