mike_cyul
SOH-CM-2025
Most of us are here in these forums because we love aviation, in one form or another. For those whose aviation thing is historical and military (and everybody else, actually), I just wanted to share a brief story, a part of a story that came to an end last Friday, December 5.
None of you here knew my mother, and obviously that's not the point of writing this, but she had her own aviation side that she was very proud of, probably the thing she was most proud of doing in her whole life. Not every aviation story is a pilot story. However, as it is definately aviation, and played an immediate role in the lives of pilots, I thought I'd share it here, not to get your sympathy, but just because I know she'd be happy to have this part of her life shared with people who can appreciate it.
In 1939, she was 21 years old, in London, England. When World War Two broke out, she, her sister and mother all joined the WAAF's (Women's Auxiliary Air Force). My mother became a Radar operator, and watched over her screen all during the Battle of Britain, and was stationed during that time at most of the radars situated on England's south east coast, opposite France. She was stationed right at those sites, and underwent bombings by the Germans several times. It never threw her off, or made her want to do anything else.
She told me that she became so good at reading those lines on the cathode ray tube, that she could see German aircraft as they rose above the tree tops on take-off at the nearest airfields in France, and she watched as the fighters and bombers gathered into formation. As they started over towards her and England, she passed on the information to those in command and on to the fighter squadrons.
She did this for the whole Battle and for a good period afterwards, visiting her mother in London during the Blitz on her days off, never deterred in those visits as London burned and their house was damaged by bombs.
Her other role at the radar screen was to watch for returning Allied aircraft who were in trouble. Many times she would watch a struggling aircraft trying to reach home, drop lower and lower, and finally ditch in the Channel. She would pinpoint the spot, and pass the information along. She had headphones, and would listen to the aircraft frequencies, often hearing the crews calling for assistance, giving their positions, etc..
Her favourite story was of listening to the transmitions of, and following in, a damaged British bomber, which eventually ditched near her position on the English coast. She gave the coordinates to the rescue launches, and finished her shift. As she left for the day, and headed to a pub with some colleagues for a birthday celebration, up came a truck with the crew of the very aircraft she had just helped rescue. They were taken inside for a drink, and my mother remembers the dazed crew thinking the celebrations were for them. No one had the heart to tell them!
Following that period, my mother was transferred to Northern Ireland, to operate the radars that oversaw the Irish Sea and nearby Atlantic. She spent the last three years of the War there, watching for German aircraft and tracking the Allied patrols. She was still required to listen to the aircraft frequencies, and remembered one pilot, patrolling at night, who was making up poetry out loud, perhaps without realizing he was transmitting the whole time.
Following the War, she left the WAAF's, and in 1948 left England, following her best friend, who had married a Canadian soldier, to Montreal. She took the opportunity once here, to travel all over the USA, by herself, something not every woman would undertake even today. She returned to Montreal, bought a house, and spent the next 60 years here. She met my father in 1955.
She refused all benefits and medals to which she was entitled for her wartime service. She saw herself as just one small part of a much bigger picture, and just doing her duty. Her view was, "It wasn't as if we had any choice - we had to win." However, any account she ever heard of the Battle of Britain that didn't pay full respect to the radar operators and their skills would earn some very strong remarks.
There's much more to this story, obviously, but this is what I think is appropriate at this point.
Anyway, her story ended last Friday. Hope you don't mind my sharing this, but as she didn't know anyone but me who appreciated the above, I just thought it might be a nice thing to pass on this side of her story to the people here who could also appreciate it, as a small tribute.
Thanks,
Mike
None of you here knew my mother, and obviously that's not the point of writing this, but she had her own aviation side that she was very proud of, probably the thing she was most proud of doing in her whole life. Not every aviation story is a pilot story. However, as it is definately aviation, and played an immediate role in the lives of pilots, I thought I'd share it here, not to get your sympathy, but just because I know she'd be happy to have this part of her life shared with people who can appreciate it.
In 1939, she was 21 years old, in London, England. When World War Two broke out, she, her sister and mother all joined the WAAF's (Women's Auxiliary Air Force). My mother became a Radar operator, and watched over her screen all during the Battle of Britain, and was stationed during that time at most of the radars situated on England's south east coast, opposite France. She was stationed right at those sites, and underwent bombings by the Germans several times. It never threw her off, or made her want to do anything else.
She told me that she became so good at reading those lines on the cathode ray tube, that she could see German aircraft as they rose above the tree tops on take-off at the nearest airfields in France, and she watched as the fighters and bombers gathered into formation. As they started over towards her and England, she passed on the information to those in command and on to the fighter squadrons.
She did this for the whole Battle and for a good period afterwards, visiting her mother in London during the Blitz on her days off, never deterred in those visits as London burned and their house was damaged by bombs.
Her other role at the radar screen was to watch for returning Allied aircraft who were in trouble. Many times she would watch a struggling aircraft trying to reach home, drop lower and lower, and finally ditch in the Channel. She would pinpoint the spot, and pass the information along. She had headphones, and would listen to the aircraft frequencies, often hearing the crews calling for assistance, giving their positions, etc..
Her favourite story was of listening to the transmitions of, and following in, a damaged British bomber, which eventually ditched near her position on the English coast. She gave the coordinates to the rescue launches, and finished her shift. As she left for the day, and headed to a pub with some colleagues for a birthday celebration, up came a truck with the crew of the very aircraft she had just helped rescue. They were taken inside for a drink, and my mother remembers the dazed crew thinking the celebrations were for them. No one had the heart to tell them!
Following that period, my mother was transferred to Northern Ireland, to operate the radars that oversaw the Irish Sea and nearby Atlantic. She spent the last three years of the War there, watching for German aircraft and tracking the Allied patrols. She was still required to listen to the aircraft frequencies, and remembered one pilot, patrolling at night, who was making up poetry out loud, perhaps without realizing he was transmitting the whole time.
Following the War, she left the WAAF's, and in 1948 left England, following her best friend, who had married a Canadian soldier, to Montreal. She took the opportunity once here, to travel all over the USA, by herself, something not every woman would undertake even today. She returned to Montreal, bought a house, and spent the next 60 years here. She met my father in 1955.
She refused all benefits and medals to which she was entitled for her wartime service. She saw herself as just one small part of a much bigger picture, and just doing her duty. Her view was, "It wasn't as if we had any choice - we had to win." However, any account she ever heard of the Battle of Britain that didn't pay full respect to the radar operators and their skills would earn some very strong remarks.
There's much more to this story, obviously, but this is what I think is appropriate at this point.
Anyway, her story ended last Friday. Hope you don't mind my sharing this, but as she didn't know anyone but me who appreciated the above, I just thought it might be a nice thing to pass on this side of her story to the people here who could also appreciate it, as a small tribute.
Thanks,
Mike
