The following article is from RCAF Radar 1941-1945 (Royal Canadian Air Force Personnel on Radar in Canada During World War II) and is used with permission of the author, WW McLachlan
The Cape Bauld Explorer was a souvenir paper of a Christmas spent in isolation at Cape Bauld. An editorial was dedicated to all, each officer, NCO and airman - without whose co-operation and willingness to work, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable difficulties, the efficient operation of this station would have been an impossibility. At times it seemed as if the very element were in league against you, but work went on as usual.
"Yes fellows, each one of you has an important job to do. Your trade? That doesn't matter. Each one of you is a vital part of a precision instrument - the moment one little part goes out of gear the whole works will be shot to hell. To date you have done a mighty fine job in a most wholesome spirit."
A communication from the Chief of the Air Staff, passed through Eastern Air Command, was received at this unit, reading as follows:
"Through the Air Officer Commanding Eastern Air Command, the Chief of the Air Staff has directed that all personnel taking part in the establishment of Cape Bauld Detachment be commended for their efficient work, which resulted in the completion of the base so expeditiously in spite of difficult conditions."
This shaft of encouragement from Air Force Headquarters has pierced the isolation gloom associated with detachments of this nature, and has had a remarkable effect upon the morale of this unit. For this recognition we are very grateful, for it is indeed something the memory of which will be carried back to civilian life by each one of us.
During our stay at No. 30 RD we experienced the task of hauling material from the landing. It was done by manpower, probably fifty men hauling ropes attached to items such as diesel generators, the material was hauled over rocks, up slippery slopes and over dry ground to its resting place in the generating building which was built around the diesels later. We hauled our WW 1 gun, (12-pounder), to a commanding point on a high spot. There were several gun crews comprised of a commander, a shell obtainer, a nose-cap remover, a shell breacher and one who sat on the firing seat and pulled the cord to fire. He would ride the gun as the shell was launched. This was our great protector against submarines which were all around us. We also carried our .303 rifles everywhere and took our turn on sentry duty which meant two hours on with orders to fire if we were sure the object was an intruder - landing on a rubber boat from a sub. We were also told not to fire unless the reason was real, as this would wake the camp and those sleeping required their rest to perform their daylight tasks.
We had no power for some weeks until the pole lines were installed; the diesel's fired-up; the transformers installed and the buildings wired. We worked from daylight till dark. We did not have a canteen of any sort - no chocolate bars, beer or spirits. The only extras were those which we arrived with or received by mail.
The days were very busy with different crews, one crew worked on the radar site buildings and equipment, another building the cook house, the officers quarters, the so called recreation hall, nissen huts. We all had our guard duty to perform and some gun-crew practice. Guard duty was a two hour stint with a loaded 303 with orders to shoot first and ask questions after, but don't shoot unless you are sure it is an intruder, because to waken the tired men on a false alarm would not be received kindly. Our defence, the WW1 16 pounder, was situated on a high spot overlooking the cove and had two gun crews, each crew comprised of a commander, a shell obtainer who then handed the shell to one who unscrewed the nose cap, exposing the contact tip, then another man loaded the shell carefully into the breach. When the commander had sighted and elevated the gun, the command to Fire was given and the man on the carriage would pull the trigger and ride the carriage. This was our great protector against submarines, which in 1942 were numerous in the Atlantic.
The task of unloading heavy materials off the boats was no mean feat, Diesel electric sets were lowered onto two fishing boats, which were lashed together, they in turn were unloaded at the landing and hence hauled over the rocks by local Newfoundlanders and all hands, up the slope to the diesel establishment, where they were placed and bolted on their bases. After the three electric units were in place, the building was completed.
We constructed an un-heated one holer, which with the crowd was a busy place. Until the nissen huts were built, we slept on the mess-hall bare floor, but when a hut was completed we had the opportunity to get a bunk with 11 others; later when space became available there were only seven single beds to a hut.
To bathe, which didn't happen often, we paired up as we had no running water and had to chop ice on a pond and haul it to the hut. It was then placed in a large galvanized garbage can on the oil stove to be heated. Chunks of ice were added as necessary, thus the operation went on for some time. The use of the stove etc. meant that only two could plan to have a bath at a time. We used a round wash tub to bathe in, and this required buddies to scrub each other's back. Privacy was not available nor thought about.
On December 21st we received mail. It was dropped on the rocks from a height of about five hundred feet without a parachute, so the Christmas liquor smelled good but the glass from the bottles ruined the cakes etc. We did however receive Christmas cards and letters from home and sweethearts.
The station was not operational and would not be until after Christmas, so seven of us were given passes to go to St. Anthony for Christmas. We left on Dec 22nd and walked the 35 miles on a dog trail in one day. The travel was very tiring and many kind Newfoundland people invited us in for tea, but we knew if we stopped, it would be difficult to get going again. We did however, stop at St Anthony Bight, on the near side of the bay, across from St Anthony. We had tea, and left some canned butter with our hosts, but not until we almost set their place on fire. One of the boys got up from a chair and knocked the lantern off its hook above him. No harm was done except the lantern glass was broken. We thanked our friends and trod our way around the bay to St Anthony proper. We stayed at the hotel sleeping till later afternoon on the 23rd, Christmas eve. We were invited to the hospital, and met Dr. Curtis the head of the establishment. The present hospital is called 'The Curtis Memorial' hospital. Dr Lumas the dentist, and another doctor by the name of Betts were also there, with nurses and other hospital employees. They were most gracious hosts and after a drink of unknown origin, probably fermented bake-apple juice, they invited us for supper, after which we visited the orphanage.
On Dec 24th we went to the orphanage for dinner and were entertained by the children. They were very pleased to receive attention, and made our stay one I shall always remember. I left early and went back to the hotel and slept for a bit, went to a Scout meeting in the evening, met Fred Pike the SM as well as Dr Lumas ASM. Christmas Day was rest day interrupted by jokes and stories by Nelson Goulding, the Newfoundland Ranger, equivalent to the RCMP. His recitation of 'The King George 4th's Jubler; and 'Do Married men make the best best husbands?' were a hoot. On Dec 26th we went to the United Church, and after was invited to the Rev Cooper's home for tea.
December 27th we were on the road back to the station. Part of our trip was in a snow-storm and when we went to cross to the island, the ice had moved out. With difficulty we found a fellow who took us by boat; still in the snow-storm. We stopped several times to rest and on one occasion, I begged the others to leave me rest, but they knew better and forced me on, thank goodness. The station was a joy to behold in the snowy dark, and we weren't long going to bed and slept until noon the next day.
We received mail again by air - broken parcels again. We did receive mail on February 17th and 23rd by dog team, it had come from Deer Lake, about a hundred miles away. We read a lot, the same books over and over, as the library consisted of about two dozen books. We played chess, Martin Gilmore was my opposition, with lots of time for a move, a game lasted into the next week.
There were only two methods for physical exercise, one, shovelling snow, the other skiing. They had sent about a dozen ping-pong balls and four bats, but the balls were short lived. Delbert Hickling and I went skiing, along with a few others who were not as seasoned as we. There were about a dozen pairs of skiis when we started, but with rocky terrain that number was whittled down rapidly. We required permission from and advise the orderly room when we expected to return. Del and I finally skied on one ski each but as the photo shows, I used the pair just to say I had done it in June.
There were violent wind storms, one of which toppled one of the communication towers, we were without contact with the outside world until it was replaced. The Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights, were most spectacular with their luminous bands or streamers of light, filling the sky and disrupting our wireless signals. We spent many a quiet evening knowing we were alone on our island, and not able to call for help, medical or otherwise, if required.
The incessant wind, which would howl like a banshee, would frequently require the installation of 'hurricane pins' in the antenna turning-mechanism. When this took place we submitted false tracks to the filter room, this kept us on our toes and provided the wireless operators with practice, not that they required it, because they were pros.
While winter raged, there was less concern of a raid by a sub, so guard duty was suspended. We did however, keep our rifles clean and ready. When spring came, it was discovered the buffer on our 'big gun' was cracked, making it unserviceable.
Spring's arrival caused the ice to move off and ice-bergs the size of mountains came along the coast. It is amazing that we only saw one-tenth of the monsters. Guard duty was again instituted, we took our turns. We counted the days until our replacements would arrive. When they took our place, we left on the Sweeney and sailed down the coast to Botwood.
We flew from Botwood in a catalina flying boat to Sydney Nova Scotia and by train to Halifax where we received our back pay, three weeks leave and a ticket home.
Martin Gilmore's article entitled 'Count your blessings and smile', related in the Cape Baul Explorer, speaks for all of us.
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Updated: August 29, 2003