The attached story was written by Mr. Al McCalder; telling the story of his father, Douglas, and his experiences of the Dieppe Raid in 1942

Written by Allan J. McCalder

First, I want to thank you and your foundation, No Stone Left Alone, for contributing to the remembrance of Canada’s war veterans.  Second, I greatly appreciate the opportunity to make a small contribution to the Letters to Dieppe project.  A wonderful project: writing letters that focus on the Dieppe Raid and its impact.  I would like to offer this letter to give voice to my Dad’s story, one he never told.

By way of comparison with modern day, communication during WW II between soldiers and their loved ones back home was primarily by letter writing, frequently with days and weeks to send and receive any news. Faster communications included telegrams, but these were dreaded for their inherent meaning.

In August of 1942 my Dad was a young man, married less than three years.  He left behind on the Canadian prairie a wife, his very young daughter, and his parents to join with his four brothers and mates in a greater cause.  He came of age during the Great Depression, which ended with the outbreak of World War II in Europe. Douglas J. McCalder, PFC, H-19603, of the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders out of Winnipeg, trained both in Canada and England prior to the Operation Jubilee (the Dieppe Raid).  They landed at Green Beach, near Pourville.

The horrors of Dieppe have been well documented. Many called it a disastrous suicide mission orchestrated by overly confident military leaders; however other historians discovered many years later that the Dieppe Raid had a specific military purpose whose objective was not fulfilled.  On August 19, 1942, the Raid was over by mid-day. The cost to Canada: 907 men killed – roughly one man every thirty-five seconds during a nine-hour ordeal.  A further 2,460 Canadians were either wounded, prisoners of war, or missing in the formal casualty returns. By nightfall that day, a total of 3,367 men – 68 percent of all the Canadian men, mostly in their teens and early twenties, had become official casualties.  My Dad was one of the lucky ones: he was captured.

As a Prisoner of War (POW), Dad waited out the remainder of the World War II from August 19, 1942 until he was liberated by American Forces on April 18, 1945: a total of 975 days.  His Journal contains several entries during his time as a POW, complete with sketches, poems, and treasured photos from home.  I think most important were the letters from loved ones; these helped sustain him over almost one-thousand days in captivity. His first entry is reproduced below.

Pourville, France;  August 19^th, 1942

I guess the boats won’t be coming in again, & we are waiting [sic] for Jerry to close in.  Here he comes.  The last shot has been fired; & now they are rounding us up.  After walking for about half an hour, we are put into a farm yard; & given a search, & the wounded attend too [sic], then onto Dieppe, & onto a train to Rouan [Rouen] hospital.

(Source:  Journal of Douglas J. McCalder, PFC, H-19603, Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders of Canada.  A. McCalder, private collection.)

 

As a POW my Dad was transported – sometime on foot, sometimes on train, always under guard – more than 900 kilometres from the Normandy Coast across France and deep into Germany.  His final internment was at Stalag IX C near the small town of Bad Sulza, less than 90 kilometres from Leipzig.

My Mom and Dad were prolific letter writers during that time.  My Mom’s record indicated she wrote 150 letters to Dad (about one per week), while he managed 102.  Letter writing really helped sustain the spirits of Dad and so many other POWs during those many months – in many ways they were the lifeline to his family back in Winnipeg.  One reality of life as a P.O.W. was that all letters – coming in and going out – were heavily censored by captors.  Most of Dad’s letters home to Mom were simple, sweet expressions of his love her and my oldest sister.  But perhaps like so many other P.O.W.s, the letters sent and received say something about the resilience of the soldiers during their years away from home.  And typical of so many others, Dad did not want those at home to know the horrors he experienced.

To illustrate the importance of letter writing, I have included some examples both received and sent.  The first is very special: from my Mom’s younger brother, Private Ronald W. Warner (H8090) and sent to my Dad, then a POW. [Note that some information in Ron’s letter was cut out by censors.]  (Source:  Journal of Douglas J. McCalder, PFC, H-19603, Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders of Canada.  A. McCalder, private collection.)

Ronald Warner was not yet 20 years of age when he enlisted on the 11^th of February, 1943.  He served with the Royal Canadian Regiment during the Italian Campaign, specifically the Battle of Ortona.  While I never met this Uncle, family members frequently spoke about him, always with affection and respect.  I think he was especially close to our Mom and his younger brothers.  I was fortunate to access Ron’s Military Service Record from WW II and have included one very poignant record below: the dreaded telegram sent to his mother in (St. James) Winnipeg, dated February 4, 1944.  (Source: A. McCalder, private collection)

At Ortona the Canadians faced elements of the renowned German 1st Parachute Division.  These soldiers were battle hardened after many years of war, and were ordered by Adolf Hitler to defend Ortona at any cost. On the 28th day of December, after eight days of fighting, the depleted German troops finally withdrew from the town.  The Canadians suffered 1,375 dead during the Moro River battles of which Ortona was a part.  This represented almost a quarter of all Canadians killed during the entire Italian Campaign.

Tragically, Mom’s younger brother Ronald was among the dead; perhaps by chance in the wrong place – within the sights of a German sniper – at the wrong time.  Pte. Ronald W. Warner is buried at the Moro River Canadian War Cemetery, Ortona, Italy.

In 2017 several members of the Warner extended family – all of whom were born after Ronald’s death – gathered at the Moro River Canadian War Cemetery to pay our respects.  Such is the strength of family connections over the generations.  The coins atop his headstone signify that someone has visited and remembered the sacrifice given in service for one’s country.  The glass of whisky represents a family tradition of respect.

There were periods of boredom during Dad’s captivity, with no entries for weeks and months.  However, his last entry in his P.O.W. journal – reproduced below – provides some insight into his experiences.

April 17, 1945 – Hettstedt (Germany)

“It is now twenty min. to ten, & it is getting hot around here, with bullets flying around.  I guess this is going to be the day that we are going to be freed. They are coming up from the south, you could see the bullets kicking up the dirt in the fields.  We are in a deep valley here, & we are all in the barn out of sight.

“Between 12 & 2 this morning the Yanks were shelling a village about twenty mins. walk from here.  We had three more men join us last night, & this morning another twelve came in.

“Ten to Ten.  The rifle shots and machine guns have started again, & they are only about 500 yards away.  A civie [civilian] came in about a half an hour ago & said that tanks were coming from the south west.

“Twenty past Ten.  All has gone quite (sic) again, & the boys have gone out side once again. The clirk [perhaps clerk] from the guards has taken off his gun, & gone down to the village to see if he can’t get a hold of some Yanks to come & get us.

“All during the firing there was a half dozen civies out side the barn, by a high stone wall, & one of them was washing a baby boy, about 3 or 4 months old. They are Belgumms (sic) [Belgians].

“11.30 (assumed to be 11:30 AM).  Action has been going on again for the last half hour now, but it seems to have got a little further away.  There has been an observation plain (sic), floating around for over half an hour, & shells flying over from south-east to north west. We don’t know weather (sic) they are Yanks or Jerry.  The bombers have been going over in groups of six’s (sic) for at least an hour, & they are all heading East. All has gone quite (sic) again, & there is a girl washing her legs at the creek, & is she having a time.

“There are 154 of us together now.  The Jerry in charge of us has been doing OK in the way of food for us.  While we have been here, he has got us a loaf of bread each for three days, & four sheep.  Last night two Jerrys went out with a horse & wagon for bread, & all they could get was around twenty loaves.

“Here is a Yank in a Jeep.

“2.35 (assumed to be 2:35 PM).  Here we are with the Yanks who have freed us.  I have a rifle over my arm once again.  Gee it feels good, guarding the Jerrys.  There are some shells going off on our right & going northeast.”

Author’s note:  At the bottom of this entry (p. 38 of Dad’s Log) the following appears:

• P.F.C. Robert D. Kline
• CO-D 39^th Inf. A.P.O. #9  [Author’s note: perhaps 39th Infantry Regiment (United States)]
• c/o New York, City
• N.Y. City

Perhaps Robert D. Kline was the American soldier Dad met at 2:35 PM on April 17, 1945.

“8 P.M.  Here we are a few kil. behind the lines, on the edge of Hettstedt, which was taken last Friday, & the center of the village has been bombed on Thursday night.  The village was going to hold out & fight, but after those few bombs droped (sic) [dropped] they changed their minds.

“We are in an old working camp, & we are hopeing (sic) to leave from here tomorrow morning. It sure does feel good to look outside & not see a Jerry on guard outside the fence.”

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My Dad’s internment as a POW ended that day and he resumed his role as an Infantry soldier.  Three weeks later the war in Europe ended with the surrender of Nazi Germany.  Sometime after April 18, 1945, Dad made his way to Nordhausen, Germany, and from there on to England.  He travelled back on the Queen Mary, a troop ship at that time.  This voyage departed Gourock, Scotland on July 6, travelled 3,291 miles in 4 days, 21 hours and 38 minutes.

At right is a photo from Dad’s POW Journal of my Mom (Ruby) and oldest sister (Marilyn), taken in 1944 and sent to Dad c/o Stalag IX C Prisoner of War Camp.  I have to think Mom’s letters and photos helped sustain Dad during almost 1,000 days of captivity.

Finally, I have included below one of my Dad’s letters to Mom – a letter dated November 17, 1944 that was never sent due to censorship (section ‘X-ed’ out).  The outside of the letter (below) shows Mom’s address in St. James (Winnipeg), along with Dad’s POW address for Stalag IX C.  (Source:  Journal of Douglas J. McCalder, PFC, H-19603, Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders of Canada.  A. McCalder, private collection.)

 

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For those with a connection to the Dieppe Raid, this Project is a wonderful opportunity to remember and commemorate the bravery and service of the Canadian troops.  I have witnessed the appreciation of the locals in Dieppe and Pourville who never forget the bravery of all the troops; I have walked the beach my Dad ran up some 80 years ago; and I give thanks that he was one of the lucky ones – captured, interned as a POW, yet able to return home to Mom and my oldest sister and get on with life.  I think of my Dad most days for what he sacrificed, how he and Mom raised a fine family, and for the opportunities he allowed my siblings and me to pursue.

 

Writing letters to our service men and women while they are away from home was vitally important to their wellbeing, especially during a time of war.  I have to think that knowing others cared helped sustain them through the loneliness, the boredom and fear, and the uncertainty.  During World War II letters received by active soldiers, support personnel and POWs were their lifelines to home – the place they all longed for.  This project – Letters for Dieppe – is a fitting remembrance for me about my Dad, and I thank you.

 

Most sincerely,

Allan J. McCalder

Sherwood Park, Alberta

 

Letters to Dieppe – Commemorative Campaign