HomeMy WebLinkAboutClinton News-Record, 1953-01-22, Page 9Soldiers Load Supplies For RCAF Station, Clinton
FR :.
Left to right: Second Lieutenant J. H, Brubaker, Grimsby,
and Toronto and Sergeant H. H. Van Dusen, Hamilton check
ration invoices as Private A, F. Thorton, Kitchener, and Private
A. L. Marchand, Windsor load an RCAF truck. All are members
Of the new RCASC supply depot opened at itcAr Station, Clin-
ton recently to supply rations to Clinton and Centralia. The new
' unit is saving both services times and money by eliminating
previous transportation and handling from supply depot in London,
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Specials in 22's
AND REMEMBER
You won't buy a suit of clothes
without trying it on, so-
,
Be sure to buy your gun or rifle where you
can try it first.
Our Modern 20 Yard Range is always
available for your convenience..
1 Mossberg 42M Repeater-was $35.00-Now $29.95
1 Savage M5 Was $35.00-Now $29.95
1 Rem. Fieldmaster pump repeater-
Was $55.00-Now $49.95
1 Rem. .22 pump, Weaver B4 scope-
. Was $75.00-Now $69.95
1. Marlin 81DL, bolt action repeater-
Was $37.50-Now $34.95
1 Marlin 81DL, like new-Was $39.50-Now $38.95
1 Marlin 81DL, good condition-
Was $32.95-Now $26.95
1 Cooey Repeater, like new-Was 521.95-Now $18.95
1 Browning auto loader - Was 560.00-Now $53.50
1 Springfield 87A, auto loader-
Was $37.50-Now $34.75
1 only Cooey 12 ga. Shotgun, new but slightly
shop worn Only $19.95
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demic course at RMC, Kingston
last summer. He served with No.
One Coy., London before moving
to Clinton. Private Thornton en-
listed in the Army Pay Corps and
trained at Camp Borden. Trans-
ferring to the RCASC 'he served
at London before moving to Clin-
ton.
Members of the unit have quick-
ly fitted into their new station. It
took Private Thornton a few short
days to make use of his previous
musical background and join the
RCAF Station trumpet and drum
band as a trumpeter.
RCAF PERSONALS
When you move to new sur-
rounding,
And your friends are left be-
hind
When you feel a little lonely
And unwanted in your mind,
Remember there is always
someone .
Feeling lonely too,
Someone who would like to
make
A comrade out of you.
But you cannot sit and wait
at home
For people to appear;
You must smile at those
around you
And dispense an air of cheer.
Must try to help your neigh-
bors,
Act upon the Christian text;
There are just as many friend-
ly folk
In one place as the next.
Mrs. Ken Noble is convalescing
nicely at her home after having
had an appendectomy in Clinton
Public Hospital.
Congratulations to Steve Park
upon being granted his commission
and the rank of Flying Officer.
Best wishes and farewell to
LAC Dick Leslie upon his leaving
for his new post at Camp Borden.
Also to Cpl. Racine upon leaving
for St. John, Quebec.
AIRWOMEN ENTERTAINED
AT CAMP IPPERWASH
Approximately 160 Airwomen
of RCAF Station, Clinton, were
guests of the Second Rifle Batal-
lion at a dance at Camp Ipper-
wash on Saturday, January 17.
During the entertaining evening
numerous spot and dance prizes
were presented by Lieutenant
Col. Mathews, Officer Command-
ing, Camp Ipperwash, to the
airwomen and their escorts.
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Once standard equipment in a cotton mill, the old spin-
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But equipment improvements, such as replacing the
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It was a dark, muggy sort of morning,
the way Boston gets when fog rolls in from
the sea on March days and nights, But it
didn't seem possible it could be time to get
up, and still be this dark, when the knock
sounded. on my hotel-room door.
Drowsily arising, and brushing sleep out
of my eyes, I opened up. There stood Howie
Morenz, fully dressed.
I said: "Howie, don't you think it's a little early to be
getting up? It's still dark. Where are you going?"
"I'm not getting up" said Howie. "I haven't been to bed
yet. I've been out walking around the streets, thinking about
that play I missed. I lost the game for the team, and there's
no use going to bed, because I won't sleep."
And Howie dropped into a chair, buried his face in his
hands. His shoulders shook, because he was crying like a
little boy.
The night before, Canadiens had battled a grim overtime
play-off game with the Bruins. Both clubs had powerful teams,
there was little to choose between them in playing strength,
and nothing to choose, either, in the balance of that particular
game. There had been a face-off, and Cooney Weiland, a great
little centre-lee player who at, one time held the scoring
championship of the National League, faced Morons. The puck
shot into the air as the sticks clashed. Weiland jumped swiftly,
batted it down with his hand, pounced on it like lightning and
blasted off the shot that won the game, all done more quickly
than you can write, or even read, the words describing the play.
Morenz was heart-broken. He felt that he alone was re-
sponsible for the defeat of the team, because that's the kind
of player, that's the kind of man he happened to be. In all
the history of hockey, there never was a more sincere com-
petitor. Nights of an important game, indeed, on the night of
any game, Morenz would be at the rink at least an hour
before game time, restlessly pacing around the long promenade,
as high-strung as a thoroughbred that is being readied for a
race.
Howie Morenz died as he would have wanted it, in the
harness of the game he loved. At least, he sustained in hockey
the injury which led to his death. Hurtling in on an opposing
goal, he tripped, fell, caromed skates-first into boards, shat-
tered a leg. A great competitor, even when his blazing speed
was losing glittering fire. He lived for speed, lived by speed,
and for speed, he died.
The hockey world still recalls Morenz, but few know he
came into big league hockey against his will, over Ids own
tears, in fact. But that's another story, and some day it
will be written, right in this Calvert column.
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and treatment.
"Brown jobs" invaded RCAF
Station, Clinton, recently. Moving
up from London, a unit of the
Royal Canadian Army Service
Corps have set up house and are
busily engaged in supplying ra-
tions for the "Blue jobs" on both
air force stations at Clinton and
Centralia. The detachment of
Number One Supply Company,
RCASC„ is headed by Second
Lieutenant J. R. Brubaker, Grims-
by and Toronto. Others in the
unit include Sergeant H. H. Van
Dusen, Hamilton; Private A. L.
(Tony) Marchand, Windsor and
Private A. F. Thornton, Kitchener.
Dealing directly ,with food whole-
salers through contracts let by the
Department of Defence Produc-
tion, they are supplying the two
air force stations with foodstuffs
ranging from pepper to sides of
beef. The new RCASC supply de-
pot at Clinton eliminates previous
transportation trequired from Lon-
don and is saving time and money
for the armed forces.
Supply problems and rations are
old stuff to Sgt. Van Dusen and
Private Marchand. A veteran of
service with the Second Division,
Sgt. Van Dusen enlisted in the
RCASC in September 1939. He
saw service in the United King-
dom, France and Germany and re-
turned to Canada in March 1945.
Since the war he has served at
Camp Borden, Fort Churchill,
Manitoba and Oakville prior to
coming to Clinton. Private Tony
Marchand enlisted in September
1939 with the Essex Scottish Regi-
ment and saw service at Dieppe.
Transferring to the RCASC, he
served in Sicily and through the
Italian campaign. He was wound-
ed twice, once at Dieppe and once
in Sicily. He also served in the
campaign in Northwest Europe
prior to returning to- Canada in
September 1945. Since the war he
has served at Camp Borden and
London.
Second Lieutenant Brubaker and
Private Thornton joined the army
in 1951. Enlisting as a soldier,
Second Lieut. Brubaker was sel-
ected for officer training which he
took at Camp Borden. He saw
service at Fort Churchill before
taking an administrative and aca-
Clarry, while I run back. See
you at lunch!"
She wheeled about and, run-i
ning so quickly that she narrow-
ly missed slipping into the pond,
tore across the grass in the direc-
tion whence she had come.
Watching, Jack saw her wave her
arms to a trio of inquisitiVe chick-
ens that were about to leave their
enclosure. She was a cute little
tomboy and (he judged) not a day
over sixteen.
"I ' like her," he decided in-
stantly. "Bet she's damn' pretty
when she's dressed up-if she
ever is!" He resumed his walk
down the shingled drive.
"Good day to you, Master
Clarence!" the old farmhand
cried out as he neared the gate,
"It's good to have you back with
.us."
"It's great to ,be back-er-
Fred," Jack said, as he gripped
the other's outstretched hand,
"What? You remember me?"
The old man was delighted.
"Now who'd have thought that?
Ala the master'll be pleased to-
day. Two letters and here's the
paper and yes!' here's another
big un,"
-He gave Graydon two blue air-
mail forms, the morning's news-
paper and then fumbled In his
pocket for a large oblong envel-
ope, Jack gave it a careless
glance only to catch his breath
Suddenly when he saw that it bore
a London postmark and the label
of a Berkeley Street photograph-
er. That could mean but one
thing: he was certain of ft once
his fingers gripped the stiff board.
Impulsively, he slipped it into the
capacious side-pocket of his tunic,
buttoned this securely and smooth-
ed down the flap.
"Whew!" he breathed; as he
wiped a perspiring forehead:.
"That was a dose shave! What
the devil will I do with this? I
can't keep it but if it is Hyde's
picture I don't dare let there see
it while I'm here."
(To Ile Continued)
BRONOH1AL COUGH
Are you kept awake by 4 nerve-racking
bronchial cough? Is phlegm, so tightly
Peeked le your !Almeida( tubOs, no amount
of emighleg seems able to dislodge it? Templetoe's RAZ-MALI capsules are
esueefally made to loosen phlegm, so' It
tomes away easily sold you are telieved'of
coughing and whetting. G04,4.1\4'0 for,
quick fella. Ale, $1.35,at drngliiktS, • S.-46'
Cf4M0.11 Nrin-AV(10.14) "7.11VRSDAY: JANUARY 22, 1$.5$ PtIG NUTX
RCAF Station and Adastral 'Park News Editor: S/14 H. 1/17, KEANE, PRO No.
Phene 382 Local 252
Assistant: P/0 Helen Turner
Local 211 1 1
A perplexed frown knit his
forehead as he stared long at the
girl's features. There was some-
thing very familiar about the
eyes and the shape of the nose
and for a: moment he was positive
he had seen her before. Then
the true explanation came to
the nose was Mrs. Hayley's, the
incredibly long lashes were Clar-
ence Hyde's.
He glanced at his watch-half-
past' twelve. He could not re-
main in his room forever; it was
high time he got ready for lun-
cheon. But on his return from
the bathroom he paused long en-
ough to smoke another cigarette
while he cudgeled his brains in
an effort to recall everything
Hyde had told hire.
He was standing by the big
window as he smoked and his ob-
servant eyes caught sight of tIvo
great gaping holes in the turf,
not two hundred yards from
where he was. Bomb-craters and
big ones at that! They were so
close together that the gravel
from one had spilled over into
the second. That had been a
narrow miss for Halebridge. A
jerrybuilt house would have col-
lapsed from the detonation but,
as Colonel Hayley had truly said,
they knew how to build in Tudor
times.
When and how had that dam-
age been done? Had some raid-
er, turned back by interceptor
fighters from the New Forest,
been forced to jettison its load as
it fled homeward? It might even
be that Clarence Hyde had some-
thing to do with that; it would
not he stretching coincidence too
far for the boy had logged up
many exciting hours during the
Battle of Britain and the thought
that he had played a personal
part in the defense of his kins-
man's home was an intriguing
one.
Jack descended the stairs and,
seeing no one about and as it still
lacked twenty minutes of lunch-
time, decided to take a stroll in
the garden. He followed a wind-
ing path which led him to a gap
in the hedge and, as he looked
over the stile, saw in the adjoin-
ing meadow, not a hundred feet
away, an Army lorry with a wire-
less receiver revolving slowly
from its roof. A mobile CDCHL,
unit! At once keenly interested
he vaulted the stile and strode
toward it. Before he had taken
a dozen paces there was a stir in
the hedge. A khaki-clad sentry
stepped forward, came smartly to
attention and smacked his rifle-
butt in salute.
"Good morning, sentry," Gray-
don said with a pleasant nod. He
had to say something to cover up
his astonishment at this unex-
pected appearance. "A CDCHL
fob eh? Does it keep you busy?
"At times, sir," was the, cau-
tious reply. The soldier gave his
questioner a head-to-toe scrut-
iny. "Are you from the manor,
sir?"
"Yes, I am,"
"May I see your indentity
card?"
Jack suppressed a start at the
totally unexpected, though quite
reasonable challenge. As he un-
buttoned his breast pocket and
tendered the card for inspection
he mentally chalked up another
black against Hyde. The Isle .pf
Wight might be off the beaten
track but it was by no means a
sanctuary from inquisitors.
"Thank you, sir." The sentry
returned the card after a brief
inspection.
Acknowledging the soldier's
punctilotis salute, Graydon hast-
ily retraced his steps to the stile.
He realized he had been given a
polite hint to stay away from
that lorry. How fortunate he
had come on his walk unaccomp-
anied! The sentry looked to be
a stolid type who would carry
out his orders to the letter and
Jack was positive that even the
presence of Colonel Hayley
would not have spared his inter-
rogation. Fortunate, too, that
the soldier (as his badge, indicat-
ed) belonged to a North Country
regiment. Thanks to the service
custom of posting men to duties
far from their own homes, it
was improbable that he knew
anything about the Hayleys or
their relatives. Yet Graydon felt
much safer on the garden side of
the hedge.
He resumed his stroll in another
direction, across the lawn and
past the lily-pond toward a group
of majestic oak trees. From this
vantage-point he turned about
for a glimpse of the manor. Hyde
had not exaggerated its charm;
it was exactly like that photo-
graph in the travel-book; indeed,
the author of that volume might
have snapped hie camera shutter
from this very angle.
What a grand old house it was!
There it stood, rooted to the soil,
as it had stood for centuries, its
stones weathered to a shade that
blended perfectly with the land-
scape. Here was a house that
had been a silent witness to much
of the pageantry of England; a
house that--
"Hello, Clarry!"
The girlish voice, calling out
cheerily, came from a diminutive
figure who was now scampering
across the lawn toward him.
Barbara of course-and a Barbara
clad in old slacks, a. faded sweat-
er, stoekingless, but with canvas
sneakers on her feet and some
sort of cloth affair wound about
her head.
"I'm a perfect fright," she pan-
ted, as she stood looking up at
him. I've been cleaning the hen-
house. I daren't kiss you now.
I'm much too dirty." She ex- tended both hands to squeeze
Graydon's in frank delight.
"Hello, kid!" was the greeting
he decided. on after a moment's
deliberation. "You haven't chan-
ged much!"
"Well, of all the nerve!" she
flashed. "I might have known
you'd say that. But I just saw
Fred coming up the road and I
ran out to see if he's brought us a letter."
Jack glanced over the hedge-
top, (he was tall enough to do se
while the girl was not) to see an
elderly man approaching the man-
or drive, come along with
you." he volunteered.
• "Just the same as it used to
he," 13arbara rattled on. "You were-
.
always the very posh school-
boy and I was a dirty-faced little
brat," She smiled, revealing a
dimple in her right cheek. "I still amt"
grinning, Sack informed her
that she had a smut on her nose,
"Who wouldn't have?" she re.
totted, Wrinkling that member
at him. "I'd like to see you clean
a hen-house!" Then with all abrupt change of manner, she
added: "There should be word from Peter today. We didn't hear last post , Oh damn! I've
forgotten to Shut the gate and
those stupid hens will be all Net
the place. Yott het the' letters,
12'111 INSTALMENT
Graydon took the girl's pic-
ture from the wall and gave it a
careful inspection. There was
neither name nor date on the
hack to give him, any definite in-
formation but he noticed that the
mount was of more recent design
than was that of Hyde's likeness.
it was the portrait of a school-
girl perhaps twelve or thirteen,
wearing the hideous costume Pe-
culiar to English schools: crested
jersey, short skirt and long cot-
ton stockings, A braided plait
hung over each shoulder. Yes, it
was the "pig-tailed school kid"
right enough!
Laughing Through Clouds
A Story of the R.C.A.F.
By SEYMOUR ROBERTSON CePYright 1952
RCASC Plan Rations
For RCAF Station