{"id":25757,"date":"2023-11-11T12:48:54","date_gmt":"2023-11-11T17:48:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=25757"},"modified":"2023-11-11T12:50:48","modified_gmt":"2023-11-11T17:50:48","slug":"episode-910-remembrance-day-2032-last-fight-of-hx-313-who-could-forget-victor-poppa","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=25757","title":{"rendered":"EPISODE 910 REMEMBRANCE DAY 2032 \u2014 LAST FIGHT OF HX 313 \u2014 WHO COULD FORGET VICTOR POPPA?"},"content":{"rendered":"
EPISODE 910      REMEMBRANCE DAY 2032 \u2014 LAST FIGHT OF HX 313 \u2014 WHO COULD FORGET VICTOR POPPA?<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
Nov. 11, 2023<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Victor Poppa touched my life.  And, yes, I do remember him.  Readers may find this Episode too long for<\/div>\n
casual reading.   I understand.  The story is  a living story even though Victor died decades ago. Thisstory<\/div>\n
was written when he was alive and we visited him in his unuusual California home.   I hope ou find <\/div>\n
the story both moving (tears) and amusing (laughter).  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
My cousin, George Freeman, (who I never knew when he was living),,,George and Victor were both<\/div>\n
gunners on HX 313.  Good friends in 1944.  George was killed when a German fighter strafed  HX 313.   As the plane pirouetted out of <\/div>\n
formation On May 24, 1944, Victor was trapped in his rear gunners’ bubble.  He felt he was about<\/div>\n
to die then the force of the fall twisted the bubble and he fell out\u2026read the story\u2026..<\/div>\n

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Begin forwarded message:<\/div>\n


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From: <\/b><\/span>SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com<\/a><\/a>>
<\/span><\/div>\n
Subject: <\/b><\/span>VICTOR POPPA … JOURNAL OF HIS LIFE<\/b>
<\/span><\/div>\n
Date: <\/b><\/span>October 28, 2019 at 12:04:12 AM EDT
<\/span><\/div>\n
To: <\/b><\/span>Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com<\/a><\/a>>
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When I think of Victor Poppa I want to laugh and cry at the same time.<\/div>\n
(I think Victor will be  pleased with this story wherever he is.)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\n
I have been considering this story for more than 40 years.  Should the life  of<\/div>\n
Victor Poppa be edited\u2026be sanitized in other words.  Or should it be presented<\/div>\n
just the way he wrote it back  in 1984.  I  decided  to be true to Victor and<\/div>\n
present the story just as he  wrote it.   Rough and real.  Soft and sweet.<\/div>\n
Some people will be disturbed no doubt\u2026<\/div>\n
either by  the brutality of the World  War II bombing of Germany or  by Victor\u2019s<\/div>\n
sexual exploits  when on the ground.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
oct. 2019<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\"\"<\/div>\n
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Take  a moment.  Look closely at Victor.  His face in 1987 needs to <\/div>\n
be burned into your brain.  Look at that smile.  And  look deeper if you can.<\/div>\n

VICTOR POPPA was such an unusual man that I have difficulty finding a place<\/p>\n

to start my story of his  life.   He was unique in many ways but foremost was<\/div>\n
his  ability to make every moment of his life magnetic, humorous and so enjoyable.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
VICTOR POPPA:  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
Oct. 2019<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n
As  mentioned  in my story titled \u201cthe Last Flight of HX 313, Victor was the tail<\/div>\n
gunner in a Halifax bomber that was strafed and  set afire on a  bombing run over<\/div>\n
Bourg Leopold on May 17\/28, 1944.   He was trapped in his bubble and sure<\/div>\n
to die as the big plane pirouetted out of the night sky burning in its death throes.<\/div>\n
Then by a quirk of  fate the plane made a violent turn that threw Victor out<\/div>\n
to the open bubble.   His  parachute was only attached by one thin strap<\/div>\n
and Victor had to pull the strap down to grab the D ring.  When he did so<\/div>\n
HX 313 and Victor were separated but both in free fall.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Victor survived but was badly injured.  That much you already know but there<\/div>\n
is so much more that I would like to share with you.  Initially I only knew <\/div>\n
Victor from his letters  sent to me in 1984.   He cried when I first initiated<\/div>\n
contact with him.  MY letter was sent 40 years after the crash.  Totally unexpected.<\/div>\n
Victor was  then living in a trailer camp near Lake Elsinore, California.  Retired<\/div>\n
air industry worker who moved to California when the AVRO  Arrow was <\/div>\n
scrapped  by the Diefenbaker government in Canada.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Sometime around 1990, Marjorie, Andrew  and I visited  Victor.<\/div>\n
I had a  short term sabbatical leave from teaching and  we flew to <\/div>\n
New Zealand and  Australia to look at their educational systems at<\/div>\n
our own expense.  On the return flight we stopped for a few day<\/div>\n
in California to visit with Victor and Louise Poppa.  We had no idea what  <\/div>\n
to expect.  Our visit made New  Zealand and  Australia fade into the<\/div>\n
background.   <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Victor met us at the airport in Los Angelus driving a very large and very<\/div>\n
dated Cadilac.  He had a grin a mile wide.  He loved us and made no<\/div>\n
pretence otherwise.  In those few days  with the  Poppa family a  lot<\/div>\n
of things  happened which are stories  in t themselves so  \u2018let me count<\/div>\n
the ways\u2019 as the love poem stated.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
1) The Cadillac.  It had seen better days at least a decade earlier.  We never<\/div>\n
made the trip to Lake Elsinore.  On one  semi deserted  California<\/div>\n
road, the Cadillac stopped.  \u201cDamn thing, let\u2019s me down too often.\u201d<\/div>\n
It was around 9 p.m. and the problem seemed  easy to me.<\/div>\n
\u201cPhone  the AAA and we can get a taxi to your place.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNot that easy, Alan.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cSomeone has to stay with the car\u2026can\u2019t leave it by the side of the road\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll get stripped.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cSurely not\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cFact of life here\u2026got to be careful.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWho will stay with the car?  Victor , I can stay here\u2026no problem.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWould you mind, Alan?   Louise and Marjorie and  Andrew can get home with me<\/div>\n
by taxi.  You stay with car and tow truck until it\u2019s  safely put away\u2026won\u2019t take long\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
So away  they went by taxi while I was left to mother the Cadillac and wonder<\/div>\n
what evil persons were watching from the California darkness.  Probably waited <\/div>\n
only an  hour or so.  Not long.  No incidents.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
My initial image of  California was based on Hollywood.  Great wealth.  Extravagant lifestyles.<\/div>\n
Splendour.   Well, Victor did not live that way.  His home was  a long trailer in a sprawling<\/div>\n
trailer park where Victor had a lot of space to keep things.  Things?  Lots of spare tires,<\/div>\n
fuselage of a light plane with no wings, motor parts\u2026that kind of thing.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
2) \u201cYou and Marjorie can sleep in this room.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNice.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cGot to be careful though.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cClose to the Mexican border\u2026never know who is  passing through.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDangerous?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cCould  be.   Look under your pillow.  There is  a pistol there.  If someone<\/div>\n
comes in through the window shoot first, ask  questions  later.\u201d<\/div>\n
(I thought Victor was joking and maybe he was.  One thing certain  is that<\/div>\n
there was a  real pistol under the pillow.)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cNice picture above the bed\u2026sort of contrasts with the pistol.\u201d<\/div>\n
(Not sure if I said this or just thought it.  Above our bed was a picture<\/div>\n
of Jesus Christ with a  beating heart with words like \u201clove\u201d  and  \u201cpeace.\u201d.)<\/div>\n
\u201cWe are Catholic, Alan, maybe you and  Marjorie would like to come with <\/div>\n
us to mass on Sunday.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNo problem.\u201d<\/div>\n
The picture of Christ and the pistol under the pillow were formost in my<\/div>\n
mind by then.  The  two  things just did not fit.  That became  my image<\/div>\n
of California.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
3) \u201cThis is Shadow, our dog.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat breed?\u201d <\/div>\n
\u201cPit bull\u2026good guard dog.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDangerous?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNever know around  here.  This is not a gated subdivision.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI mean is Shadow dangerous?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cCan be, but I have a solution to that.  Look here.\u201d<\/div>\n
(Victor pulled a baseball bat from behind the front door.  Not just an<\/div>\n
ordinary baseball bat but a bat that he had \u2018improved\u2019 by driving<\/div>\n
long spikes through drilled  holes so that the long  points  were  exposed.)<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s it for?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cShadow.  If he attacks someone or just attacks another dog, I give  him<\/div>\n
a good rap  on the nuts with this  bat.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYou are  joking.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNope, I take Shadow for a walk every with and take the bat along with me.<\/div>\n
You can come with us.\u201d<\/div>\n
(And sure enough, Victor was telling the truth.  His  great grin never left<\/div>\n
his face all the time we were with them.  The grin fooled me often.}<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
4)  Shadow was  a nice dog.  He liked  us.   Shadow  made me laugh so<\/div>\n
hard one evening that I nearly died.  I  mean it.  I nearly died.  Victor <\/div>\n
saved  my life that evening.  I must tell this story for it shows  another<\/div>\n
facet of  Victor.   He had many facets\u2026many skills\u2026a heart so  big<\/div>\n
it enveloped all.  That is probably why he was so  lucky with English  girls<\/div>\n
when on leave in England.  He was very  heterosexual. Those stories will come later<\/div>\n
\u2026in full detail<\/div>\n
if I have the nerve to transcribe them.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, let me  tell you a story about Shadow.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t tell me he bit somebody.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cShadow does not bite\u2026just looks like wants to bite if things get tense.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cStory\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cA couple of nights ago Shadow was eating his dinner.  Bowl  was almost <\/div>\n
empty when a mouse jumped  in the bowl.   Shadow was surprised and  looked<\/div>\n
over at me.  Then he looked  back  at the bowl with a furrowed brow.  And<\/div>\n
he then  did the weirdest thing.  He parted his lips  and  slurped the mouse<\/div>\n
up.  Then looked at me again.  The mouse  was trapped in his mouth between<\/div>\n
his lips and  his teeth.  And the mouse was running back  and forth making <\/div>\n
bulges in Shadows mouth.  Shadow was startled.  He  seemed to be asking<\/div>\n
me what he  should do with the mouse\u2026not eat it but where could it be released\u2026<\/div>\n
set free\u2026where could he put the goddamn thing gently.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
We were sitting in a restaurant when Victor told  me this story.  One of those <\/div>\n
all you can eat places that cater to retired Americans with limited money.  I was<\/div>\n
eating some kind  of stew with large chunks of meat.  And  I was  laughing hard.<\/div>\n
My image of Shadow  was  so  funny I could do nothing but laugh.   Then<\/div>\n
 a lump of meat got wedged in  my assophogas.  Blocked<\/div>\n
entirely.   This  had  never happened before but I knew that moment that I <\/div>\n
would be dead unless helped.  I was suffocating while Everyone was  laughing. <\/div>\n
 No one suspected<\/div>\n
I  was  on the verge of passing  out\u2026perhaps choking to death.  I  couldn\u2019t<\/div>\n
speak.  Precious seconds ticked by.  I then leaped up on the table trying to<\/div>\n
gasp\u2026trying to get even sliver of oxygen but failing.  Panic.  It was then <\/div>\n
that people  realized  I was in serious trouble.  I jumped down  from the table\u2026could not <\/div>\n
breathe.  No one knew  what was wrong.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
But Victor was a man who knew a crises when he saw one.  He immediately<\/div>\n
jumped from his chair linked  his arms  around my back below my rib cage<\/div>\n
and gave me one hell of hug.  Bingo!  In that split second the lump of beef<\/div>\n
was ejected and I could breathe again.  I will never forget that moment.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cHow  did you know  what to do, Victor?  How did you know to give me that hug?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t.  Never saw that happen before.  Seemed you needed  help.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cVictor, you saved my life.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cHow did it happen,  Alan?\u201d asked Marjorie.<\/div>\n
\u201cIt was that goddam story about Shadow\u2026made me laugh so  hard I could cry\u2026<\/div>\n
make me take a deep breath with a mouthful of food.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy  so  funny?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cBecause I pictured Shadow with that furrowed brow while the mouse was<\/div>\n
running back  and forth inside his lips.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
5)  And  of course we talked about World  War II at length.   Victor felt <\/div>\n
devastated  when he returned to England after walking  out of his POW<\/div>\n
campt in Germany and trekking with Seeley and  nine French nurses<\/div>\n
through the chaotic  ruins of the Third Reich to American lines in what<\/div>\n
would become West Germany.  \u201cGeorge Freeman, I called him Hank, was<\/div>\n
my best friend\u2026we were both gunners in 424 Squadron, RCAF and that was<\/div>\n
a bond but our shared  life together on military \u2018leaves\u2019 really made us as <\/div>\n
tight as brothers.   Someday i will tell you about our experiences with English<\/div>\n
girls.  We met a lot of them.  George  was about to marry one and would<\/div>\n
have done  so had not that JU 88 strafed his middle gun turret.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cI am writing a story of my life,  Alan\u2026don\u2019t know  what to do with it <\/div>\n
really\u2026let me send  a copy to you\u2026I have a  good  memory for detail.<\/div>\n
Maybe you can make something out of it.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Victor did sent me his hand written journal.  This is only part of the story.  <\/div>\n
Part One.   What do I remember most about Victor?  He laughed a lot.<\/div>\n
His  face was creased with a few wrinkles that turned upward and not <\/div>\n
downward.  He was always  good  company, a  person people like to spend<\/div>\n
time with.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
6) My only flying experience with Victor came about almost as an<\/div>\n
afterthought.   I did  not know he  owned a Cessna 170.  It was obvious<\/div>\n
that he was not a wealthy man since his home was  a trailer in a <\/div>\n
trailer  camp that seemed insecure\u2026need for the pistol under the pillow  <\/div>\n
and  Shadow the laughing<\/div>\n
pit bull.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cWould you like to go up, Alan?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cFly around Lake Elsinore\u2026we  can do that\u2026I own a plane\u2026keep it<\/div>\n
near here.  How about it?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cSure.\u201d  (I said that with some nervousness as my experience with light<\/div>\n
airplanes was not a bed of roses.  Flying in S 52 helicopters in the wilds<\/div>\n
of Western Alaska had been exciting when I was a single male of limited <\/div>\n
value to anyone.  And then later aborting a takeoff on a swampy lake<\/div>\n
full of deadfalls  in Ontario\u2026and doing the attempt again with a pierced <\/div>\n
pontoon.  And hearing tale after tale of bush flights that failed.   These made<\/div>\n
me a little nervous to say the least.)<\/div>\n
But I said  \u2018sure\u2019 and  Victor drove me to the nearby airstrip where<\/div>\n
his Cessna sat.   <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cHow long have you had this, Victor?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cQuite a  few years\u2026love to fly\u2026wanted to be a pilot back in the war but<\/div>\n
they had lots of pilots and  made me a tail gunner.  I just love flying.<\/div>\n
Get in.\u201d<\/div>\n
(A Cessna is  a light aircraft\u2026could carry two people and a bit of baggage. <\/div>\n
I notice the paint had pealed  off in several places.)<\/div>\n
\u201cBuckle up, here we go.\u201d<\/div>\n
Victor was  in his element as we taxied to the runway  and full throttled<\/div>\n
our way into the California skies on a clear bright day.<\/div>\n
\u201cImportant to buckle up Alan, because of that door.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat door?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYour door doesn\u2019t close properly\u2026easy to push open.\u201d<\/div>\n
I tried  to move a little closer to Victor\u2026this flight was not a good idea.<\/div>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s Lake Elsinore ever there\u2026coming up.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDo you fly often?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhenever I can\u2026mostly alone.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLouise doesn\u2019t like to fly unless we are going somewhere special<\/div>\n
in the interior.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, take a look down there\u2026gated subdivisions\u2026more and more of  them being<\/div>\n
built.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy\u2026are they needed?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cRich people seem to live in fear so they have guards<\/div>\n
at the front of their estate homes.  Costs  a lot of money.<\/div>\n
The rest of us  live wherever we can find a place   No guards.\u201d<\/div>\n
And  Victor circled over one gated community with a fancy Spanish name that<\/div>\n
I have forgotten.  <\/div>\n
\u201cCan I take your picture Victor\u2026.while we are in the air?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
And this is the picture I want readers to see. This was  Victor Poppa around<\/div>\n
1990.  Beside it is his picture when he was a 22 year old gunner on HX 313.<\/div>\n
Note one thing.  They look the same.  They  have that devil may care look.<\/div>\n
Hard to hold back a smile\u2026determined to live life to the full and prepared  to<\/div>\n
share whatever he has with friends.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Now I think you are ready to read  Victor\u2019s  journal.  I have  decided not to<\/div>\n
edit his sexual exploits for they are as funny and  sensitive as  Victor\u2019s dog<\/div>\n
Shadow with a mouse running under his lips.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
THE JOURNAL  OF VICTOR POPPA<\/div>\n
(sent to Alan Skeoch in January, 1987, transcribed by Alan Skeoch 2019)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Alan, I am going back to day one in the story of my life.   Nine months after that<\/div>\n
gleam  in father\u2019s eye,I was born, August 30, 1921. The last of five children.  My<\/div>\n
life up to four was uneventful until one  day as was just standing  in  my back yard<\/div>\n
my oldest sister Sylvia approached  me  with one arm behind her back. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cVictor, guess  what I have for you?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
She handed  me a model airplane with about a  6 inch wingspan with two<\/div>\n
wings,  From that day my life was purely  airplanes.   I used to walk to the <\/div>\n
Elliotts airport and watch the airplanes take  off and land.  Mostly Curtiss<\/div>\n
Jennies (JN4w\u2019s)  I also remember a  damaged deHaviland Hornet Moth<\/div>\n
\u2026a high winged airplane , cabin for 2 people.  I can remember sliding my hand over<\/div>\n
the shiny fabric and dream.  Since the airport was near Hamilton bay, we were<\/div>\n
also visited by a Vickers Vidette, an English airplane.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Elliott\u2019s airport closed down and a new one opened about an eighth of a mile<\/div>\n
from our house. Here they had  four Gypsy Moths (de Haviland)  but the airport<\/div>\n
had a short life because the approach and runway  were not ideal.  Finally <\/div>\n
Hamilton\u2019s Civic Airport was built and  lasted until the end of  World War II<\/div>\n
when  it became a  housing tract.<\/div>\n

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Only a mile from home  so I spent as much  time there as  I could.  Enjoyed watching<\/div>\n
the  Piper Cubs land  and takeoff.  The Cubs had tail skis instead of tail  wheels.<\/div>\n
Hamilton\u2019s first air force Squadron , 424, was formed here. Equipped with Tiger Moths, then<\/div>\n
later  Fleet airplanes with 90 horsepower Kenner radial motors.  It was  a big<\/div>\n
day for me when a Lockheed 10 landed.  It had two motors and  I marvelled <\/div>\n
at how it could take off and  land  in such a short space. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Then, for two dollars that I had saved,  I got a ride in a Taylor Cub.  I walked<\/div>\n
on the  clouds for days after that one.   One  day  a Piper Cub J3 crashed and<\/div>\n
the pilot was  killed.  I looked at the crash soberly but my feelings  for airplanes and<\/div>\n
flying were not dampened.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
One winter day I was  leaning against the  4 foot fence looking at a Curtiss<\/div>\n
Reid  Rambler with its inverted cirrus motor.  The owner Ray C. came to his<\/div>\n
airplane.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n
\u201cMister, I have 75 cents  to help pay for the gas, could give a ride?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
He agreed but disappeared for a long time.  it was  a really cold day  and<\/div>\n
my feet by this time  were freezing So I left,  downcast, not for my 75 cents<\/div>\n
but that I had  been let down.  I had come so close to an airplane ride.<\/div>\n
The next week end I went back to the airport and while looking at the old<\/div>\n
Rambler, Ray C. came  along.  He spotted me.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cHey, aren\u2019t you the kid that gave me the 75 cents for gas?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
My heart skipper a beat.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cCome on, get in.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I climbed nto the front seat, Ray  strapped me in.  Soon we  were taxiing to the <\/div>\n
active runway. Before  i knew it we were in the air in this wonderful yellow<\/div>\n
airline with tis two  wings.  We flew up towards Hamilton\u2019s so called  mountain where i was treated to <\/div>\n
steep turns, dives, and spins.   The cold day did not matter one bit.  The  wing <\/div>\n
arrangement was called  Sesqui-plane because of the short lower wing.  Had<\/div>\n
struts instead of  wires.  At the time, I did not know that Ray\u2019s airplane was a <\/div>\n
retired airplane from early RCAF  days.  All this came to light on looking through<\/div>\n
my 1985, 424 Squadron history book purchased  from the squadron reunion in <\/div>\n
the summer of 1985.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“During these tender years I built model  airplanes and  I still do  for that matter. As a very <\/div>\n
young lad I was not familiar with balsa wood so I used my mothers\u2019 kitchen knife to split<\/div>\n
pine boards with the help of a hammer.  Mother never said  anything about the abuse<\/div>\n
of  her knife.   I used  my imagination a lot.   I made a hanger from a wooden box<\/div>\n
wirth my squadrons installed as I whittled.   By he tie I reached  high school my<\/div>\n
had really progressed with my model airplane building.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“During  lunch  hours in High School, I didn\u2019t bother with sports or running through<\/div>\n
peoples back yards, climbing fences, etc.  Instead I went over to a small building<\/div>\n
where Piper J3s were being covered and  later assembled at our local airport. <\/div>\n
I used to enjoy talking to the fellows working  there and smelling that wonderfull<\/div>\n
dope they used.  It smelled so \u2018airplane like\u2019. (I wasn\u2019t into glue sniffing though.)<\/div>\n
To me  a person has not lived until that person visited a place where airplanes<\/div>\n
were covered  with Irish linen, then painted.  The smell was like fine perfume.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“About the last year I was  in high school the National Steel Car Corporation of<\/div>\n
Hamilton was aproached by Ottawa and asked to build an airplane factory in Malton<\/div>\n
just outside Tronoto.  When possibleI would wangle  car  ride from Hamilton to<\/div>\n
Malton to see if I could get a job there.  Sometimes  I travelled all that way  on<\/div>\n
my bicycle.  And often  I hitchhiked.  Finally i was hired on August 28, 1938.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\n
GAP HERE\u2026A PAGE SEEMS TO BE MISSING SO STORY JUMPS<\/div>\n
VICTOR\u2019S FIRST EXPERIENCES AS A VOLUNTEER SOLDIER<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“About 100 of us were loaded in trucks and driven to Long Branch, a suburb of<\/div>\n
Toronto.   We  were unloaded, marched and line-up.  We  were  each given a <\/div>\n
Ross rifle and handed 10  rounds of .303 ammo.  On order we  were  to load and<\/div>\n
fire at will. Bullets hit rocks and whistled every which way.  It was a frightening <\/div>\n
experience.   I almost  dropped my rifle but pulled myself together and fired my<\/div>\n
ten rounds.  That was  my first World War II shooting experience.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Just before posting  out on my first pay parade the paymaster counted<\/div>\n
out my pay.   I was given $10  more than I was due which I returned and<\/div>\n
was thanked for my honesty.  That\u2019s the way I am. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I was posted to Quebec City where I met my wife Louise  Voyer.  <\/div>\n
(Louise was a girlfriend not a wife until after the war.  In between<\/div>\n
Victor was  never short of  female companionship when on leave.<\/div>\n
And  that is an  understatement.)   Then I was posted  to Belleville, Ontario<\/div>\n
to Number 5 I.T. S.  Here we study airmanship, navigation, wireless, etc.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
At this school decisions were made about our future  positions and placement.<\/div>\n
I did not apply my energy fully asI should have and as a  result I was  offered<\/div>\n
the opportunity to be a Bombardier.  Disappointing day. I would not be a <\/div>\n
pilot.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cIf I can\u2019t be a pilot, Just make me an air  gunner then.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“So I was posted #9 Bombing and Gunnery school at Mont Joli, Quebec where<\/div>\n
the St. Lawrence River is 20 miles wide.  We  flew in worn out Fairey Battle\u2019s.<\/div>\n
Two students at a time.  Bitterly cold.  When we fired our drum fed Vickers <\/div>\n
gas operated machine guns we  would hold one hand on the barrel and<\/div>\n
fired until the hand was warm, then  we switched hands.  My flying time<\/div>\n
at St. Joli was13 hours and 45 minutes.  I graduated as a  sergeant, given  <\/div>\n
leave  and posted overseas from Halifax, Nova  Scotia\u2019<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Note:  Victor’s time  spent in Halifax was  disappointing. The \u201ctwo brands of beer<\/div>\n
tasted  more like  dishwater\u201d and finding females was nigh unto impossible<\/div>\n
as\u201dthey were gun-shy due to the constant flow  of  bodies passing them.\u201d<\/div>\n
After a week he shipped  out on the Queen  Elizabeth Steamship with<\/div>\n
12,000 other Canadians. \u201cWe were  jammed into staterooms, aisles, every<\/div>\n
part of the  ship.\u201d  No luxury.  \u201cMy bunk was on the  floor with three more on<\/div>\n
top of me.  The fourth person slept with his nose  touching the ceiling.\u201d<\/div>\n
there were chocolate bars available in he canteen  but the line ups were<\/div>\n
long.  The kitchens ran 24  hours a day.  Occasionally they sailed past<\/div>\n
cork life rafts that were empty.  This was sobering. Like floating coffins without<\/div>\n
the bodies. They Docked after four days <\/div>\n
at Grennock, Scotland then they were sent to Bournemouth for posting. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Note:  He arrived in England May  20, 1943 and returned  to Canada on July 17,1945 during <\/div>\n
that time he flew 49 hours and 45 minutes  on daylight bombing runs  and  42 hours<\/div>\n
and  35 minutes night bombing the last of  which  was May 27\/28, 1944 when<\/div>\n
HX  313 was shot down and Victor became a  Prisoner of War.  In short Victor <\/div>\n
spent 12 months in active service May, 1943 to May 1944. One year.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
He had one amusing comment about that year in England.<\/div>\n
\u201cI am Always hungry.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“On arrival in England Victor was assigned to #22 Operational  Training Unit (OTU) flying Wellington<\/div>\n
Bombers which were twin engined aircraft \u201cof Geodetic Construction mid-winged,<\/div>\n
70 foot wingspan, crew  of  5, sporting a Fraser back gun turret with four .303<\/div>\n
machine guns (Browning), also had  a front gun turret which Bombardier was<\/div>\n
resposilble for\u201d in event of  a frontal  attack by a night fighter \u2026 a rare occurrence.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Victor first crew was  Bill Tighe, a recently married Englishman. Bob Irwin<\/div>\n
(Navigator), Ken Sweatman (Bombardier), Wilf Wakely (wireless operator) and Victor Poppa<\/div>\n
himself (tail gunner). Wilf was experienced  having flown on 6 bombing missions one of<\/div>\n
which was the first 1,000 bomber raid on the Ruhr Valley \u201cwhich we named Happy <\/div>\n
Valley because  of the intense Flak, Searchlighs and  night fighters.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Wilf Wakely was the only survivor of a Handly Page bomber (Halifax?) so had<\/div>\n
experience  with parachute and escape  hatch.  Victor enjoyed the training flights and<\/div>\n
the  lectures.  One lecture  saved his life.  Ken Sweatman asked Victor<\/div>\n
to come to a presentation on photo flashes.  Later, Victor failed to properly address an<\/div>\n
officer and  was told as punishment to harmonize the guns on an aircraft being<\/div>\n
repaired.  Bombs had been unloaded safely it seemed.  So Victor paced off a <\/div>\n
target point behind the bomber, set up a harmonizing board, climbed the ladder<\/div>\n
into the bomber and began walking along the catwalk to the rear of the plane.<\/div>\n
His arm accidentally caught on the arming wire  for the photo flash and pulled out<\/div>\n
the pin. Time delay began  ticking. In seconds the photo flash would explode thereby<\/div>\n
detonating the other photo flashes  and then perhaps the whole bomb  load.<\/div>\n
The photo flash units were bombs themselves though. \u201cAt this point I had two<\/div>\n
choices either to remove the fuse  or jump out and run hoping I would be far <\/div>\n
enough away to survive the  blast.\u201d Victor knew all the ground crew would die so<\/div>\n
he decided to try and remove the fuse.  Success.  \u201cI descended  the ladder and<\/div>\n
told the armorer what happened.  He blanched\u2019 as I handed him the fuse.  If  I had not attended<\/div>\n
that lecture with Ken I would not be here today.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
While on training flights in England Victor had \u2018real fun\u2019 doing air to air firing from<\/div>\n
his Wellington gun turret and also \u201cwe used  camera guns against spitfires\u201d <\/div>\n
Then they practised  low  flying where Victor coaxed the pilot to get lower<\/div>\n
and  lower.  Ken Sweatman got worried  and reminded Victor that \u201cI am  a<\/div>\n
married  man as  is Bill\u201d All the same they did fly low  enough to touch the<\/div>\n
top of trees, buzz a train and fly through a quarry \u2018which was a near miss\u2019. When<\/div>\n
they to back from one practise run the ground crew pulled  branches  from<\/div>\n
the motors.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\"halifax.jpg\"<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“Night bombing was another matter\u2026more dangerous.   Initially we did<\/div>\n
circuits  and bumps in the dark\u2026i.e. takeoff and  landing.  Then cross country flights<\/div>\n
one of  which  created panic when a fire seemed  to happen just as  the plane<\/div>\n
was  on its final approach. \u201cBill said, \u2018I smell fire\u2019 Wilf fired a red  flare and we <\/div>\n
were cleared  to land.   Bill had not bothered lower the landing gear, flaps  were<\/div>\n
down.  Bill did a fancy  side slip but we hit the  air cushion between the airplane <\/div>\n
and the runway and  started  to slide, slide, slide\u202615 tons of  mass takes  a fair <\/div>\n
amount of  runway.  We skidded onto the grass as the tail swung around.  I felt<\/div>\n
like an anvil on a chain.  Our airplane did not burn, fortunately, I had trouble getting <\/div>\n
out of my turret as the hydraulic  lines locked once the motor stopped.  The <\/div>\n
Wellington was totalled\u2026ruined\u2026fuselage was  twisted and wing bent up, centre<\/div>\n
section spar twisted, propeller ruined, bomb bay a  mess and the bottom of the<\/div>\n
motors cylinders mashed.  We got out OK\u2026Bob our navigator cracked a couple<\/div>\n
of ribs.  Bill had his log book \u2018endorsed\u201d meaning his idea of a fire was  not quite<\/div>\n
valid.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
NOTE: Operational training was no piece of cake.  Victor estimated that about half<\/div>\n
of the dozen or so  crew  members he started with died before ever getting<\/div>\n
to fly a bombing run over Germany.   One crash must have made Victor and<\/div>\n
his crew feel really badly as they were partly responsible.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cThere were always bad crashes using those tired  old Wellingtons which<\/div>\n
were difficult to fly on one  motor. One night in our trading at #22 OTU we were<\/div>\n
 doing  takeoffs  and  landings and while taxiing down the runway Bill managed to get one <\/div>\n
wheel off the runway.  As we were trying to get our Wellington back onto the <\/div>\n
runway we heard over our raidio telephone another airplane talking to our tower.<\/div>\n
He said he had one engine out.  Tower asked if he could take one more circuit as<\/div>\n
we were stuck part way down  the runway.  the pilot said he  would give it a  try.<\/div>\n
He  did not make it.<\/div>\n
A few seconds later I could see a big flash of flame.  All aboard perished.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cThere was never any talk  about about all of the things happening but every day<\/div>\n
we  could see  stretchers leaning  against the hospital  wall with dark brown  stains<\/div>\n
from  bloodied bodies.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
NOTE: Victor was young, 22 years old, blessed with a feeling of immortality when he<\/div>\n
first arrived  in England.  At OTU that feeling diminished.  He kept a stiff  upper <\/div>\n
lip.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
NOTE:  English girls were great distractions for Victor and for many other airmen<\/div>\n
who tried to live their lives to fullest for they soon knew their days living<\/div>\n
on this earth were numbered.  So sex was an escape and a pleasure\u2026as Victor<\/div>\n
graphically describes. Each base provided a big box of condoms. \u201cWe  could take<\/div>\n
as many as we wanted and did so,\u201d said a friend of mine.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
NOTE:  Some  readers may find Victor\u2019s stories upsetting because  the sexual<\/div>\n
detail is a bIt rough.  Sorry about that.  These sexual exploits were part and<\/div>\n
parcel of bomber command experiences.  Some  are very humorous.  If you  find<\/div>\n
sex disturbing stop reading  now.  NOW!<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cWellesbourne  was my first real  opportunity to meet English  girls.  These girls<\/div>\n
were easy to get along with and very nice.  Wellesbourne sported  4 pubs.  We would<\/div>\n
start down  from 1 to 4 and then back  to #1.  There was a lot of just regular  sex<\/div>\n
with these girls.  With some there was a bit more than  that which  I remember with<\/div>\n
a smile.  This one girl was  about 5\u2019 6\u201d and well proportioned and would wait near a<\/div>\n
lane for her  prey.  You could do whatever you wanted providing  you were both<\/div>\n
standing  up.  One of her first words were \u2018you are raping  me you know\u2019 to which<\/div>\n
the response  was \u2018Uh! Huh\u2019 and kept proceeding. She  was my first experience with<\/div>\n
what was known as a \u2018knee shaker\u2019.  Later this same thing was done in telephone booths<\/div>\n
when it was raining.  It was fun if  a little strange.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAnother night I was  drinking my way  back to the base and I was well into my cups and<\/div>\n
using my bicycle for support.  This fellow I knew had two girls with him.  He said  \u2018Vic, I can\u2019t<\/div>\n
fuck  them both, do  you want one?’  Sure, I said,  I was given my choice.   My  friends<\/div>\n
choice of  words did  not upset the girls.  They were both attractive and eager to get <\/div>\n
on with it.   I got mine down the road apiece and over the hedge.  This time missionary<\/div>\n
fashion was great, especially  with one nice  buttock inch hand.  I finally got her  back over<\/div>\n
the hedge, kissed her  good night \u2026 mutual kiss back.  The next morning on my way to the <\/div>\n
mess hall, the back of my hands were very itchy and I had to scratch them.  After reflecting<\/div>\n
on the  problem a bit, I came to the realization that I had  deposited  my girl onto stinging<\/div>\n
nettles.  I\u2019ve often wondered how much scratching she had  to do  to her very nice  bottom?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Dances for airmen were<\/div>\n
a regular occurrence across England<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAnother high light was when one night a female Cabby offered to take two of us from<\/div>\n
our unit to Leamington Spa (about 20 miles from our base) for 10 shillings each.  We had her<\/div>\n
drop us off at the local once hall.  I  wasn\u2019t making  much headway until after God save the <\/div>\n
King was sung at the end of the evening..   While passing through the door I noticed this<\/div>\n
reasonably shaped female on my left.  I slipped my arm under hers and said \u2018Let\u2019s go to the <\/div>\n
park.\u2019  To which she  replied  \u2018The park\u2019s closed, let\u2019s go to my place.\u2019  We did not waste words.<\/div>\n
Thanks to the blackout my hands were busy. She said \u2018I\u2019m glad “.\u2019 \u2018Me too1\u2019<\/div>\n
I stayed with her all night.  When  we were really into it she said \u2018I don\u2019t care if have a baby\u2019\u2026<\/div>\n
I said \u2018Me, too!\u2019 and kept going.   She told me her name was the Honourable Olivia.  Olivia must<\/div>\n
have  been between  35 and 40 years old.  What a body?  and  good-looking.  I was 22 years<\/div>\n
old.  I awoke  at 6.45 a.m. and had 15 minutes to get to the base.    We were scheduled to fly<\/div>\n
at 8 a.m.   Olivia asked if I could make it on time.   I said sure , ‘I have  7 shillings which is<\/div>\n
more than enough for the bus.\u2019  Olivia insisted on giving  me a 1 pound note (worth about<\/div>\n
$4.50 Canadian)  I did not have time to argue.  From time to time I have nice thoughts <\/div>\n
about the Honourable Olivia.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
NOTE:  Victor\u2019s RCAF career\u2026would make a good movie.  I like to think that the Honourable<\/div>\n
Olivia really wanted a baby\u2026needed one for her biological clock was getting  past its  best <\/div>\n
before date.  Maybe her British  army husband had  been lost in the disastrous early months of the<\/div>\n
African campaign\u2026a side story.   Maybe  Victor really earned  that 1 pound note.<\/div>\n
But that is  just speculation\u2026fantasy.  Maybe.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FIRST  RAID:   BOMBING OF HAMBURG<\/div>\n
(SO intense that  the  streets  caught fire)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cOur Squadron Commander deemed us ready for combat on July 24, 1943.   Our target was<\/div>\n
Hamberg.  Mission Number One.  All of our training came to a head.<\/div>\n
At the briefing we were told we were  one of 800 airplanes to go  on this raid\u2026mixed bag or Wellingtons, <\/div>\n
Short Sterlngs, Halifaxes, Lancasters. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 Once  airborne  we each got busy with our own task.<\/div>\n
I loaded my four .303 Brownings and cocked each gun in the ready to fire position.  I then switched<\/div>\n
on my reflector sight and to my chagrin I discovered the bulb for the reflector sight refused to light up<\/div>\n
This was good cause to turn back but I voted to continue anyway and take  the  chance.  We were very <\/div>\n
naive at this juncture and it was almost our undoing.  However the gods were smiling upon us.<\/div>\n
We crossed the coast at Scarborough, heading for Heligoland where we met our  first baptism<\/div>\n
from “Flak\u201d (anti-aircraft shells).  We  were at 20,000 feet and passed over the German Flak ships<\/div>\n
without damage.   We then crossed the coast where the Elbe empties  into the North Sea heading <\/div>\n
inland to Hamberg. More Flak explosions around us.  I heard  the sharp crack from each<\/div>\n
shell and saw the black puffs of smoke. I knew we could be hit as the flak was  very close.  The plane bounced.<\/div>\n
We were being handed off from one flak battery to another en route to Hamberg.  Then there it<\/div>\n
was\u2026the city.  Well lit. Looking down I could make out the streets and see bursts from our bombs<\/div>\n
 exploding. Some aircraft carried  250, 500, 1000, 2000 and 4,000 pounders called \u2018cookies\u2019.  Others<\/div>\n
carried a mixed  bag\u2026some  of the above,  Magnesium bombs (400 to a canister) and last but<\/div>\n
not least, 35 point phosphorus bombs.  Phosphorus  was nasty\u2026it would stick to anything  including<\/div>\n
flesh.  There were 8 of these to a canister.  If phosphorus stuck to flesh, it began to burn and could only be put out by<\/div>\n
sand or water.  So people hit by phosphorus had to be submerged  in  water.  And had to stay in water  <\/div>\n
because the phosphorus  would begin to burn the moment a person left the water\u2026burns  in an<\/div>\n
oxygen atmosphere.  Phosphorus burning  people who jumped into water had to stay there.  After <\/div>\n
the  war I heard tht the German SS machine gunned their own people to put them out of their misery.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cThis raid  to Hamberg was also the first time we used a device  called \u2018window\u2019\u2026little pieces of foil. When cut to the <\/div>\n
correct wave length these strips would confuse German Radar.  Instead of picking up individual aircraft, German<\/div>\n
Radar  showed hundreds  thousands of  aircraft.   Our losses  this  night were nominal from the flak<\/div>\n
but that did not stop the night fighters.  A Junkers 88 crept up our tail and got within 100 feet  but was<\/div>\n
down lower\u2026about 25 feet lower so it remained very close.  Fortunately we were flying in a <\/div>\n
Wellington and from his position we could  have passed for a Ju 88 which has two motors and at night <\/div>\n
we must have made the Ju 88 pilot curious.  Were we an enemy or a friend?  First he put on a  big amber<\/div>\n
light then a smaller green light.  I said to Bill to start corkscrewing.  Bill\u2019s idea of  a corkscrew was not<\/div>\n
my idea  of a corkscrew.  The Ju 88 followed.  Then, just as we were about to start another<\/div>\n
corkscrew, the Ju 88 put on a red light, levelled off and was about to give ua everything he had.<\/div>\n
I Said \u2018Bill, 360 port, Go!\u2019  Bill slammed us into a 90 degree  bank to Port just as the Ju 88 opened  <\/div>\n
up.  Missed us by a split second and  at the same time  we lost him.  Our 360 degree turn was  right over <\/div>\n
the target and right in the middle  of our own  Bomber stream.  Talk about Russian Roulette.<\/div>\n
We still had our bombs aboard and Ken  then  let them all go.  Not safe yet.   We  shook off<\/div>\n
3 more German night fighters which  Bill handled OK.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
NOTE:           Victor Poppa believed  the German pilot of the attacking  JU 88 night fighter got a bit confused  since<\/div>\n
a the Wellington bomber and the Ju 88 looked similar as  you can see.  Victor\u2019s crew were lucky<\/div>\n
because  the Ju 88 delayed the attack giving the Wellington time to corkscrew and then dodge<\/div>\n
to Port side.   Rear gunners, like Victor, often played  major role in detecting night fighters coming<\/div>\n
from behind.  Some felt those Browning machine guns were useless.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\"\"<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Ju 88 German night fighter<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Wellington Bomber<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cThen  our intercom  went out and I couldn\u2019t get Bill.  I flashed my flashlight up the  fuselage,<\/div>\n
Wilf saw  my light and figured something  was amiss.   He  checked  around  and found<\/div>\n
he had accidentally disconnected the plug.  Then our wirelesses quit working.  All faults<\/div>\n
that could kill us.  Like I said the gods were smiling down  on us.  If  the intercom had gone<\/div>\n
out earlier, I would not be here today.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Note:  Victor and crew got back  to England without another crisis.  There were so many things<\/div>\n
that could go wrong on these fights.  Even the accidental disconnection of an electric  plug<\/div>\n
could spell disaster.   Tail gunners, many  of them, knew the Browning .303 machine guns<\/div>\n
were not very effective so they did not have itchy trigger fingers.  Better, they thought,<\/div>\n
was to act a spotters should an enemy  night fighter be attacking.  Alerting the pilot<\/div>\n
a top priority.  Firing the Brownings  was a  distant second.  Bursts  of machine gun<\/div>\n
fire  might just allow  an enemy night fighter to hone  in on an RCAF bomber.   Victor<\/div>\n
does  not seem to have total confidence in his pilot which is never a good  sign in<\/div>\n
a bomber crew.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cJuly 29,  1943, We were  sent out on a practice  bomb trip to Strensell for Ken\u2019s benefit.<\/div>\n
That evening  we were to go back to Hamburg for our second mission but this duty was<\/div>\n
not carried  out because our \u2018Gee\u2019 set would not function.  We got 5 degrees east and  Bob<\/div>\n
refused  to navigate.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 Note:  Abortng a mission was a serious  issue.  By  1943 most crews knew their chances<\/div>\n
of successfully completing 20 Bombing runs was slim.  Some crews seem to have looked<\/div>\n
for excuses.  Understandable for sure but not acceptable.  An aborted mission was<\/div>\n
always suspicious\u2026always investigated.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“A \u2018Gee\u2019 set not functioning was  a legitimate excuse to terminate a mission.  Bob  could<\/div>\n
navigate  without the \u2018Gee\u2019 but refused to do so.   Bob\u2019s nose could get hard at times.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cJULY 28, 1943, During the day we did an air test and that night were sent out on another <\/div>\n
cross country no doubt penance for Bob\u2019s refusal to fly without his \u2018Gee\u2019 set\/\u201c<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cJuly 29,  1943:  We were to got to Hamburg again.  Number 3 Mission.  We caught hell on<\/div>\n
this  one.  It was a hot summer day.  We  had a total  of 780 aircraft going.  As before mixed <\/div>\n
bag of airplanes.Gradually British production of 4 engined aircraft was  starting to replace<\/div>\n
the two  engined Wellingtons.  I’m not counting theShort Serling.  This airplane was a real<\/div>\n
dog.  Once loaded with bombs it could not get to 25,000 feet.  Later the Sterlings were<\/div>\n
given the  job of towing gliders exclusively.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cBill gave full power for take off with around 10 degrees of  flap.   when  we were over the <\/div>\n
trees at the end of the runway I could see the flaps creeping up on their own and we<\/div>\n
were starting to settle down to the tree tops, at this point as we were just<\/div>\n
skimming the treetops we started picking up more airspeed and slowly started<\/div>\n
to climb.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“During the war density of  air was  not known as a  factor in an  airplanes\u2019 ability to lift weight.  The hotter the air the higher <\/div>\n
the  airplane thinks it  is at, hence an airplane with ,say, an  ambient temperature of 115 degrees  might<\/div>\n
not get off the ground at all.  Now, say the temperature is 70 degrees  the airplanes\u2019 ability to life the same<\/div>\n
weight would be alright.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 “We followed similar course as we had on  our first trip\u2026via  Heligoland, the Elbe River to the target.  <\/div>\n
The flak was real close.  They had our altitude right on but we were  off our Port side by 200 feet.<\/div>\n
The Flak stayed with us  all the way to Hamburg with  continuous  explosions of  88mm shells.  Over<\/div>\n
the target was not much  better.We were briefly caught by  searchlights but shook them off.  Ken was<\/div>\n
getting the  bombs off and then he turned  to  get a  look as the  bombs were  released.  Lucky.  A chunk of<\/div>\n
flak from below  sent shrapnel through the perspex (plexiglass).  It struck exactly where his head had<\/div>\n
been a  moment earlier and continued  up through the instrument panel . Another piece went between<\/div>\n
Wilf and Bob and  back  into space.  Shortly thereafter another  shell burst above me and one piece went<\/div>\n
into our carburetor down into our supercharger and  we lost 500 rpm to our port Port motor and stayed<\/div>\n
that way for the rest of the trip.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The fires were fierce on the ground.  Detial of  city blocks burning were easy to see from our 20,000 feet<\/div>\n
altitude .  Bomb  flashes bursting  around the fires were also easy to see. The super race was  now gettng<\/div>\n
its\u2019 due.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“A master searchlight was coming up on our Port side. I  said to Bill to get ready to dive to port. \u2018Go, Bill, Go!\u2019<\/div>\n
and  Bill slammed the wheel left and  pushed down.  We shot through the light.  Ken said  \u2018Jeez\u2019 then I saw a<\/div>\n
this great big Halifax with the master searchlight and smaller searchlights exposing him to everything<\/div>\n
that could  shoot him down.  His  bomb bays were were open as he was letting his bomb  load go.  I could<\/div>\n
even see what kind  of load he had\u2026all one type of  4 pound magnesiums (144 to a canister) and  it <\/div>\n
seemed thousands were spilling out.  This  poor fellow had to continue flying straight and level for<\/div>\n
two minutes while his aircraft camera  took pictures of where his  load  had  landed.  Ken\u2019s  comment\u2026\u2019Geez\u2019<\/div>\n
was Ken\u2019s exclamation as we dove just in front of the Halifax I  just mentioned. That was real close.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Note:  I am not sure if the Halifax bomber Victor watched  was shot down or not.  Seems it was.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“Columns of smoke were higher than  our altitude of  20,000 feet. On our return to base and just as we crossed the English coast, <\/div>\n
looking back some 300 miles I could see Hamburg  burning.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“We were cleared to land.  As  we were crossing the runway  threshold I could see the fog following.  The poor devil <\/div>\n
coming in behind  us never made it and  I don\u2019t know  where he  went as fog was right down to the deck.<\/div>\n
When we  reached the  far end of the runway and  were now on the taxiway, there was a person trying to signal Bill<\/div>\n
instructions.  Bill could not make him out.  So I  said \u2018Bill, I\u2019ll jump out and  get his instructions.\u2019  This I did.  I used<\/div>\n
to wear my parachute tight.  As  a  result when  walking I was stooped down slightly.  Lucky.  Anyway I was<\/div>\n
starting to jog back to the man on the taxiway.  I stopped. And  noticed  the man was pointing his finger upwards.   <\/div>\n
Turned and  looked up and here was  our port side propeller going \u2018Tick\u2026Tick\u2026Tick\u2019.  One more step and  I<\/div>\n
would  have been  beheaded.  I stooped  clear, gave a thumbs up thank you and climbed<\/div>\n
back into my turret.  I have  often wondered  why I stopped that moment\u2026was it mental telepathy that<\/div>\n
said  \u2018Stop and  look at the man on the  ground\u2019? His  mind must have been screaming at me.  After I plugged<\/div>\n
into the intercom I said, \u2018Bill, why didn\u2019t you shut down the  power on the left Port Engine, when you saw what<\/div>\n
was about to happen?\u201d, Bill said \u201cVic,  I was petrified!\u201d.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
We parked the  Wellington \u201cJ\u201d HF 541, went to the debriefing and had breakfast.   This was our third mission to Hamburg<\/div>\n
anti tiook 6 hours and10 minutes.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
On August 2, 1943 we were again selected to go to Hamburg\u2026fourth mission. The  weather was not the greatest. In fact<\/div>\n
was so vicious that more than  half  our squadron turned back.  However, since we lost mission #2 we  decided to see<\/div>\n
it through.  Once we crossed the enemy coast the flak followed us all the way to Hamburg.  We plowed through numerous<\/div>\n
cumulonimbus (word?) clouds with up and down drafts where thunder,  lightning , wing icing,  St. Elmo\u2019s fire, cloud<\/div>\n
cover was  about 10\/10ths .  Hamburg was still burning from our previous fires.  We could see  the glow  of the fires<\/div>\n
through the clouds.  We found a small hole in the clouds  and Ken satisfied himself that we were over Hamburg and<\/div>\n
then he let our bombs.  We returned to base by another route avoiding  the Flak.  Once landed we were debriefed<\/div>\n
as usual.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“Photos showed that we laid waste to nine square miles.   In addition to our four raids the American 8th air force<\/div>\n
(USAAF)  pasted Hamburg with daylight raids.  The american effort was modest in numbers. Approximately 75<\/div>\n
B 17 Flying  Fortress aircraft.  This was the USAAF first taste of deep  penetration raids into Germany.  The fires<\/div>\n
in Hamburg were so intense that the asphalt on the streets flowed like lava\u2026a fire storm so intense that the<\/div>\n
oxygen was consumed and people suffocated in their air raid shelters. There  was  no respite.  People rebelled.<\/div>\n
Where possible some people began  looting but that was difficult for the wind created by the fire storm was hurricane<\/div>\n
force.  Apparently there was  terror everywhere.  From our altitude we did  not see all this  misery.  Better them<\/div>\n
than us I suppose.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“Back  home  we  went to breakfast and with no sleep we reported to our respective flight authorities to see<\/div>\n
if anything was on and, sure enough,  we were posted on battle  orders.  This was to be mission #5, August 3,<\/div>\n
1943.  As tired as we were the  ground  crew got pre-flight preparation underway on our  Wellington.  Lunch<\/div>\n
time came and went.  As usual we had the gut wrenching feelings.  The possibility of death being  foremost.<\/div>\n
The feelings are never any different\u2026they  tore us apart but as the acton increases a calmness descends.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“This time we are using Wellington \u201cP\u201d LN 448.  Dinner time arrives \u2026the only time in the squadron that <\/div>\n
we ever received  bacon  and eggs.  Sort of last meal kind of  feeling.  Like  the hangman is ready  to<\/div>\n
trip the trap. Then comes briefing time and  we  then find out where we are to go.  A one  aircraft mission.<\/div>\n
Unusual.  We  are expected to fly into the Bay of  Biscay targeting the harbour of  St. Nazere on the west<\/div>\n
coast of France where  the Germans have  submarine pens and other types  of shipping.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“Five aircraft from other squadrons  are to go elsewhere into \u2018Festung Europe\u2019 so that is all the enemy had to<\/div>\n
contend with tonight.  Our orders were to cross  the French coast at approximately 13,000 feet and gradually<\/div>\n
drop altitude until we were in a  position to make our run.  Our attack altitude must not be no greater  than<\/div>\n
100 feet.  We had to make a visual sighting of  a particular island and from this visual start a timed run towards<\/div>\n
the harbour and  after an exact number of seconds drop our two 1500 pound  mines.  All of  this precaution was <\/div>\n
necessary as the mines were a very secret kind and our side did not wish the Germans to know their intended use.<\/div>\n
  So far everything was going fine, however, we were in fog at 100 feet.  Hopefully Bill was<\/div>\n
reading  the altimeter for our briefing had stressed forcefully that we \u2018must\u2019 make  our attack at exactly 100 feet.<\/div>\n
Bob was getting excellent \u2018Gee\u2019 flashes and said <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u2018Vic,  stand  up in your turret and  look down, we are just about over the<\/div>\n
island\u2026we must have a visual of the island, if not, then we  have to take our mines  home!’<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u2018Coming, coming, Now!\u2019<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“No visual for me.  Because of the fog, I could not see the  island.  Instead I got a burst of shells<\/div>\n
from  a  20  mm Quad.   The quad gunner missed my face by 20 or 30 feet.  Close\u2026Real close.<\/div>\n
So close  that it was easy to see the caliber and there were enough tracer shells to see how<\/div>\n
close his aim was to our airplane\u2019s centre line.  The German had our airplane  right on.  Had he<\/div>\n
pulled the trigger a split second sooner he would\u2019ve parted our Wellington into two  distinct parts<\/div>\n
right at the centre line.  The gunner probably picked up our red exhaust stacks and the noise<\/div>\n
from  our motors.   He likely even had time to set his guns vertical and  just wait for us to pass over.  <\/div>\n
It was that easy for him.  The gods again smiled on us. We  did not get our visual therefore<\/div>\n
our mines were not dropped.  No point in doing a second run because  the  fog was very thick.<\/div>\n
And, had we tried, we would have been hit by  that gunner and  20 mm Quad. We crossed  the<\/div>\n
French  coast  in a climb and then  back across the English Channel to our base.  The armourers<\/div>\n
then were obliged remove the mines.  This  mission lasted 6 ours and 20 minutes.<\/div>\n
 <\/div>\n
“August 5, 1943.  We are to go out again so  we went through our usual routine.  At briefing<\/div>\n
we  were to go to the Ruhr Valley.  I do not remember the intended  target by name.  It was  a<\/div>\n
bayonet factory which employed 50 people.  The buildings  all around the factory were hospitals<\/div>\n
where thousands  of  injured from Hamburg were taken and others from  previous  air raids.<\/div>\n
It was  in fact a hospital town.  We  were sending 600 bombers to get the bayonet factory and  its 50 employees<\/div>\n
and in the process  wipe out the whole town. “After the briefing our C.O.  said it was  quote, \u2018O.K.\u2019<\/div>\n
if we emptied the hospitals.  I  felt real squishy in the  stomach.  Not the usual nervousness preceding<\/div>\n
a mission.  I did not like  the idea of  hitting  hospitals.   Our aircraft was bombed  up anyway and<\/div>\n
just as we were taxiing for take  off a red flare  was fired.  The mission was scratched and  I think<\/div>\n
everyone  was relieved.  Getting Krauts one way was fine with me but not by deliberately hitting hospitals.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
“Sir Arthur  Harris was chief of Bomber Command and  fondly called  \u2018Butcher Harris\u2019 by Bomber<\/div>\n
command aircrews.  This mission to the Ruhr could  technically  have called  a  war crime.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Note:  Much  has been written  about Sir Arthur Harris and  the carpet bombing  of German <\/div>\n
cities.  He was  never dissuaded by critics.   Did Harris know about the huge number of<\/div>\n
German civilians were killed in his thousand  bomber raids?  He seems to have known.  One day<\/div>\n
he was stopped for speeding in England.  The police officer asked  \u2018Do you  want to kill<\/div>\n
somebody?  To which Harris  responded \u2018That\u2019s my job to kill people.\u2019  After the war, when<\/div>\n
the massive devastation of German cities was seen by Allied  troops there were second<\/div>\n
thoughts  about the actions of  Bomber Command.  This  \u2018after the  fact\u2019 criticism hurt the<\/div>\n
feelings  of  Allied Bomber Command aircrews.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAugust 6, 1943,   During the day we flew  Wellington \u201cW\u201d HE82 for an air test  then in the<\/div>\n
evening we were ordered go up on our third command  Bullseye and cross country flight<\/div>\n
which  was a test of British  air defences\u2026searchlights and  night  fighters. We  were coned<\/div>\n
by shearchlights and  supposedly shot down by a  Bristol Beaufighter (2 motor kind).  It\u2019s a good<\/div>\n
thing all was fun and games. This flight took  4hours  and 45 minutes.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
August 13,  1943:Our squadron (427) was moved from Eastmoor to Leeming, a peace time<\/div>\n
air field in Yorkshire with permanent buildings.  The really big news today is that our  crew<\/div>\n
is going to switch from 2 motored Wellingtons to 4 engined  Halifax’s<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
AM  I GOING TO SURVIVE?<\/div>\n
(The  thought that ran  through every airman\u2019s mind)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The odds were against survival.  Young airmen came to that conclusion early in the career.  No doubt many <\/div>\n
joined  the RCAF because it sounded  exciting.  To fly.  Each person on an aircrew was expected to complete<\/div>\n
a tour of 30 flights  over enemy territory.  Only 16% managed to reach this goal.  Some of these airmen<\/div>\n
even continued  to fly, i.e. more than 30 flights,  in spite of the long odds against them. <\/div>\n
 Most, like  my cousin George Freeman,<\/div>\n
looked forward to completing 30 and retiring from active  bombing.  George Freeman even volunteered  and<\/div>\n
joined extra  crews  to get the 30 missions completed  as  he planned  to marry if  he survived.  He did not<\/div>\n
make it as HX 313 was shot down May 27\/28 1944 and  he was likely  killed  in his upper  turret bubble.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
In the big picture there were 120,000 members of  the Allied  Bomber Command of<\/div>\n
which  55,573 died.   Of these deaths,  9,919 were Canadians, a death rate that <\/div>\n
was  very high for a country with a small population like Canada.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
  Statistically that meant that a  member of RACAF  Bomber<\/div>\n
Command in a Halifax bomber only had a 17.3% chance of  survival.*<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Perhaps  the darkest way to explain what happened to these young  men is to consider it this way.<\/div>\n
For every 100 men in Bomber Command 45 were killed, 6 were badly hurt, 8 became Prisoners of War and<\/div>\n
41 returned to Canada with no visible scars.  That does not include the mental  scars which for many<\/div>\n
were deep  and long lasting.  And that is perhaps  why few  airmen wanted to talk about their experiences.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
END PART 1<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
NOTE:  THIS  IS PART 1 OF THE VICTOR POPPA  JOURNAL\/DIARY WHICH HE ENTRUSTED TO ME<\/div>\n
BACK  IN THE  1980\u2019S.   PAGES  1 TO 29.   AN EARLIER EXCERPT WAS TITLED  \u2018THE LAST FLIGHT<\/div>\n
OF HX  313\u2019\u2026A FOUR ENGINED HALIFAX BOMBER.  I HOPE VICTOR\u2019S  SEXUAL  EXPLOITS IN THIS<\/div>\n
FIRST PART OF  THE STORY ARE READ  WITH AMUSEMENT RATHER THAN DISGUST.  IT IS  IMPORTANT<\/div>\n
TO REMEMBER THAT RCAF AIR CREWS WERE  AWARE THAT THEIR  LIVES COULD BE  TERMINATED<\/div>\n
AT ANY MOMENT.  THE GIRLS THEY MET KNEW THAT AND MANY  OF THOSE GIRLS  KNEW THAT<\/div>\n
THEIR LIVES HAD SUDDENLY BEEN CHANGED FOREVER.<\/div>\n

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THE MARCH<\/h5>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\"March<\/div>\n
\"March<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Nothing in Shakespeare could match the impact of the short speech delivered in the middle of the second act of “You Can’t Take It With You” at the South Compound Theater on the night of January 27, 1945. Making an unscripted entrance, Col. Charles G. Goodrich, the senior American officer, strode center stage and announced, “The Goons have just given us 30 minutes to be at the front gate! Get your stuff together and line up!”<\/p>\n

At his 4:30 staff meeting in Berlin that very afternoon, Adolf Hitler had issued the order to evacuate Stalag Luft III. He was fearful that the 11,000 Allied airmen in the camp would be liberated by the Russians. Hitler wanted to keep them as hostages. A spearhead of Soviet Marshal Ivan Konev’s Southern Army had already pierced to within 20 kilometers of the camp.<\/p>\n

In the barracks following Colonel Goodrich’s dramatic announcement, there was a frenzy of preparation — of improvised packsacks being loaded with essentials, distribution of stashed food, and of putting on layers of clothing against the Silesian winter.<\/p>\n

As the men lined up outside their blocks, snow covered the ground six inches deep and was still falling. Guards with sentinel dogs herded them through the main gate. Outside the wire, Kriegies waited and were counted, and waited again for two hours as the icy winds penetrated their multilayered clothes and froze stiff the shoes on their feet. Finally, the South Camp moved out about midnight.<\/p>\n

Out front, the 2,000 men of the South Camp were pushed to their limits and beyond, to clear the road for the 8,000 behind them. Hour after hour, they plodded through the blackness of night, a blizzard swirling around them, winds driving near-zero temperatures.<\/p>\n

At 2:00 a.m. on January 29, they stumbled into Muskau and found shelter on the floor of a tile factory. They stayed there for 30 hours before making the 15.5-mile march to Spremberg, where they were jammed into boxcars recently used for livestock. With 50 to 60 men in a car designed to hold 40, the only way one could sit was in a line with others, toboggan-fashion, or else half stood while the other half sat. It was a 3-day ordeal, locked in a moving cell becoming increasingly fetid with the stench of vomit and excrement. The only ventilation in the cars came from two small windows near the ceiling on opposite ends of the cars. The train lumbered through a frozen countryside and bombed-out cities.<\/p>\n

Along the way, Colonel Goodrich passed the word authorizing escape attempts. In all, some 32 men felt in good enough condition to make the try. In 36 hours, all had been recaptured.<\/p>\n

The boxcar doors were finally opened at Moosburg and the Kriegies from the South and Center Compounds were marched into Stalag VIIA.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
MOOSBURG – Stalag VIIA<\/h5>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\"MOOSBURG\"<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
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Stalag VIIA was a disaster. It was a nest of small compounds separated by barbed wire fences enclosing old, dilapidated barracks crammed closely together. Reportedly, the camp had been built to hold 14,000 French prisoners. In the end, 130,000 POWs of all nationalities and ranks were confined in the area. In some compounds the barracks were empty shells with dirt floors. In others, barracks consisted of two wooden buildings abutting a masonry washroom with a few cold-water faucets. Wooden bunks were joined together into blocks of 12, a method of cramming 500 men into a building originally intended for an uncomfortable 200. All buildings were hopelessly infested with vermin. As spring came to Bavaria, some of the more enterprising Kriegies moved out of the barracks into tents that had been erected to accommodate the stream of newcomers still coming in from other evacuated stalags. Some men chose to sleep on the ground, setting up quarters in air raid slit trenches. The camp resembled a giant hobo village.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

EPISODE 910      REMEMBRANCE DAY 2032 \u2014 LAST FIGHT OF HX 313 \u2014 WHO COULD FORGET VICTOR POPPA? alan skeoch Nov. 11, 2023 Victor Poppa touched my life.  And, yes, I do remember him.  Readers may find this Episode too long for casual reading.   I understand.  The story is  a living story even […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-25757","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25757","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=25757"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25757\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=25757"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=25757"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=25757"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}