Nancy Campbell

It was during training that my posting would be the west coast of Canada, that only fighter ops [operations] women were needed overseas at that time. Posted to Sea Island, [British Columbia], Vancouver Operations Room (that was the one that was down in the cellar), later to Patricia Bay, [known locally as Pat Bay] the only operational station on the west coast, on shift as usual. You were always on shift in that job. Shift hours in the ops room: days, dogwatch and graveyard. And let me tell you, graveyard was something else. Oh my goodness. You know, I can still smell what it smelled like in the middle of the night. It never leaves you. I can smell it, especially in the underground in Vancouver. Early one summer morning in 1944, I rushed a message off the Teletype [a device for transmitting telegraph messages as they are keyed, and for printing messages received] to our controller, quote, “Two unidentified vessels off the coast (by radar).” I’d never seen anyone turn green, but I did then. I see him sitting there as I stood beside him and handed this and his face went to a very white to a green. Considering, you know, that we were in a warmer climate and everything, he just had sort of a pasty face, but he remained green all day and I wondered why he didn’t pass out. He was scared to death. Anyway, this is how that day went and it was very interesting, too. The whole station put on alert, of course, all leaves cancelled, on our toes every moment. Late afternoon, “all clear.” They were fishing vessels, two fishing vessels, not Japanese submarines. It was a frightening day because we were right there on the outer part of the island. I don’t know how close they were or anything else, only what our Teletype said, as I told you. Off the coast, latitude and longitude, I have no idea, but they must have been pretty close. And it was like our warning, but I will never forget handing him that, and so forth, you know. Ops women had one privilege. We were the only women allowed to fly our glad-to-help pilots, on searches, night navigations and practice flights, plus fun flights on our off days. My log books showed quite a few hours. At that point I was 21, and the pilot insisted I fly with him while he practised what was called “circuits and bumps” [a training manoeuvre which involves landing and taking off again without coming to a full stop] over in Vancouver at Sea Island. And so, I had had to go over to get some things I had left in Vancouver for a long time, and I had to pick them up. And so I was allowed to go over there and take that time, but I had to get back or I would have been AWOL [absent without leave]. I would have been out of my time. So the only way to get back was with this pilot. He said, sure, I’ll take you back, but you’ve got to fly with me all evening. And so we did, right through till dark and I remember he insisted on having the windows open. It was in a harbour as far as I remember, and the windows open, so all I had was Kleenex [tissue] to put in my ears for somebody that has acute hearing, and always has had. And it was dreadful. And so finally, he landed and we took off again, but he forgot to refuel. I think he had been drinking, I really do. Maybe I shouldn’t say that but, big question mark! So there was Flying Officer Brown was the navigator was with us. So we picked him up at the circuits and bumps. The Flying Officer Brown joined us and we took off. And I was sitting in the navigator’s seat and the pilot and the Flying Officer Brown, was the navigator, was sitting with him. The cockpit door opened at one point and I saw the Flying Officer Brown walking toward me and he had sort of a worried look on his face. I had to say this because I don’t know whether it was genuine or not. I don’t know whether this was a bet, but the man’s face looked worried. He came to me and shouted, let me help you with your parachute. It weighed 60 pounds. He picked it up and put it down and said, sit on it. And I remember folding my skirt because I was wearing my uniform, and folding my skirt across, I had to stand and he had to strap that parachute on me because it was on the back of you. So then he sat me down again and shouted, when you see me open the door of the cockpit, stand and walk as best you can, shouting at me, to the door. So, yes, sir, I said, and sat down. So I sat there, and this is the funny thing that happened, he shouted at me, we don’t see the landing lights. So this is why he put the parachute on me. In other words, we could run, we were running out of fuel, and so it was, he had forgotten to refuel and so, running out of fuel, there was the danger of going down in the ocean. See, we were over the ocean, I forgot to tell you that. But naturally we were, because we had flown from the Sea Island and were going over to the island on Pat Bay where our station was. As I was sitting there I could see the lights in the cabin, my face and everything, like a mirror, in the window. And I turned and looked at it and I thought, it is too bad I’m dying because I haven’t really started to live yet. I remember thinking that. In other words, thy will be done, but I haven’t even started to live yet. So the next thing I know, the door again opens and I stand immediately and I waddle as best as I can toward the door but as I’m turning to go to the door which is only about, a very few feet, then he shouts, it’s all right. We see the landing lights. I don’t remember how I felt or what I did then, I guess I was kind of frozen and then all I remember is this: we landed at Pat Bay and the pilot, they opened the door, the plane door and they each slipped down and then they reached up, each one with an arm on each side and lifted me down. And it was then I started to shake. I did not want to show them that I was frightened. If it had been a bet, most of all I didn’t want to show them that I was frightened, but the point was, apparently I guess it‘s a natural thing – once you know you are okay, you start to go, knees knocking. And so they lifted me to the ground, one arm on each side, took me to the Jeep, put me in it, drove me back to barracks, said, good night, dear woman. And I said, good night, sirs, and went in. And it was just really the most scary time, I think.