OXBOXES OVER THE PRAIRIES
This past summer, while researching images of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan operations at No. 36 Service Flying Training School at Penhold, Alberta, I went to one of the greatest and least likely sources of photographic historical records—the photo/social media site known as Flickr. It is here, more often these days than “official” sources like a country’s national archives, that I have found a deep well of personal photos from veterans of the Second World War. In Flickr and other sites like it, the loving sons and daughters of airmen of the war have scanned their father’s albums and created virtual albums, sharing them with anyone who is interested. Thanks to Flickr and its kin, vast numbers of previously unseen personal images of life in the war-torn world of the early 1940s are now available.
These images help us see, feel and understand what life for the ordinary airman was like in this period. In searching for Penhold photos, I came across three albums of varying sizes. There was a huge collection of images from an Australian airman who was part of the last SFTS course at the RAF’s Penhold facility. There was another large collection of images from a young Scotsman who served as an Airspeed Oxford mechanic there in the middle of the war. And there was a small album from a Canadian airman who passed through there in 1942. Together these images show us that Penhold was a busy base, where students loved flying in the vast Alberta prairie and challenging Rockies.
Penhold, being a Service Flying Training School of the RAF, operated Airspeed Oxford aircraft of the RAF, shipped over from England and assembled in Canada. The Oxford, nicknamed the ‘Oxbox’, was used to prepare complete aircrews for RAF’s Bomber Command and as such could simultaneously train pilots, navigators, bomb aimers, gunners, or radio operators on the same flight. In addition to training duties, Oxfords were used in communications and anti-submarine roles and as ambulances in the Middle East. The Oxford was the preferred trainer for the Empire Air Training Scheme (EATS) and British Commonwealth Air Training Plan (BCATP) which sent thousands of potential aircrew to Canada for training.
Although the Oxford was equipped with fixed-pitch wooden, or Fairey-Reed metal propellers, the cockpit contained a propeller pitch lever which had to be moved from “Coarse” to “Fine” for landing. This was done to reinforce this important step for training pilots. Oxfords continued to serve the Royal Air Force as trainers and light transports until the last was withdrawn from service in 1956. Some were sold for use by overseas air arms, including the Royal Belgian Air Force.
The Penhold Album of Flying Officer Ray Morgan
The first and most extensive collection that I came across on Flickr was that of Australian Lee Morgan, who scanned the photographs from his father’s personal albums as a tribute to his father, Flying Officer Ray Morgan RAAF (439600). The images provide spectacular insights into the many aspects of life on an RAF-run Service Flying Training School—the Oxford aircraft in detail, formation and cross-country flying, the horrific crashes, the daily sporting life, celebrations and what the men did on leave.
In particular, the images of large formations of Airspeed Oxfords flying over recognizable geographical locales throughout western Alberta and the Rockies show us that not much has changed. Vintage Wings aircraft and our pilots still regularly operate in these regions in British Commonwealth Air Training Plan aircraft.
Today, thanks to Vintage Wings of Canada’s western cadre, farmers and tourists alike can, from time to time, look up and see a single yellow trainer lumbering through the skies of God’s Country. But back in 1944, when Ray Morgan and his mates from Down Under were in the area, the sky was yellow with gaggles of thundering twin-engine Airspeed Oxfords, rising and falling in harmony, piloted by the best young men from the antipodes. There is no doubt that these sights were so common back then that Albertan cowboys probably did not even look up when a dozen Airspeed Oxfords and their 24 roaring Cheetah engines shook the landscape from horizon to horizon.
Thanks to social media sites like Flickr, these amazing personal images from one man’s weathered album can help a thousand people of today better understand the conditions, joys, terrors and accomplishments of our young men more than 70 years ago. I hope that in the years ahead, I will begin to see more and more of these postings on Flickr and other sites. With national institutions like the National Library and Archives of Canada facing cutbacks and losing a grip on the time-honoured practice of recording history in all its minutia, perhaps the true repository for history will be social media in the years ahead. For certain, it is the pride and work of the sons and daughters of these men, who now have access to this form of repository, which will keep these stories and images alive. As never before, these images may now see the light of day, for in years gone by, written and visual records such as these, if they were collected at all by our institutions, would disappear into the hermetically sealed and temperature controlled vaults, accessible with considerable effort to only qualified individuals. I thank social media for doing the job our governments no longer deem critical enough to do.
So, enough complaining! Let’s take a look at these three albums starting with Ray Morgan, Royal Australian Air Force.
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The Penhold Album of Aircraftman First Class Alexander Cunningham
Young Alexander Cunningham served with the Royal Air Force from 1940 to 1946 as an aircraft mechanic. As such, he was sent the long way to Canada to serve at RAF-run flying schools of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, including No. 36 Service Flying Training School at Penhold. At various times from the autumn of 1941 to the spring of 1943, Cunningham was based at Gananoque, Ontario, a relief landing field for No. 34 SFTS Kingston, Ontario and at Big Bend Airfield at Penhold, Alberta.
The young mechanic suffered a head injury when an escape hatchet, which was strapped to the outside of an aircraft, broke loose and struck him. Cunningham spent several weeks in hospital before he was invalided home, this time to Liverpool, England.
After his recuperation Cunningham served with a salvage and repair crew on Scotland’s Solway coast, dealing mostly with flying boats in Wig Bay and land-based aircraft at Castle Kennedy, until he was demobilized in 1946. Cunningham liked what he had learned in the RAF, so after the war, he practiced as civilian aircraft engineer with various companies and took a jet conversion course in 1963. He retired from aviation in 1982 after 40 years in the business, and died in 2004 at the age of 85.
In writing and publishing this story about Penhold and Oxfords and Innisfail and the power of the internet to connect us and keep history alive, I received an email from one of our readers, a Hubert “Hu” Filleul, who, back in the time of No. 36 SFTS, was a teenager in the small town of Innisfail. He sends us this short memoir of life for a young boy in a small town with a big impact from the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan. Hu writes:
“I attended Innisfail high school during those years so your story about Penhold and Bowden brings back personal memories. Regrettably I do not have any photos of the three airfields around Innisfail.
As a member of the Innisfail Air Cadets, we often went to Penhold (about 11 miles north) where some poor English Corporal was put in charge of us. They had us washing the Airspeed Oxfords and we also got to sit in them. One day there was a pack on the right hand pilot seat so I grabbed it by the handle to move it out of the way. A billow of silk demonstrated that the pack was a parachute. We rapidly made ourselves scarce and my sin was never discovered.
I was also a friend of Allan Anderson, the undertaker’s son in Innisfail, so helped him move some of the bodies that came in from Bowden Tiger Moth trainer crashes. I believe that there are 13 graves in the Innisfail cemetery, of airmen killed during the relatively brief time that Bowden was open. Such a huge EFTS accident rate would not be tolerated these days. The undertaker’s wife, Martha Anderson made the effort to send photos of the graves along with a letter to each family of the deceased. I suppose we were one of the small Canadian towns that was impacted quite a bit by the war. One of the airmen killed was a Squadron Leader Procter, who was the Chief Flying Instructor, I believe. He had managed to move his family from England to a house in Innisfail, which made the tragedy all the sadder. As they went straight into the ground, the story was that he took up a borderline student for a check ride and the student froze on the stick.
The town of Innisfail only had a population of about 1,000 so the few single women and girls were very popular with the 1,400 airmen stationed around us. Even though they were our allies, we teenage boys did not take the RAF airmen’s attentions kindly. They moved in two Mounties, Buzz Rivet and Gus Spohr, to impose law and order. They were smart policemen that did their job largely without making arrests or requiring court action. Under the guidance of Buzz, I got to be President of the “Teen Town” club (part of the ongoing effort to keep us out of trouble). Innisfail and Bowden EFTS also organized weekly exchanges where Innisfail would host the dance one Saturday night in the Armouries and Bowden would host it the alternate Saturday in their drill hall. This worked out very well as both boys and girls were made welcome at Bowden. It so happened that the local shoemaker, Mr. Tedeshini, (can’t remember his first name, probably because I always called him “Mr.”) was a trained bandmaster so we had an accomplished high school dance band that played regularly in the Armouries. Bowden had a cool English dance band of its own.
There was an RAF Wing Commander named Bristow (I think I remember) who was the CO at Bowden. He and his wife had managed to rent a farmhouse that was quite primitive. They invited several local couples including my parents for New Year’s dinner (1943?) The CO’s wife had cooked a goose that she thought was already stuffed but it wasn’t cleaned. My parents said that the drinks and hospitality made up for the goose disaste
The Innisfail satellite airfield was farther away than Bowden’s four miles, as it was six miles west, past the Red Deer River.
I joined the RCAF in December 1950, flew on the Korean Airlift as a Radio Officer, and spent a total of 35 years with DND.”
The Penhold Album of Robert Wellington Barnes, RCAF
Robert Barnes, a native of Ottawa, Ontario, first enrolled in the Canadian Army in 1938 after being initially turned down by the RCAF. But by 1941, he transferred out of the Army and into the RCAF. His Initial Training School (ITS) was at Edmonton which, under the name of No. 4 ITS, was situated in the Edmonton Normal School (Teachers College). He went on to EFTS at Neepewa, Manitoba in the winter of 1941–42, and then on to Penhold for training on the Airspeed Oxford. His later career included Lancaster operations with 419 Squadron RCAF. Barnes’ photo album is thin with photos of Oxford operations while he was there, but there are a few images of an Oxford accident that are compelling as well as images of his early training.
Robert Barnes died in Ottawa in November 2002 at the age of 82.
The author would like to thank Lee Morgan, Alex Cunningham and Catherine Barnes for sharing the images of the fathers they loved so dearly. You are the archivists of the future, keeping the past alive and accessible today.