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IN THIS ISSUE

• Les Davison begins the story of his wartime adventures
• Betty Audet, Charles King, and Dick Monaghan write to us
• Gerrit de Leeuw forwards a unique prenuptial agreement
• Matthew Swanston writes an eloquent plea for amateur sport support
• Don Henderson sends a story of a talking dog
• Catherine Green and Burke Dykes tell how to get fast action
• Miriam Ockenden sends some thoughts and quotes about mistakes
• Bruce Galway and Tony Lewis suggest interesting URLs
• The editor sends you an Easter card

Ron McVey in London, Ontario, originally put Les Davison is contact with Gerrit de Leeuw, who lived in Arnhem, Holland, at the time that Les was serving in a hospital only a block from Gerrit's home. Les has kindly agreed to let us reprint the story of his wartime experiences, which originally appeared in http://www.marketgarden.com. Here is the beginning of his story about his adventures as a medic in the 3rd Parachute Battalion, flying out of Britain:

WARTIME MEMORIES

After transferring to the 3rd battalion around the first week in August, 1944, I found myself attached as medic to the Headquarters company. The Medical Officer was a Capt. Rutherford, and I knew some of the other medics slightly, but now I cannot remember any of their names. As I was still a member of the 1st Brigade, things did not change much. We were constantly being either briefed for the next possible operation, or being debriefed from the last one, which had not come off.

We were stationed in Spaiding in Lincoinshire, a pleasant market town, and were billetted in what was a recreational park but which had been taken over for the duration. Our accommodations were Nissen huts, which were notorious for being very cold in the winter and warm in the summer. Fortunately, this was the middle of August and it was quite pleasant.

Life went on pretty much the same, constant training and exercises, briefings for future operations, and out on the town, either in the pubs or at the Corn Exchange dancing, in the evenings. On the 8th of September we were briefed for an operation, which, had it come off, would have been the biggest debacle in British Army history. Fortunately, it was cancelled. However, on the 15th September we were assembled in the briefing room once more. The plan was basically the same except the whole concept had been updated. D-Day was Sunday, the 17th of September, only 48 hours away. Everyone was convinced that this operation would be cancelled too; however, when we were confined to barracks it was pretty obvious that finally we would land after the operation was over.

The previous evening, Saturday, the whole barrack room had participated in a marathon game of 'Brag'. This is a form of poker played with three cards. On the Saturday afternoon we were paraded and had to change all our money into British printed "Invasion Money", plus a nominal amount of each currency as our next week's pay. These were French fancs, Belgian francs, and Dutch guilders. As this was the only money anyone possessed, this is what we played for. I have always been pretty lucky at cards and consequently won most of the money in the room. As each player was wiped out, he drifted off to his bed to sleep, knowing that we had an early call. Around midnight there were only four of us left, and it was decided that we too would retire for the night as we had no idea when we might get another chance for a good night's sleep. I totalled up my winnings and, after converting it at the official rates, I found I had won the equivalent of fifty-six pounds. This was about six months' pay and I was rather elated. Whether I would ever get a chance to spend any of it remained to be seen; nevertheless I stashed it into my inside battledress pocket and was soon asleep. Reveille, as usual, came much quicker than I thought it should. After all, it was only 6 a.m. and we were not taking off until somewhere around 11 a.m. Typical army, 'Hurry up and wait.'

After breakfast we paraded at 8.30, dressed in full battle gear, and were told to stand easy. After about ten minutes we were told to fall out, but not to leave the area. We lounged around for about an hour, doing the things soldiers do best - telling tall stories about their recent girl conquests. Finally, dozens of 3-ton Bedford trucks lined up on the parade ground, and we started to embark. Our destination was Grantham, about forty miles away, where there was a large airfield presently occupied by the U.S. Airforce. 'Ah hah!' the veterans said, 'we are going with the Yanks again.' This was a reference to the time when they flew from North Africa to Sicily with U.S. aircrews and quite a few of them were dumped in the sea.

There were literally dozens of Dakotas all lined up in rows with their engines idling. We were assigned to specific planes immediately and started to emplane. There was much banter and horseplay as we were emplaning and, in retrospect, I think this was to offset the natural nervousness we all felt. None of us, of course, would admit that we were nervous and the horseplay was a cover-up. With a total of about 30,000 Allied troops being air-lifted from Britain to Holland within 24 hours, roughly 60% parachutists and 40% glider-borne, plus the attendant fighter cover, you can imagine the congestion in the skies that Sunday noon.

Third battalion was in one of the leading formations and for some time after becoming airborne, we circled until the rest of our flight joined us. With the formation complete, we headed in the direction of Holland and it was an absolutely awe-inspiring sight to look out of the aircraft windows and see a never-ending line of planes, six abreast, with the fighters weaving in and out like mother hens. Each Dakota contained a "stick" of twenty men, all of whom carried, in addition to their personal kit and firearms, a kit bag or some other container. These would contain ammunition, grenades, food packs and, in my case, a kit bag full of medical supplies.

These containers were strapped to the soldier's leg so that he would be hands free while in the air. This was necessary so that he could control the drift of his parachute with the lift-straps. About 100 feet from the ground, the container would be released and would drop and be suspended from the soldier's waist belt by a 20-foot line. To the unitiated, this manouvre may seem a little hazardous; in fact we had learned in training that it was easier than jumping without any impediments. The reason for this was that when the kit bag hit the ground, the chute was relieved of the extra weight and the landing was much softer. In addition to the kit bag on my left leg, I also had a metal collapsible stretcher attached to my right leg, and when the time came to stand up, ready for jumping, I could barely move. I suggested to the medical sergeant that, because I could not move very fast, it might be better for everyone if I jumped last. He agreed, and so I was last out of the aircraft when we jumped at 1.56 p.m. on the 17th of September.

To be continued.

CORRESPONDENCE

Betty Audet writes: I am a feminist too, but for quite different reasons. I am a little younger and came along on the heels of those who picked up the slack when men went to war. I worked as an office clerk at $15 during my summer while I was still in high school; I did farm work at 17c an hour, and more advanced office work at $80 a month as the war ended. I was able to earn enough to put myself through university and then had a job where men and women were paid the same. After graduate work, I had another career that paid well and had responsibility.

The men I might have married were lost in the war, but in my late thirties I married a man with a very different background who was somewhat older. He had spent the war in a Japanese prison camp, but was not bitter. We always tried to help others, and for many years now it has been our philosophy of senior life. He is almost 94 and a couple of years ago won a VON volunteer award for the whole of Canada. He finds the days long when he does not have a volunteer job, but these are less common than those that keep him busy.

Charles King writes: If it is possible for a mere male to be a feminist, please put me down for that title!

ED. NOTE: Of course it is, Charles! And welcome to the ranks of those of us who believe that women have equal rights and responsibilities with men.

Dick Monaghan: Isn't it odd how people's cherished beliefs, not to say bigotries and superstitions, are clearly "the natural order of things." It is a fact that people who believed in "the natural order of things" set fire to "witches" and decried the invention of anesthetics as interfering with "God's will." Railroads were "the spawn of Satan" because they made it possible to travel (for the first time) faster than the speed of a horse - it was said blood would spurt from the passengers' noses at speeds in excess of 15 mph.

These same wonderful "thinkers" today oppose fluorides in the drinking water and sex education.

When will the reigning powers come to their senses and ask and heed my advice?

ED. NOTE: As soon as they make me prime minister of Canada, Dick!

Gerrit de Leeuw forwards this

SENIORS' PRENUPTUAL AGREEMENT

An elderly couple in their 80s were about to get married.

She said: "I want to keep my house."

He said, "That's fine with me."

She said: "And I want to keep my Cadillac."

He said: "That's fine with me."

She said: "And I want to have sex six times a week."

He said: "That's fine with me.... Put me down for Friday."

Matthew Swanston, Jack Peaker's 16-year-old grandson, holds two Canadian swimming records in his age group. His grade 10 English class was required to write a speech on any topic, using a persuasive argument. Here is the beginning of his eloquent plea for

SUPPORT FOR AMATEUR ATHLETES

I'm sure that most of you sitting in this room are very familiar with the sport of hockey. Without a doubt you have all seen this exciting game many times on television. Hockey games, scores, and statistics are broadcast all over the place - on the internet, the radio, and most importantly, T.V. Many Canadians go out to local sports bars and restaurants to watch "Hockey Night in Canada" on CBC, or cheer for their favourite team on TSN or Sportsnet. At times, all three of the major broadcasting stations are hosting different games, all being played at the same time. Hardcore hockey fans probably look up statistics on a regular basis, and keep in touch with not only Canadian players, teams, coaches and scores, but American as well.

How many people here know who Wayne Gretzky is? Of course, all of you do. What about Mats Sundin? Curtis Joseph? All of you have at least heard these names before.

Alright, now who here knows Michael Phelps? Some of you have probably heard of him before. He's an American superstar in the sport of swimming. He has dozens of national and international titles under his belt, and currently holds six world records. He is best known for his performance at the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens, Greece, where he won six gold medals and two bronze. The World Championships were being held in Melbourne, Australia, just this past week, and Phelps took home another seven titles. He is on track to becoming the greatest swimmer of all time.

However, not only do the Americans have Phelps taking home medals, but they have a slew of other swimmers who follow his lead. At the World Championships, the Americans took home a total of 31 medals, 17 of which were gold. Canada, on the other hand, ended up with a grand total of two.

Why does Canada's performance not even compare with that of the United States, our closest neighbour? The answer is simple; the average Canadian pays no attention and gives no recognition to any athletes other than hockey players. That is the true reason why the Americans, as well as a number of other countries, dominate Canada in most sports.

Now I will outline some of the facts that make this statement true. First of all, I will talk about the similarities between Canadian and American swimming. Both countries have financial support from private sponsors as well as the federal government; there is no doubt about that. Both countries have amazing coaches, who are dedicated and passionate about what they do. They take pride in their swimmers and their purpose. Not only that, but both countries have a system that is almost the same, and operates in the same manner every day. So you may ask yourself, why does the United States perform so much better than we do? Maybe there is a greater amount of talent coming from young swimmers in the U.S. You may think that it has something to do with the population. Since the Americans have a much greater population than we do, that may contribute to the fact that they are far superior to us.

But then why is it that Australia, a country with a population over 12 million less than Canada, performs so much better than we do? They have managed to raise a number of superstars right from the grassroots. Ian Thorpe is the greatest example. He owns nine Olympic medals, and has become known internationally as "The Thorpedo" for his outstanding performances, earning himself titles at major competitions such as the World Championships, the Commonwealth Games, and the Pan Pacific Games. Even a small country like Holland, which has a population over 100 times smaller than Canada, still manages to produce Olympic medalists every four years. At the 2004 Olympics in Athens, Greece, Canada won no medals in swimming. Not a single medal. It was a disgrace, especially considering that Holland won seven.

To be continued.

Don Henderson sends this

SHAGGY DOG STORY

A guy is driving around Newfoundland and he sees a sign infront of a house: "Talking Dog For Sale."

He rings the bell and the owner tells him the dog is in the back yard. The guy goes into the back yard and sees a Labrador sitting there.

"You talk?" he asks.

"Yes, I do," the Lab replies.

"So, what's your story?"

The Lab looks up and says, "Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told CSIS about my gift, and in no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.

"I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running. But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger, so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals.

"I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired."

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

"Ten dollars," the Newfie says.

"Ten dollars? This dog is amazing. Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?"

"Because he's a liar. He never did any of that stuff."

Burke Dykes and Catherine Green think this is a good

WAY TO GET POLICE ATTENTION

George Phillips of Meridian, Mississippi, was going up to bed when his wife told him that he'd left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window. George opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things.

He phoned the police, who asked, "Is someone in your house?" He said, "No." Then they said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be along when available.

George said, "Okay," hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the police again.

"Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people in my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now cause I've just shot them all." Then he hung up.

Within five minutes three police cars, an Armed Response unit, and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips' residence and caught the burglars red-handed.

One of the policemen said to George: "I thought you said that you'd shot them!"

George said, "I thought you said there was nobody available!"

Miriam Ockenden forwards these comments and quotes about

MISTEAKS

So, I made a mistake.

Mistakes happen. Not only do they happen, they are guaranteed.

My father used to say, the only way you won't make mistakes is if you don't do anything, and that itself is a mistake. Too many are afraid to try something new because they feel they might make an error. They are both right and wrong. Yes, they will probably make errors, but it is good to understand that errors go with the territory. You will never accomplish great or worthwhile things without risk, and risk generally means great mistake potential.

You are probably reading this by light bulbs invented by Thomas Edison. He made over a thousand light bulbs that didn't work. The world would have called them mistakes. He said he learned a thousand ways not to make a light bulb.

The way to avoid mistakes is experience; the way to get experience - mistakes. Don't feel bad because you messed up with something. Don't be afraid to venture out into a good thing because you are afraid that you might mess up.

While one person hesitates because he feels inferior, another is busy making mistakes and becoming superior. - Henry C. Link

An expert is a man who has made all the mistakes which can be made, in a narrow field. - Niels Bohr

We have to keep trying things we're not sure we can pull off. If we just do the things we know we can do ... we don't grow as much. We've gotta take those chances on making those big mistakes. - Cybill Shepherd

Finally in this computer world on misteaks: Dew knot trussed yore spell chequer two fined awl yore mistakes. - Brendan Hills

RECOMMENDED WEBSITES

Bruce Galway suggests this site if you are looking for a new doctor or want to know how other patients rate your doctor: ? http://www.ratemds.com/canada/

Bruce also sends this URL for another of the items on his list of things not to do. This video demonstrates that some of the current crop of 20- and 30-year-olds are simultaneously exceedingly fearless risk takers, superb athletes, and the most inarticulate Americans of all time, at least on record. What this snow boarder did is unbelievable. It shows what can be accomplished in this age, when we harass our fears and take on other challenges of the twenty-first century. The video is amazing ... the commentary is numbingly vapid, each stunning in its own way. As they will tell you, this is gnarly.

http://www.youtube.com/v/Rd8AJdcnw4A.swf

Tony Lewis, who has been writing a blog about his recovery from a triple heart bypass, is feeling so well now that he believes his blog will soon be finished. To see how he has progressed, go to

http://newheartnewstart.blogspot.com

For my Easter wish for you, please click on the following link. If your e-mail program has not displayed this as a link, then please copy the following into the Address or Location bar of your Internet browser.

http://www.jacquielawson.com/viewcard.asp?code=1193944081192

Alternatively, please visit http://www.jacquielawson.com and select the Pick Up Card option in the menu. Then enter your card code, which is: 1193944081192

Democracy is a process by which people are free to choose the man who will get the blame. - Laurence J. Peter