William Wiegand signed his name on the back of the photo taken in August 1941 at No 2 EFTS Fort William…
William Wiegand would have turned 100 today.
He never came back…
31 December 1919 – 25 April 1944
Month: December 2019
Chapter Twelve – March and April 1942 – Advanced Flying Unit, RAF Watton, Norfolk, England
Foreword written by Vicki Sorensen
My father, Frank Sorensen, immigrated to Canada from Roskilde, Denmark with his family in August 1939. He volunteered in the Royal Canadian Air Force in March 1941 and trained to become a Spitfire fighter pilot. He was shot down while serving with RAF 232 Squadron, over Tunisia, in North Africa on April 11, 1943 and became a prisoner of war at Stalag Luft III. He was an active participant in the tunnel digging operations that was later known as The Great Escape.
After my father’s death February 5th, 2010, when he was 87, I came into possession of letters written by him to his parents during the war that they had saved and given back to him. Along with the letters were numerous photos and service record documents. There were 174 letters in total which start from C.O.T.C., 1940, #1 Manning Depot, #3 Initial Flying Training School, #2 Elementary Flying Training School, #11 Service Flying Training School; all in Canada in 1941 to #17 A.F.U. (Advanced Flying Unit) and #53 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit) in England in 1942. Then, his service from 1942 in RCAF 403 Squadron, in England, transferring to RAF 232 Squadron in Scotland, then to North Africa. Numerous letters are from 1943 and 1944 from Stalag Luft III, and then a handful from 1945. There were only two short letters from the long march from Sagan to Lubeck – one in March letting his parents know he was still all right, and one in May when they had just been liberated.
Log book pages associated with the letters
Miles Master Mk. II
March 22, 1942
Advanced Flying Unit, RAF Watton
Norfolk, England
Dead Dad;
Received three “brown” letters yesterday. Thanks for the mirror; would you mind sending the case as well as the mirror is ruined very easily without it.
I enjoyed Dennis’ much improved letter writing; and was surprised to learn about his relative successes at school especially on the mathematical side. I have just written two pages to him the beginning of a long letter in which I’ll tell him of my few successes and many failures, in general, giving him a few tips. I’m just beginning to realize what a fine chap Dennis is. He’s so tolerant, quiet, very sensitive. His tolerance is limited though, and when he gets mad he has a reason to be, and then he really is mad. It very seldom happened that Dennis and I couldn’t agree. We always had been able to get along together. And if we ever did get in the way of each other I always thought afterwards that it never should have happened, that with a little “giving in” on my part would have prevented any bad feeling. Though we must have had quite a few fights Dennis and I, I really don’t remember one single one of them, unlike those I’ve had with Eric. Dennis and I have many things in common maybe that’s why we got along so well. Eric has a different character all together, he’s the boasting type, always exaggerating; Dennis on the other hand would rather minimize any praising words said about him than Eric’s sort of “Yes, Sir, that’s me.” I wouldn’t say Eric is “tilbageholden” (modest) (I haven’t got my books). But I think I am and Dennis is even more than I am.
Lately Dennis has shown quite an ambition at school. He seems to take his work seriously, to realize the importance of a university education. He is now building the foundation for his university career, his proposed university career. Is he building the right foundation, is he being led onto the right track, is he being taught how to study? I wish I was there to guide him because I think I could give him better advice than anybody else, having experienced so many failures in that branch of life; and I know he would listen to me and take a note of my tips.
I’m convinced that Dennis is going to do not only better but far better than I did in Kingston, because he seems to able to study hard. That is one thing I never learnt how to. In the Mellemskole (middle school) in Roskilde everything seemed so easy to me so I never got on with the studying at home.
March 27, 1942
I’ll finish this letter and send it on with the tobacco. Thanks for the book on Norfolk, I’m sure it will help me in finding landmarks when I begin to fly my “cross countries.”
After 2 hours dual instruction on the Miles Master I soloed this morning and so far I have only had happy landings. The Master is quite a bit faster than the Harvard with the same cockpit layout as a Hurricane or Spit.
Our ground school does not seem quite as important here as it did in Canada. A fighter pilot in general uses very little, if any, navigation. He depends on his radio to get him home if he gets lost, so it’s only when his radio fails that his knowledge of navigation comes in handy. I have a lot to learn in navigation, signals procedure and armament; I mean the practical side in each case and now is the time to absorb it.
I see all kinds of aircraft at this station. Spitfires, Whirlwinds, Hurricanes, Lysanders, Stirlings and Bostons. Yesterday we saw a formation of Bostons heading southeast. Germany or Holland I guess.
We saw a film a captured German propaganda film showing the invasion of Crete by parachutes. Also one on unarmed combat.
I enjoyed Mother’s letters very much. A drop of salt water running down my cheeks when I finished reading them rather surprised me.
We had a gas attack the other day. We were all warned about it and were to wear all our anti gas equipment all day long. I was across the fields in the dispersal huts when the teargas was let out so I didn’t get it then. But somebody had contaminated our sleeping quarters forcing us to take the bulbs out of the sockets and open all the windows and yet two-three days later everybody was crying their pillows soaking wet.
I’ll send all Mother’s letters back when I have read them a few more times ‘cause after all, she’s your sweetheart. Thanks for the German, French papers.
Love to both of you, Frank
March 22, 1942
Advanced Flying Unit, RAF Watton
Norfolk, England
Dear Dennis;
I received your very interesting and well written letter in which you mention your exam results.
I was surprised to learn that you are doing so well in school as you never were very bright in the Danish schools, though long before your class ever took anything about geometry, for example, I remember showing you a little of the elementary geometry and you seemed quite interested. Do you remember? Maybe that’s why you made such good marks as you did. And yet you cannot work too hard with your mathematics. You’ll discover as you go along that practical experience is of greatest importance. What I mean is that you should not be content merely knowing the theory of the matter but should be able to apply the theory in practice. That’s where I made one great mistake, I only knew the theory and worked out few, if any, practical examples. If you cannot do an example, take a note of it and make sure that you get it straightened out the quicker the better. You’ll be taking chemistry very soon if you have not already begun, and as you get into the higher chemistry you’ll find that chemistry and mathematics are so closely connected that if you don’t overcome the practical side of mathematics while you are still in high school you’ll have a difficult time later on when your time at university will be “rationed.”
So let me hear about your studies, take it easy, but at the same time stick to your work. Do a little every day, as I always say to myself when I get impatient with my work. Byg Borg af Hverdags Stene (Barley Castle of Everyday Stones). It’s from a song in “Den Lille Rode” Spejder sang bog (“The Little Red” Scout song book).
April 1, 1942
A little more than a week has gone by since I last wrote a little of this letter; but nothing much has occurred really except that I have only about (censored) hours in the Miles Master, a radial engine training ship, with the same cockpit layout as the Spits, but has of course two cockpits and is not quite as fast as the Spit.
We have a little ground school here but we don’t learn much; a little signals and armament and sufficient navigation. A fighter pilot does not have to know as much about navigation as a bomber pilot, as a matter of fact he can get along without any at all. You see, his course through the air is controlled by radio from the ground stations and if he gets lost, which he often does, he just has to ask for his position, over his radio. It’s when his radio is shot to bits, that his knowledge of navigation comes in handy.
Tomorrow night we’ll be on night flying just for a couple of nights though. I’ll tell you all about it later. It won’t be as easy as the night flying we did in Canada. Then next week we are posted to an operational training unit “somewhere in England,” where we’ll be flying Spits I have been told. But as you see, still training; although we will always be flying with loaded guns, just in case!
Yesterday I borrowed a cycle and went down to (censored) to see Heinz. He is still working in his field of chemistry. He seemed pleased to see me. He was in Farnham around Christmas 1940-1941.
I’ll let you have this tonight. I haven’t got all Mother’s letters here in the Sergeants’ mess as Dad wants them all returned. I loved and enjoyed the reading or rather the readings of them.
I’m glad to know that the T4 is flowing freely. I have only received £4 10 sh from Dad so far. The watch took £8 of my own pocket. I’m saving up for a cycle which I intend to get in the near future. My flying gloves are too small for the angora ones but I’ll get a larger size.
I guess Eric will be through by now; I hope he doesn’t join up; he’ll serve his country better by staying in the laboratories and besides I believe that we are going to see a little action over here both soldiers as civilians and we have quite a family to put through school and university.
Cheerio Dennis, and don’t forget “Byg Borg af Hverdags Stene.”
Love to you all and especially to my best girlfriend, Mammy, Frank
April 1, 1942
Advanced Flying Unit, RAF Watton
Norfolk, England
Dear Dad;
Today we had quite a storm pass over this station making flying a little tricky. My instructor is on leave at present so I’m not getting much flying time in.
We are night flying from tomorrow night for 2-3 days which is going to be very exciting. Next week we are posted to an O.T.U. somewhere in Wales. Spits I think.
I’ll ask our W.O. if this is an f defended area etc. Somebody was saying that I might be able to take you into our mess but I doubt it. I’ll be off from Saturday to Sunday 12:00 hours to 12:00 hours this coming weekend if I’m finished night flying so if you think it worth while, coming way up here. I really don’t think it is.
I borrowed a cycle and went to Thetford and saw Heinz. He’ll be in London over the weekend so if you don’t come up here you could see him.
Second thought: I don’t think I would bother coming up here at all if I were you. There is nothing we could do here except going for walks.
Love Frank
Third thought: I asked the W.O. and he said that I can get a pass for your entering the airdrome and that I could take you into the mess, where we could have a couple of games chess or listen to the radio or just sit and talk. It’s unfortunate with my night flying but you could take a chance. I might not be flying Saturday and Sunday!
April 4, 1942
Advanced Flying Unit, RAF Watton
Norfolk, England
Dear Mother;
I was more or less expecting a visit by Dad this weekend as it is the last one I have here at Watton. Next Tuesday we are posted to an O.T.U. somewhere in Wales, quite a distance from London but not far from S. on the W. I guess, I’ll be flying over that area in my cross country flights.
But Dad has not turned up, which in one way is a good thing as we are scheduled for night flying tonight. I have 11 hours now just getting used to the Master; although one of our chaps crashed on night flying, without hurting himself, I don’t think it will be very difficult.
It’s 7:00 p.m. now. At 11:00 till 1:30 a.m. I am on, then from 1:30 till 3:30 a.m. I am duty pilot in the watchtower, signalling permission to land. We live in a barrack with about a dozen other chaps and they have been keeping late hours lately so right now I feel a little sleepy. The fellow who crashed while night flying came home last night stinking drunk raising hell all over the place. Finally he decided to get into bed with me with all his clothes on, which I of course did not approve of so gradually a little shoving and pushing worked up to a regular fight in which I got my pyjamas torn. After getting into bed again he tipped me out so I had to make my bed all over again. I don’t know what I would have done to him if I hadn’t felt so tired. He also put “something” filled with water in another chaps bed so that when he got into bed it burst filling his bed with water. I cannot understand how they can enjoy themselves “på andres bekostning” (at the expense of others).
I’ll try and get some sleep before going up. I must send Dad his tobacco I bought a tin in Hastings and he has been asking for it. You ought to send Dad some pipe tobacco; it costs more than twice as much here in England as it does in Canada. I’ll finish this tomorrow Sunday. Thanks for the underwear I thought I had 4.
I long for the sound of skis mushing through the frosty snow of Quebec’s hills and the beautiful scenery we all have seen so often when we looked over our moonlit, snow clad slopes around our farm. I can see Wilfred shooting down the hills with enough speed for take offs if he had had wings.
Love to you all, Frank
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Chapter Eleven – 21 January to 9 March 1942 – Victoria Nursing Home Bournemouth, England
Foreword written by Vicki Sorensen
My father, Frank Sorensen, immigrated to Canada from Roskilde, Denmark with his family in August 1939. He volunteered in the Royal Canadian Air Force in March 1941 and trained to become a Spitfire fighter pilot. He was shot down while serving with RAF 232 Squadron, over Tunisia, in North Africa on April 11, 1943 and became a prisoner of war at Stalag Luft III. He was an active participant in the tunnel digging operations that was later known as The Great Escape.
After my father’s death February 5th, 2010, when he was 87, I came into possession of letters written by him to his parents during the war that they had saved and given back to him. Along with the letters were numerous photos and service record documents. There were 174 letters in total which start from C.O.T.C., 1940, #1 Manning Depot, #3 Initial Flying Training School, #2 Elementary Flying Training School, #11 Service Flying Training School; all in Canada in 1941 to #17 A.F.U. (Advanced Flying Unit) and #53 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit) in England in 1942. Then, his service from 1942 in RCAF 403 Squadron, in England, transferring to RAF 232 Squadron in Scotland, then to North Africa. Numerous letters are from 1943 and 1944 from Stalag Luft III, and then a handful from 1945. There were only two short letters from the long march from Sagan to Lubeck – one in March letting his parents know he was still all right, and one in May when they had just been liberated.
January 21, 1942
(Somewhere in England)
Victoria Nursing Home
Bournemouth England
Dear Dad;
Jeg tror jeg will prove lidt Danks igen, ikke saa meget for Ovelsens Skyld, men fordi jeg sidder i Toget fra Glasgow til Bournemouth hvor vi skal vaere for nogle Dage, og skriver og ikke holder af at andre Folk laeser med mens jeg skriver. Bournemouth ligger paa Sydkysten af England ikker langt fra Southampton. (I think I will try some Danish again [to speak the language], not so much for the practice of it, but because I am in the train from Glasgow to Bournemouth, where we have to stay for a few days; I am writing and I do not like other people to read [what I am writing] while I write. Bournemouth is on the south coast of England, not far from Southampton.)
We got off the boat yesterday after a very dull and uninteresting crossing. According to the German radio we are now on the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, the Stratheden being sunk by the German propaganda ministry which of course there isn’t much truth in, as I came over on that ship.
I couldn’t be bothered writing in Danish, it goes too slow. This is just a note letting you know that I am over here. Have only half an hour more on the train, hoping the address is correct.
Well I didn’t get this letter off at the station so will add a little to it. As I said I hope the address is correct, I wrote it down but have it in one of my kitbags.
If you addressed your letters c/o Y.M.C.A. Walmer Hotel, Bournemouth, it would reach me quicker. About 1500 airmen came in today from the last troop transport and are all living in hotels, nursing homes, etc. I am sitting in a fairly large room with beds for 3 airmen, on my bed, we have no chairs or any other furniture, trying to keep warm. I have a good fire in the open fireplace and though I have my greatcoat on my nose is still cold. All the other chaps have gone downtown, it is very quiet in the nursing home. I live in room 12, Victoria Nursing Home, Cambridge Road, just in case you come by this way. Let me know where I can find you in case I get to London.
Fondest love, Frank
January 25, 1942
Victoria Nursing Home
Bournemouth, England
Dear Mother;
Dad is finishing a letter for you and Wilfred and thought that I ought to send you a few lines. I sent a cable the day I arrived here; hope you got it as well as my letters from Halifax.
When I got to where I am now I wrote to Dad and the following day I got a telegram saying that Dad would be here for the weekend. We have spent a nice, quiet weekend at Dad’s hotel doing nothing but talking and recalling old memories from Canada and pre-war days.
I don’t think you will get the $74 for January, but I’ll try and send it over. From February and on you will get it for sure.
It certainly is a different England I saw 2 years ago than the England of today, and yet I haven’t seen very much of it yet. The black-outs don’t bother me very much, perhaps I haven’t been out on a real dark night.
When we get straightened out here I hope to get a leave to go to London, and spend a week or so with Dad.
I should have got a wrist watch while I was in Canada. I got all my baggage, typewriter etc. Dad had a look at my grocery store when he was at my place. Will write later.
Love Frank
January 30, 1942
Victoria Nursing Home
Bournemouth England
I wrote a sheet on the train from Glasgow but I must have lost it. Thanks for the writing pad.
This afternoon we all go through stores, I wonder what our new flying clothes will be like. Tomorrow is pay parade and then there is nothing else to be done that might act as an exercise to keep us here longer.
Anything I write to you, you must not send to Mother. It just wouldn’t pass the censor. Yesterday I went to the swimming pool and had a lovely swim; should like to go there every day but its 1’6 every time.
I’ll let you know as soon as I can when I get leave. Next week some time I think.
Fondest thoughts, Frank
February 2, 1942
(Somewhere in England)
Victoria Nursing Home
Bournemouth, England
Dear Mother;
I have about an hour before going on parade, this parade being a pay parade. Last night I met some nice people in church; they invited me for tea for the afternoon and I also stayed for supper. Mr. Fowler went to church in the evening and the Mrs. Sat by the cosy fireplace reading while I listened to Denmark heard “Familien Hansen;” which was just as poor as always. Aage has “Surrogatsyge” (sick of substitute products) from all the substitutes he gets one being coffee made of pure “Kaffetilsætning” (coffee substitute). Gerda doesn’t believe in his illness so she makes him another cup of coffee and tells him it is made from a little bit of coffee which she had kept. He liked the “coffee” which of course is “Tilsætning,” (addition) which she also tells him. I’ll have to go to church a little oftener!
As it doesn’t cost me a cent to write to Canada I’ll write you a number of small letters instead of writing one long letter which might never get to Canada.
Dad took the typewriter, is going to sell the noiseless. At present I’m doing nothing but waiting. I have done more waiting than anything else here in the air force. The $3.70 are easily earned. Some day we’ll be making up for these lazy days though. Send all mail to Dad.
Love Frank
February 6, 1942
Victoria Nursing Home
Bournemouth, England
Dear Dad;
I was surprised yesterday and this morning not getting any mail from you so this afternoon I went to the service post office where I got 3 letters from you, all of which were addressed to the Walmer hotel. I asked them why the letters were not sent to the hotel and was told that we were not to have private addresses and that all mail would have to go through the base post office. Therefore this delayed letter.
My address is simply my rank, name, initials and number and finally R.C.A.F. Overseas. If you put Bournemouth on it, it would not go to the base post office but directly to the service post office here I think.
I was going to the C.O. to ask for a leave when we started to go to lectures again and as I didn’t want to miss anything of importance I put the leave aside. But if they are going to keep on as they are doing now as regards to lecturing and wasting, I can’t say time because that is all we are doing anyway, but money, the school, an old hotel, with equipment must have cost quite a bit; as well as energy. I’ll try for a leave tomorrow or next week.
Yes, I have marked all my belongings. Even my money! I opened a post office saving account the day we got paid, but I have already taken all of it out again less £1 the deposit and withdrawal not amounting to very much. But at least I got it started. I was only paid £4, not that I had expected more but I just never realized how little pay I would actually be getting. I have sufficient though with the £7 a month. You see, I am different from every one of my friends as regards money. When he will say: “You might as well spend all your money while you are still alive, what is the use of saving it?” then I’ll get as much out of life, maybe even more, as he will without spending the same amount of my money. It isn’t that I don’t know how to spend it, far from it. There is beer, expensive liquor, cigarettes and the most expensive item; women.
Beer: As you might know, I’m not very fond of beer thanks to you and your castor oil but when I am very thirsty and its very warm, an ice cold beer is just the thing; but to sit and fill one’s guts with beers by the dozen’s, does not appeal to me.
Expensive liquor: For celebrating purposes only; and believe me I don’t mind celebrating when the day is worth a celebration.
Cigarettes: A filthy habit. Once in a while I’ll think I need a smoke but I get so mad with the smell of it that I throw the half of the cigarette away. I have never smoked a whole cigarette yet. 3 or 4 weeks later I’ll have forgotten my contempt and disdain for smoking, will try another cigarette only to be reassured of my first and, I hope lasting attitude towards the filthy habit. “I would gladly start a ‘war’ against all smokers.”
Women: I like the woman’s company, her attractive mind and body. I like to spend my time with them but when doing so one has to be able to keep a conversation going at all times and when one has nothing else to suggest its either a dance or a picture show and why the hell should I supply another man’s daughter with theatre tickets, get posted to another station and never see the “gal” again. You see, when I spend my money I expect something in return, something lasting, something worth while. I fully understand of course that it cannot always be so.
A second reason why I don’t throw my money away right and left: It’s doing a good job where it is being sent; and a third reason: I hope, like almost everyone else to be able to see and enjoy the fruit of our “sweat, blood and tears;” to be able to start all over again in a free, democratic country where every penny will be very useful, indeed.
One thing though; it’s good we all are not like me. Who should feed the inn-keepers, who should support the cigarette kings and worst of all, who should pay for the women’s pleasures; if we were all of the same opinion.
A “Blenheim” was entertaining us today by flying along side the cliffs a few feet above the water. Will let you know as soon as I get my leave.
Love Frank
February 16, 1942
Hastings, England
Dear Dad;
I have just finished packing, it’s time to go to bed.
Tomorrow I’m off for someplace in Norfolk. At last! Thought I’d just let you know before I leave. The tobacco is from Mrs. Dawson’s married daughter, and if you are a good boy I might send you some more. Yours and Mother’s received this morning. Have bought a watch. Will write as soon as I get settled.
Love to you both, Frank
P.S. The coast of France was lit tonight and windows rattling.
February 21, 1942
Hastings, England
Dear Dad;
Hastings, what a ghost town. We moved down here the day before yesterday to find a worse place as regards recreation. We have 2 parades a day with inspections and the rest of the day off.
I handed in an application for a leave yesterday and as I was filling it out, the C.O. came by and had a look at it. He said he certainly couldn’t grant me that, but I handed it in anyhow. He might change his mind.
I could have run into town this weekend, but I didn’t think it worth while just for 2 days.
We are living right by the water in the best hotel in town, food is good, plenty of hot water but nothing to do. I’m getting tired of walking I think I’ll get a bike, I can always take it with me wherever I go.
I’d have run to town, London, for this weekend if I had had a bicycle.
Thanks for the dictionary, it is just what I wanted.
Have you got any German or French newspapers? Remember me to your “G.C.”
Love Frank
February 26, 1942
Hastings, England
Dear Dad & G.C.;
So far no leave, but I’m still trying next week. I have a dental and clothing parade on Saturday so I cannot come even for the weekend.
It’s very cold here today both outdoors and indoors. I saw a nice watch downtown, £7, £5 pre war price and I don’t think we will find anything better in London.
Thanks for the papers! Just what I wanted.
I am getting so tired of hanging around, that I really don’t think I’ll enjoy any leave now. However I’ll write out another application. I might as well spend my time in London as down here. I’d hate to miss a draft though.
I found my way to the swimming pool the other day, but nobody ever swims there, they say it is too cold, so an old lady keeps an eye on me while I am in swimming.
I bought some Kellogs All Bran for my breakfasts and I am right “on top of the world” now. Hurrah for Kellogg!
Love Frank
March 3, 1942
London, England
Dear Mother;
After having applied for a leave ever since I came to England and going through a lot of trouble I finally got 7 days yesterday.
Having quite a time going through London. I surprised Dad about 8:00 p.m. yesterday. They had just finished supper when I came.
I just came back from a walk across Hampstead Heaths and came back almost the same way I went out. It’s a real early spring day today, a day the children of London really enjoyed on the play grounds. I also saw a number of people digging in their gardens; getting ready for spring. Coming back I passed a balloon post manned by R.A.F. lads. Had a talk about balloon barrages in general with a corporal there.
I’m sitting in Dad’s room writing on the dinner table, the gas stove on half and the radio tuned in on Denmark so I am quite comfortable and happy. From the mantle piece Dennis is looking at me as if he would say: “Nu er det din tur til at malk Morke ko” (now it’s your turn to milk Dark cow). I also see the group of Fort William with me on the right, which shows that not all our mail gets lost.
March 5, 1942
Yesterday I went with Dad to the office to see if there was more mail from you. After that I went over to the Beaver Club a very large building used as a “home” or a club for Canadian service men in England. It’s right next to Dad’s office. They have writing rooms, vest rooms, reading rooms, wash rooms, a canteen upstairs and a café downstairs. I was sitting in the canteen eating ice cream and having a look around I found Leaf sitting right opposite me. Leaf whom I had not seen since Halifax as the fellow on the top left corner on the Fort William group. After a talk and another ice cream we went downstairs and as we were going out we met Turgeon (No. 6 from bottom left) whom I also saw in Halifax last. They were going out dancing and drinking so I left them in an underground station. That was in the afternoon in the morning I followed a crowd lead by a civilian, to Tower of London and spent some interesting hours there or rather hour as it was a hurried excursion perhaps because it was raining. Yes I even walked the Bloody Tower but at the mid-day hour. All round the Tower I saw wrecked buildings and a bomb, evidently not a high explosive had fallen as close to the Tower as a bomb could fall without damaging it. The crater wasn’t very large but only about 6-7 yards from Tower. One large room in the Tower was a recreation room for the guards and the few soldiers there. When I stepped into the Tower the first thing I heard was a ping pong ball’s tapping on a table, that brought my thoughts back 1000 years, back to 1942. It’s marvellous really how these buildings could have kept so well. The chapel in the Tower was very small and although it is still in use there are no decorations of any kind. The Crown jewels are no longer kept in the Tower. After Dad and I went to a concert which I, to my surprise enjoyed.
March 8, 1942
Hastings, England
After some lovely and enjoyable days in London in Dad’s and his G.C.’s company I was called back to this unit as I had been posted. The telegram was phoned from the office Saturday morning while Dad and I were about to wash a few things. We finished the washing and I had a little practice in ironing on my pyjamas. I packed all my clean washing and after a light lunch we left for Charing Station. Dad had phoned G.C. and told her of my cancelled leave and she was at the station to see me off. When I got back to my unit I learned that my draft was cancelled 2 hours ago. This is a wonderful life we live! Well, I went up to Dawson’s a nice family here in town and spent the evening there. They invited me for dinner today Sunday. In the afternoon we had a short walk. I had tea and supper there too. Supper 2 eggs!
I have just come back to my room it is a lovely but dark night after the loveliest sunny day we have had yet. It’s getting on for spring.
Dad, you can send this on to your, I mean my Mother.
I have heard about wrist watches being sent over here air mail so Mother if you think you can afford it would you send me a watch for about the same price as the ones we looked at.
March 9, 1942
I have changed my mind about that watch, I am going to buy one myself. So just forget about it.
Got up this morning at 11:00 a.m. did a little “Morgengymnastik” (morning gymnastics) after which I jumped into a lovely warm bath. Just in time for dinner. No news about any further postings. I have tried angora gloves inside my leather flying gloves and I think they’ll be just ok if they aren’t too tight, they’ll be warmer than my silk ones.
While I was in London I heard over the radio of Dads on 32m band a German fri-radio (free-radio) broadcast. Very interesting.
I had the pleasure of reading some of your mail which had just arrived while I was in London.
Best regards to our G.C. and all my love to everyone of you, Frank
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Intermission – Remembering +(J/9175) Lionel Edward Swatridge
Frank Sorensen was in Course 38 with Lionel Edward Swatridge who has his memorial on the Canadian Virtual War Memorial Website.
https://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/remembrance/memorials/canadian-virtual-war-memorial/detail/1808295
I found that he was one of the ten airmen who died in World War II. The information is from this source: http://rcafyorkton.blogspot.com/
Course 38: September 12 – December 4, 1941 E Flight
Group Captain George R. Howsam, M.C., presented wings to the 7th course to graduate from No. 11 SFTS.
He said the course had trained under hardships of ice and snow and rough winter weather but those hardships would only serve to better prepare them for the task ahead.
“Until Hitlerism and all it stands for is forever destroyed.”
(J/9164 – R/93114) Russell Arden Warren, Brockville, Ont. won the Wings of Merit trophy
(J/9165) Marquis Valentine Fisher;
(J/9166) Paul George Vaughan – FI 2 SF;
(J/9167) Terence Bawlf Winslow – DFC 268 Sqn., Ste. Agathe, Quebec;
(J/9168) William John Irwin Montgomery;
(J/9169) John Douglas Rice – 267 Sqn., Springford, Ontario;
(J/9170) Roy Don Allen;
(J/9171) Stuart Charles Chapman – 414 Sqn. Dieppe;
(J/9172) David Gordon McKay;
(J/9173) Harry H.M. Cave – 419 Sqn.;
+(J/9174) Norman Alexander Watt – 416 Sqn., Merrickville, Ont.;
+(J/9175) Lionel Edward Swatridge – 111 Sqn., Stratford;
+(J/9176) Gavin Robert Adams – 87 Sqn., Newdale, Manitoba;
(J/9177) W.R. Bullard (FI 12 SF);
(J/9178) Thomas William Buttle – DFC 434 Sqn., Winnipeg;
(J/9180) Gordon W. Bennett, Algonquin;
(J/9181) Lloyd A. Dove, Toronto
Roy Allen, Sarnia;
(J/46932) Louis Blatt, Kenora;
+(R/90538) Cornelius Cameron McDougall – 250 Sqn., Kirkland Lake;
+(R/79162) Joseph Emmett Milner – 15 Sqn., Vankleek Hill;
Thomas Sanderson, Sault Ste. Marie;
+(J/16243) Lloyd George Wallace – 152 Sqn., Agincourt;
(R/87495) Harold John Mason Tatler – FI 17 EF, Saskatoon;
Ernest Lewis Kraushaar, Grenfell, Sask.;
+(R/94738) Arthur Lawrence Cross – 118 Sqn., Melville, Sask.;
+(R/100418) Donald Perry Carruthers – 53 OTU, Winnipeg;
George J. Graham, Calgary;
+(R93069 – J/18006) William Norman Wiegand – 20 (P) OTU, Toronto;
(J/15811) Colin (Frank) Sorensen – 403/232 Sqns. POW, Kingston, Ont.;
Potter
Four American graduates:
(R/95495) Dale Bigelow Leaf, Marshalltown. Iowa;
+(R/82945) Seth Shiloh Glasscock – 416 Sqn., Austin, Texas;
Billy Morris Mitchell, Sweetwater, TX and OH and MI
RAF:
Sayers and Riches
Posted in from
No. 2 EFTS Ft. William (Co. 33): Rice, Sorensen, Winslow, Vaughan, Milner, Leaf, Wiegand
No. 14 EFTS Portage la Prairie: Tatler, Buttle
(R/97124) Lyle Emerson Armstrong, of Corbyville, Ontario, was killed in a flying accident October 31, 1941
Some of the names appear on the back of this photo taken at No. 2 EFTS Fort William.
Some names are hard to make out, but not Lionel Swatridge whose name appears twice in Frank Sorensen’s letters.
July 23, 1941
Elementary Flying Training School
Fort William, Ontario
Learned a lot today both in ground work and flying. I had takeoffs and landings again today but it was very rough weather which made it rather difficult. I should like to describe a takeoff and landing what it feels like for me as a beginner. We are taxiing out to the spot from which we take off. We have to zigzag and as we cannot see straight in front of us. We reach the spot and turn across the wind to watch for other aircraft landing or taking off. I check the cockpit again before taking off, the instructor asks me if I need anymore explanation. “No, Sir.” “Take off then.” I turn the aircraft into the wind, look around, wipe the sweat off my face and swallow. I push the throttle forward (the gas). “More throttle, more throttle.” “Get your tail up.” I give it all the gas it can take and move the stick forward to lift the tail. As we gain speed I find it difficult to keep her straight (rudders), then she bounces, I move the stick a little back and we are off. No, I am not, one more bounce, the right wing goes down, I move stick over to the left and fly level and straight for a moment, then stick back and we climb to 300 feet and make a climbing turn to the left to 1000 feet, go down wind, and come in for a landing. When I think I am close enough to the field I stop the motor and glide in. The ground comes nearer and nearer I begin to level out. “Don’t level out until 20 feet from ground.” I put the nose down again and level out at 20 feet. I levelled out too soon and if the instructor hadn’t given it gas we would have made an awful landing, of course that is what he is there for. We climbed a little then “try again.” I reach the ground this time but, oh! 1-2-3-4 hops. “Stick back!” He shouts. “Stick back!!” which I do and we come to a stop. I expected to get hell but he just looks round and says “Try another one.” He is used to those landings. I look around again, blow the sweat off my nose turn into wind and off we go again. Open the throttle, hold the stick where you think it should be, wishing you were anywhere but in that plane tumbling over the field. The next landing was better. Another take off and the last landing was perfect. Another one and another round and round. My time is up, we go in and I’m happy both to get out of the plane and having the opportunity to fly. I won’t be real happy until I have passed my 50 hour test.
Swatridge, a nice chap, plays the piano just came over to me and told me that he smashed the undercarriage (wheels) in a landing so I am not quite as bad as the others. He has the same instructor as I have. He said they took another plane and went up again.
I wonder how much it would cost to send my banjo up here? You could take it up Mother you haven’t used your pass very much; how about it? Had a nice letter from Eric yesterday. Got my log book back again I had a mistake in my time. The log book is a book in which we write down each flight we do, what exercise we do and how long it takes. We have one each of us.
December 23, 1941
On the Halifax Train
Dear Mother;
It is about 2:00 afternoon. Swatridge just finished a letter to his parents, he wrote it on this typewriter and he feels just as proud of it as Wilfred or Ben would when he finished it, and he writes it just as slow too.
What a coincidence really, the car I got into was the right one after all and everything went ok. I shared another fellow’s meal ticket with him later that evening, had a sandwich a glass of milk and ice cream. Got to bed after 12:00.
I guess you went home with Lillian and her mother to wait for your train. How did you like Lillian’s makeup? She certainly convinced me as regards makeup I knew it looks awful but I never realized how disgusting it really is. She is quite nice looking when she washes it all off, tell IE about her.
I will make this one short as we are getting in to Moncton, will mail it there.
Love Frank
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
I believe Swatridge is on the right next to Lyle Emerson Armstrong.
On this photo taken at Fort William Swatridge is in the first row second from the right.
Chapter Ten – H.M.T. Stratheden – January 1942
Foreword written by Vicki Sorensen
My father, Frank Sorensen, immigrated to Canada from Roskilde, Denmark with his family in August 1939. He volunteered in the Royal Canadian Air Force in March 1941 and trained to become a Spitfire fighter pilot. He was shot down while serving with RAF 232 Squadron, over Tunisia, in North Africa on April 11, 1943 and became a prisoner of war at Stalag Luft III. He was an active participant in the tunnel digging operations that was later known as The Great Escape.
After my father’s death February 5th, 2010, when he was 87, I came into possession of letters written by him to his parents during the war that they had saved and given back to him. Along with the letters were numerous photos and service record documents. There were 174 letters in total which start from C.O.T.C., 1940, #1 Manning Depot, #3 Initial Flying Training School, #2 Elementary Flying Training School, #11 Service Flying Training School; all in Canada in 1941 to #17 A.F.U. (Advanced Flying Unit) and #53 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit) in England in 1942. Then, his service from 1942 in RCAF 403 Squadron, in England, transferring to RAF 232 Squadron in Scotland, then to North Africa. Numerous letters are from 1943 and 1944 from Stalag Luft III, and then a handful from 1945. There were only two short letters from the long march from Sagan to Lubeck – one in March letting his parents know he was still all right, and one in May when they had just been liberated.
H.M.T. Stratheden (source Internet)
January 8, 1942
H.M.T. Stratheden
Halifax, Nova Scotia
At last we are off or at least on the ship. This morning at 0830 hours we left the depot marched downtown to the harbour, picked up our baggage which had been sent down by trucks. I had to let a truck driver take care of the typewriter. After a roll call we got on board, went upstairs and downstairs looking for our quarters, and me with a typewriter, a “Rygsaek” (backpack) and a kitbag with 30 pounds of sugar in it, besides other things. I think I should have left the sugar in my other bag which went down in the ship. I was afraid the rats might get at it.
The Stratheden, I think it is called, belongs to the P&O line, whatever that is, and is a ship of 23500 tons with a speed of about 25 knots. It was used as a luxury liner in the Orient before the war, is now converted into a troop ship with a capacity of more than 3000 sleeping quarters, if I am not mistaken. It is a fairly new ship, 4 or 5 years old, but looks much older than the Duchess of York.
January ?, 1942
H.M.T. Stratheden
Halifax, Nova Scotia
I don’t know what date it is today but I think it is Saturday. We are still on the H.M.T. Stratheden, and still in Halifax harbour or rather lying in the bay ready to go. Some water pipes on C deck have busted by the frost I guess, and plumbers have been working at them yesterday and all night, they hope to be finished by noon today. A blackout will go into effect from 1700 hours today, which might mean that we will be off sometime tonight. NO I don’t feel like writing after 2 nights in those stinking sleeping quarters, I have such a lovely cold, everyone has, and I haven’t been on the can since I got on the ship. Will have another go at the typewriter this afternoon. It is feeding time now, I am hungry but I don’t think I will eat very much it is cold before we get to it.
Halifax January 1942 (Source Internet)
January 11, 1942
H.M.T. Stratheden at sea
This is our third day at sea, and nothing has occurred so far as regards enemy attacks, maybe we have not yet entered the submarine zone.
The food is lousy and is served as though we were hogs or prisoners of war. Fortunately we can buy canned food, fruit and fish, biscuits and chocolate at the canteen. We wash our own plates, etc. in some dirty greasy water or rather we used to, now we do it in the bathroom in the basins. I bought a face towel at the canteen to wipe my dishes with. We have an Indian crew on board, and so are our cooks. The worst part of it though is the fact that we have to walk through the kitchen to get to our mess. I think I could enjoy the food if I didn’t see them make it. They eat with their fingers.
Our sleeping room would be ok if the ventilators functioned, one could cut cubes from the air every morning. Nobody shaves on board this ship among the airmen. We have had lovely weather so far, but many of the fellows have been sick and still are sick. It is hard to find a spot where to operate the typewriter, I have even been in bathroom but somebody left yesterday’s dinner there and also a horrible stink so I had to find another place. There is a sergeant’s lounge on C deck but it is so crowded and one can hardly see from one end of the room to the other because of smoke. It is quite noisy where I am now but I have light and good ventilation, and what more, a table and a bench. A Norwegian pilot is playing his accordion. His escape from Norway was told in the Star Weekly a Toronto paper with a picture of him playing his instrument. It was in the 10/1/42. Mother should try and get it, quite interesting. Another chap here is from Lofoten, he got away with that British raid some time ago. He said most of the raiders were Norwegians and not British. He looks much like Poul Nielsen in Denmark. I could easily have mistaken him for Poul.
We have a few wounded soldiers from Lybia, there are about 75 of them, all English fellows. They got on at Suez. We are in a convoy of 2 troop transports the other one being a Norwegian ship, and one destroyer on each side. We hope to be in Liverpool by Sunday.
We have a muster parade every morning at 1030 hours, just a roll call. Have done a little walking on deck but not enough. We are not allowed on deck after dark. Am going for tea now. This is not typed very neatly or without mistakes. Most mistakes are caused by the rolling of the ship.
January 13, 1942
Tuesday was a quiet day and a very warm one too 50 degrees or above. Walked round the deck 22 times this morning. Saw quite a few porpoise in the water. Last night I moved out into the hall right outside our door, with my mattress and blankets because of the bad air in the children’s dining room, where we are sleeping, but just before I went to sleep, a gale of fresh air blew down through the ventilators so I moved back in again.
Focke-Wulf Fw 200 (Source Internet)
January 14, 1942
We have now spent 4 days at sea and with a speed of about 15 knots the convoy should have done half the trip. We must be getting within range of the Kondors, long range German bomber, but we haven’t encountered any yet. The sea was quite choppy when I got up this morning and a slight drizzle of rain made walking on deck slippery. I discovered today that I have worn a hole in the seat of my trousers.
We had quite a nice supper tonight consisting of tinned salmon and potato salad, flavoured with some tomato ketchup which I bought at the canteen. I wonder if you would like a little tomato ketchup as a treat. I am trying to learn to typewrite without looking at the keys, the touch method. I never noticed whether you could do that or not.
We had quite a storm this afternoon and right now I am being tossed from one side to the other. I hope the salmon does not come up again, haven’t been sick yet. I am sitting on F deck, just above and below the waterline, and every once in a while the huge waves outside pound the side of the ship with their many tons of water through a port hole. The food, tea and dishes on the table behind me were just swept down on the floor. I think I’ll quit now, I’ll begin one word and before I am through with the word I’m on my way down the bench. I wouldn’t mind it so much if the typewriter moved along too but it doesn’t. The salmon has started to swim around in my stomach, I wonder which way he will go.
January 15, 1942
The sea was so heavy last night that the rolling tore our bunks loose, and most of us had a very restless night. Several airmen were severely injured. I went out on deck before going to bed and as soon as I got outside I was swept down the wet deck. You should have seen the kitchen this morning; it was tea kettles, chunks of ham, bare feet and hard boiled eggs everywhere. The Hindus working in the kitchen walk about in bare feet. The cooks didn’t seem too amused themselves, I guess they are used to it, but I got a great kick out of watching it.
We have been keeping a steady course of NNE all day which shows that we have taken a southerly route and must have passed very close to the Azores. We might be in England Saturday night. I just had an interesting game of chess with Wood, a chap from Montreal.
January 16, 1942
I have heard that an order which came from England just before we left Canada said that no more aircrew were to be sent to England, as all receiving depot were filled. How much there is to that rumour I don’t know, but I think we stand a good chance of getting a long leave when we arrive in England. The loudspeaker just announced that everyone was to sleep with their uniforms on tonight. We must be close to the Irish coast now. I am trying to keep my eyes off the keys, therefore the many mistakes. We had an enemy air and sub attack drill this morning. I wonder if they will send us to the Far East after our operational training in England. We haven’t got much of an Air force there.
January 19, 1942
H.M.T. Stratheden
On the Clyde
We saw land yesterday, the south coast of Ireland. I was on deck to watch the beacons all along the coast, but was ordered below. It was quite foggy this morning when we reached Scotland and very cold too, but that didn’t keep the airmen below deck. There was a number of freighters and passenger ships anchored on each side of the river as well as warships and we also passed an aircraft carrier. We had just passed 3 Danish freighters when a U-boat sailed by on its way out, and as we passed we waved to the men in the cunning tower, shouting to them but they could not hear us very well and in return to our cheering we got a …-, from their whistle. I think we will dock this afternoon in Glasgow. A DRR for today, daily routine rumour; according to the German radio we are on the bottom of the Atlantic now. Coming up through the Irish Sea or Channel we had 6 Hurricanes circling us all day long. Will have a walk on deck.
Hawker Hurricanes (Source Internet)
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Chapter Nine – Halifax, Nova Scotia
Foreword written by Vicki Sorensen
My father, Frank Sorensen, immigrated to Canada from Roskilde, Denmark with his family in August 1939. He volunteered in the Royal Canadian Air Force in March 1941 and trained to become a Spitfire fighter pilot. He was shot down while serving with RAF 232 Squadron, over Tunisia, in North Africa on April 11, 1943 and became a prisoner of war at Stalag Luft III. He was an active participant in the tunnel digging operations that was later known as The Great Escape.
After my father’s death February 5th, 2010, when he was 87, I came into possession of letters written by him to his parents during the war that they had saved and given back to him. Along with the letters were numerous photos and service record documents. There were 174 letters in total which start from C.O.T.C., 1940, #1 Manning Depot, #3 Initial Flying Training School, #2 Elementary Flying Training School, #11 Service Flying Training School; all in Canada in 1941 to #17 A.F.U. (Advanced Flying Unit) and #53 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit) in England in 1942. Then, his service from 1942 in RCAF 403 Squadron, in England, transferring to RAF 232 Squadron in Scotland, then to North Africa. Numerous letters are from 1943 and 1944 from Stalag Luft III, and then a handful from 1945. There were only two short letters from the long march from Sagan to Lubeck – one in March letting his parents know he was still all right, and one in May when they had just been liberated.
December 23, 1941
On the Halifax Train
Dear Mother;
It is about 2:00 afternoon. Swatridge just finished a letter to his parents, he wrote it on this typewriter and he feels just as proud of it as Wilfred or Ben would when he finished it, and he writes it just as slow too.
What a coincidence really, the car I got into was the right one after all and everything went ok. I shared another fellow’s meal ticket with him later that evening, had a sandwich a glass of milk and ice cream. Got to bed after 12:00.
I guess you went home with Lillian and her mother to wait for your train. How did you like Lillian’s makeup? She certainly convinced me as regards makeup I knew it looks awful but I never realized how disgusting it really is. She is quite nice looking when she washes it all off, tell IE about her.
I will make this one short as we are getting in to Moncton, will mail it there.
Love Frank
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
December 28, 1941
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Dear Mother, Eileen and Brothers;
Well, here I am. That is about all I can say, I can’t even talk about the weather as all mail is censored that leaves the Maritimes. Let me know if this one is censored or not.
I wonder what kind of Christmas you had at home, a very quiet one I guess. I saw a show here on the station the night before Christmas. After the show an officer came in and asked for 2 men who “didn’t mind going out for Christmas dinner the next day.” I was right there. We had a good dinner too including beer and women, but it was a nice family, they even said grace.
December 29, 1941
I went to the post office about an hour ago to have a look through the usual pile of S’s, but there was nothing, then by chance, a woman in the office heard my name and brought out your letter 26/12/41. There is a Sorensen F.C. in the hospital at Dartmouth, not far from Halifax, so my airmail letter was on its way to Dartmouth.
The other day I had my old uniform changed or would one say exchanged for a new one and this is how: I went to stores while the P/Os were handing in their old stuff asking them if they had any new uniform, I found one so he handed in my old uniform and I walked off with a new one, the chap hadn’t even used it.
I saw another show this morning called “The Sea Wolf,” recommendable. Will see one again tonight. They are all free.
Tell Dennis to be careful with the bow, don’t let him shoot it off in the garden, if pulled right back an arrow will go right through a man just like a bullet, tell him also that the bow is broken about a foot from one end.
I have bought far more than $20 of foods and clothes. I wish I had more money as my kit bags have room for a few more bags of sugar, dried fruit or honey. They say one can get almost anything for those articles in England. I have 15 pounds of sugar, 4 packets of raisins, 3 packets of tea, 3 pounds of pipe tobacco, four $1 chocolate bars, 20 bars of soap, and other small things. I’ll get some canned butter too, 50 cents a pound, but I have only $4 left and I have not bought honey or fruit yet.
It will be a nice parcel for Dad when I get over. If I knew what size shirt Dad wears and whether he needs any or not, I would get some.
This is the program of the day here at this station yesterday, today as tomorrow: Breakfast, if we get up early enough, parade, route march, picture show, dinner, parade, route march, rest, supper, letter writing, show or an invitation for supper, then to bed at 12:00. But it will not last forever, this waiting, waiting, waiting. Will let this go tonight.
Love Frank
December 30, 1941
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Dear Dad;
I am sitting here in our barracks with great coat and white silk flying gloves on and yet my nose keeps on running. They certainly don’t believe in keeping the place warm. I have put an extra blanket on my bed so perhaps I’ll get out of bed a little earlier tomorrow.
I am getting to like this typewriter, I am even thinking of adopting it myself or in modern language, “protecting it.” I hope they will let me take it with me across, I am not worrying though.
The one day at this station goes by as did yesterday and the day before yesterday: Breakfast, parade, route marches, picture shows, dinner, parade, route march, rest, supper, another show or a dance on the station, if one is not invited out for supper by the nice people of Halifax. I spent Christmas Day with a good old or rather older lady and of course her very beautiful young daughter. The old man was a colonel in the last war.
December 31, 1941
Just come back from the mess hall, had a nice dinner after which I went to the overseas canteen and got a can of apple juice and some chocolate bars. We have a rather early supper here and before I get to bed I am always very hungry keeping me awake at night. I am sitting on my upper bunk writing this while others are lying around talking, some are shining brass and shoes and there are some busy opening some late Christmas parcels. I have been doing quite a bit of shopping lately, I got 3 cans of tobacco all different kinds but I think I’ll get 3 more cans of Picobac tobacco, I think that’s what you used to smoke in Brome. That can go down in the hole of the ship, I won’t have to carry it. I have bought 15 pounds of sugar, will get some more later when I see how much room and money I have. Raisins, tea and a little canned butter and a few parcels Mother put in I think it is macaroni.
January 2, 1942
This is the first letter or page in my diary I have written in 1942. It seems funny to write that figure, the same change as when I began to sign my name Sgt/P instead of Lac.
This morning we had our usual little march downtown and show at the station afterwards. I am sitting on my bunk again, sitting very comfortably with my back against a pile of blankets and my pillow, I will have to make use of this noon hour from now on writing my diary and resting at the same time, it reminds me of the time I sat on the “house” and shined my boots at the same time.
I got another invitation for dinner yesterday through a fellow whom I had not seen since I was in Toronto Manning Depot. That was the fourth turkey dinner I have enjoyed in Halifax besides the one we had here at the station. We saw another show this afternoon, nothing much really but just as good a show one would see downtown. Speaking about shows, I am getting tired of them, I have been for a long while not because I have seen so many until I came here. The Sea Wolf, by Jack London I think, was shown a few days ago at the station, an above average show, a show I enjoyed.
January 3, 1942
It is a wonderful day today, just like spring in Denmark. At last a large draft has been called out about 400 airmen, but we don’t know when we are leaving they might tell us this afternoon on the parade ground. Just got a telegram from Mother telling me to label this typewriter and that you use size 16 in shirts. I had told her that I would have bought you some shirts if I had known what size you used, but now I haven’t got enough money to get any. It is time for the parade now so must go.
January 4, 1942
Last night the 400 draftees including our bunch were all set to leave this station by train for another place about 60 miles north of here Debert or something like it to spend a few more days waiting for sailing accommodation while another 400 chaps just from embarkation leave were to have our bunks here at the depot. But on the parade at 1800 hours the O.C. called the whole thing off so here I am on my top bunk practising typewriting. I had a lovely game of badminton last night, played for about 2 hours doubles and was so tired that I could hardly walk back from the gym. I was always going to get some onions and honey and as it was a Saturday night and I might not be able to buy anything more here in Canada I walked up town just before 2300 hours and got 5 pounds of onions and 2 pounds of cheese as well as 4 or 5 pounds of honey. I have still got plenty of room in my kit bags. I wish I had the letters in which you mentioned the things you wanted. Somebody was telling me to take canned meats such as bully beef, I might take some along.
Right now I am going to the gym for some exercise, then I might go downtown to call on an old lady by the name of McKay. A friend of mine took me to her place last Sunday for dinner. She has worked for the CPR for 43 years as a telegraph operator. After dinner she told us about her travels in Europe, praising the CPR agents in Scandinavia for their kindness and for what they had done for her. I asked her if she had been in Denmark. She said she had but not very long, 2 hours or so which she spent at the CPR office in Copenhagen. She seemed very pleased when I told her who I was. She said she would get her granddaughter down next time I came along so I had better go and see what she is like, she is 19 and is studying for her B.Sc.
January 5, 1942
Am still here in Halifax, will soon have been here for 2 weeks. Saw 2 more shows today, stayed in barracks all day. Filled my bags on my webbing with foodstuff, I’d like to keep that with me, though it is a heavy load to have on my back when I have a blue kit bag and a typewriter as well. I hope I will not have to carry them very far.
I have gone to bed now with the case of the typewriter under my knees. Wallace who before getting into bed had a look at the machine and said “there is Sorensen, gone to bed with his typewriter again.” The other chaps are discussing the chances for a draft, while they are making their bunks. One of them said he saw some papers in the orderly room a list of men being posted or rather attached to the R.A.F. effective January 7 and 8 which might mean that we will be leaving soon. It is thought that our draft will be the largest ever sent across in a convoy. But of course all this is only rumours, and you know what rumours are like, one could compare them with northern lights, they appear, develop and fade away only to make room for some new ones. This certainly is a hot-bed for rumours if there ever was one.
Another day has gone by just like everyone of the other 12 days I have spent here: parades, route marches and picture shows. It is 2330 hours now most of the fellows seem to be sleeping or trying to. A chap who just came home from town feeling quite gay is making a lot of noise causing somebody to comment on his behaviour and believe they weren’t kind words he used. Guess it is time for me to quit.
January 7, 1942
We are getting closer and closer now to the day of embarkation, about 1500 airmen are called out on draft organized in flights of 50 men in each all ready to leave on a moment’s notice.
January 7, 1942
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Dear Mother, IE and Brothers;
Thanks for the telegram. If we get paid in Canadian money today I will try and get something for Dad in the way of shirts. If I can’t get anything at the canteen I’ll have to fill my bags with sugar and butter. We cannot go downtown anymore as everybody on draft is c.b.’ed.
Last week I was invited out by an old lady who has worked for the CPR for 43 years. She was in Denmark in 1938 but for only 2 hours which she spent at Dad’s office. She gave me some cheese and a box of chocolate for Dad.
Well there really is nothing much to write about I just thought I would send this as it will be the last letter you will get from me for a long time. Yes I’ll label the typewriter, I am really going to look after it, I am not letting it out of my sight except when it is locked up.
I hope to get a leave when I get over there so I can get to London and see Dad.
We just came from the morning parade, I am going to the gym now to see a show. I might add a little more to this letter if I stay here much longer.
Just came from an amateur show at the gym, prior to which I fixed all my baggage. Must go to bed now.
Good-bye Wilfred, Ben, Eileen, Dennis, Eric and Mother.
Love, and lots of it, Frank
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Chapter Eight – On Leave
Foreword written by Vicki Sorensen
My father, Frank Sorensen, immigrated to Canada from Roskilde, Denmark with his family in August 1939. He volunteered in the Royal Canadian Air Force in March 1941 and trained to become a Spitfire fighter pilot. He was shot down while serving with RAF 232 Squadron, over Tunisia, in North Africa on April 11, 1943 and became a prisoner of war at Stalag Luft III. He was an active participant in the tunnel digging operations that was later known as The Great Escape.
After my father’s death February 5th, 2010, when he was 87, I came into possession of letters written by him to his parents during the war that they had saved and given back to him. Along with the letters were numerous photos and service record documents. There were 174 letters in total which start from C.O.T.C., 1940, #1 Manning Depot, #3 Initial Flying Training School, #2 Elementary Flying Training School, #11 Service Flying Training School; all in Canada in 1941 to #17 A.F.U. (Advanced Flying Unit) and #53 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit) in England in 1942. Then, his service from 1942 in RCAF 403 Squadron, in England, transferring to RAF 232 Squadron in Scotland, then to North Africa. Numerous letters are from 1943 and 1944 from Stalag Luft III, and then a handful from 1945. There were only two short letters from the long march from Sagan to Lubeck – one in March letting his parents know he was still all right, and one in May when they had just been liberated.
December 10, 1941
On Leave
Kingston, Ontario
Dear Dad;
The last few days at Yorkton were very exciting having finished all our exams, flying tests and flying, we had nothing to do but wait and wait and take it easy. Taking into account the difficulties I had at Fort William, I am quite satisfied with my final mark in ground subjects, though they were just average. I am not saying that I could not have done far better, if I had been fit I mean physically fit. There were no decent recreational facilities at Yorkton and you know that I’m not 100% if my physical and mental work is not well balanced. I feel though as I grow older that I can do with less exercise. It affected my flying too or rather the joy of flying, for a while it even seemed like work to me caused by the same lethargic feeling I experienced at Queen’s. But I got my wings and after all that was the important thing, the commission I’ll get later, as a matter of fact I’m recommended for one, and I hope to get it before I am 20. They say that one third of the remainder of those who did not get a commission get it about 3 months later.
The day before we graduated we handed in our flying suits and all N.C.O.’s posted overseas were issued webbing. I used parts of mine coming home. The wings parade was held at 1900 hours last Thursday and that day we spent chasing from one corner of the station to the other getting our clearance papers signed so we could leave Yorkton early Friday morning. It was a great moment when I marched up to the C.O. and got my wings pinned on my chest. The C.O. said something to everyone of us and concluded with a “Be seeing you later,” at the smoker he meant but he never appeared. We had a grand time though with our ground and flying instructors as well as the mechanics. With one arm around the other fellow’s neck, he be an officer or S/P, a beer in the other hand we finished off at about 2300 hours to the tune of “Alouette.” Yes sir, we only get our wings once in a lifetime. The next morning before we left we were paid a fortnights S/P’s pay in advance so we were well off when we left. I am making about $113 a month now of which the difference in R.C.A.F. and R.A.F. pay is kept in Canada, I signed mine home. Then when I get to England I can send a maximum amount of 20 days’ pay home which amounts to approximately $75. Too bad I cannot send it all home.
On my way home I stayed at the Lidemarks for the Sunday and we went to the Danish church in Winnipeg. A Pastor Damskov held the sermon and I was to remember hi to you, he was in the immigration C.P.R. business a long time ago. He is about 75 years old. Lidemark is working hard for a Belgian who owns the farm, but next April they are moving to Port Arthur to their own farm, then Gunnvar will be looking for work. I should remember them all to you. They were very nice people indeed.
As I did not get a commission I am not sending you a cable. I certainly would if I had. I am taking this typewriter with me as you asked me to. I am beginning to like it, the Olivetti, it is easier for everyone to read, and is also more concentrated, compared with my handwriting. You should have given me a list of the things you need most which I could take with me over. Mother wants to say something so, be seeing you.
Love Frank
December 18, 1941
On Leave
Kingston, Ontario
Dear Dad;
Yours of 24/11/41 came today. I agree with you, it is not worth while sending our mail “by air,” so from now on Mother will send all mail the ordinary way.
The days have seemed like hours here in Kingston and I have only 2 more days at home as Mother and I are leaving for Montreal on Saturday. I have not seen Dean Clarke yet, but I am going up there this afternoon. I have met a few of my old frosh friends and they were all pleased to see me, one of them, his name is Zender, took me downtown for supper the other night. We used to do our physics labs together.
I am sitting in Eric’s room the one facing Earl, watching the kids returning from dinner, as time passes by more and more of them are running, and here comes a couple of frosh with their tams and ribbons; to complete the picture, a lonely black dog wandering from lamp post to lamp post from tree to tree, he must have found an extra good one right opposite here for he keeps on walking around it. We have the typical Kingston weather though it is not raining it is overcast and the streets are covered with a layer of wet snow.
In spite of the grey weather the Harvards have been busy all the morning most of them flying in formation. We have thoroughly enjoyed the “Frit Danmark” of which we have received quite a number. I was reading that any Danish pilots forced down in Germany are shot. Would it be quite safe for me to join any Danish squadron when I get over there?
Don’t bother about writing to me until I get overseas. I am still taking this typewriter along, but I am leaving the banjo here it is too much to carry around.
Love Frank
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Flight Lieutenant Frank Sorensen 