The French Canadian Family (written by W G Uprichard)

The French Canadian Family (written by W G Uprichard)

The unfortunate story of a delivery flight to Dorval during which snow started and Paddy Uprichard got lost. He forced landed in a field and was looked after by a French Canadian family.

15 printed sheets

This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.

BUprichardWGUprichardWGv7

[underlined] THE FRENCH CANADIAN FAMILY [/underlined]

It was on 31 January 1942, only about six weeks after the Bollingbroke [sic] Ferry incident, when I was still employed as a Flying Instructor in the Atlantic Ferry Flight at Dorval, Montreal, that two pilots were required to proceed to the Fairchild Aviation Factory to collect two Bollingbroke [sic] aircraft and fly them to Dorval for the embodiment of special radio fits and other modifications. The Fairchild Factory was only about 40 miles away on a course nor‘ nor’ east from Dorval and on checking my flight log book I see that I had collected about 4 or 5 Bollingbrokes and the flight time from the Fairchild Factory was usually about 15 minutes. In Air Force terms, it was only a “kick in the pants” away from Dorval. Anyway, my old friend Slim Jones, who featured in the Bollingbroke Ferry episode was nominated as the other pilot, and so a De Havilland Otter aircraft was laid on to fly Slim and I up to Fairchild.

It was a lovely, clear, freezing cold morning. Of course, being mid-winter there was plenty of snow on the ground and all the lakes and rivers were frozen over and had been for some time, but on this occasion the sun was shining and a nice blue sky with visibility unlimited. So we got aboard the Otter at about 10am and arrived at Fairchild at about 20 minutes later.

[page break]

– 2 –

On arrival we saw the two Bollingbrokes waiting on the tarmac so we walked to the Control Tower, had a cup of coffee and got clearance for Dorval, and proceeded to the aircraft to do our flight checks and get airborne.

After the normal checks had been carried out the mechanics told us that since the flight was of such short duration only a small quantity of petrol was on board but sufficient for over an hour’s flying which was really quite acceptable, as it was only a 15 minute flight, and, as we had both done it about 5 or 6 times previously we didn’t even trouble to take parachutes or maps. The old story of familiarity breeding contempt! One can get very lackadaisical at times and this sort of over-confidence can lead to disaster. But this is how we all learn – that is, if you’re lucky.

Anyway, we both got aboard our aircraft and started up. After about 10 minutes Slim was off and by that time I was doing my run up to check the engines. The port engine was OK but when I checked the starboard engine it started to bang and splutter and a violent drop in revs told me that the plugs were dirty and would require replacing. Just my luck. This meant at least a plug change and would delay my departure for an hour. In fact it was just over an hour before the work was completed and just as I was about to get into the cockpit I realised the weather had changed considerably. In fact, light snow was beginning to

[page break]

– 3 –

fall and there appeared to be a cloud formation coming up from the sou‘ sou’ west, right on my course for Dorval. However, it was only 15 minutes away so I thought I could get there OK. I quickly started up the engines, gave them a quick warm up, checked their switches, and I was off, sou‘ sou’ west for Dorval at about 12am. The visibility was reasonable, snow was falling lightly but at 800 feet I could still see the ground fairly well. However, after about 12 minutes when I was on the outskirts of the Dorval circuit the snow became much thicker and visibility was considerably reduced. However, I knew I was right beside the airfield. Unfortunately I had no radio so could not contact the tower. I was still at about 800 feet keeping a good lookout and hoping that I might get a glimpse of Dorval Airport. Possibly a glimpse of the runways, or the boundary fences or even the main highway to Montreal which passes close by, when suddenly I saw beneath me and to the left about 100 yards away, the outlines of the TransCanada Airways Lockheed, a passenger aircraft on a scheduled flight. That really frightened me for I realised that my presence in the vicinity of the airfield in such weather conditions and no-one knowing about my presence there made it extremely dangerous. So I decided that I must get out of there immediately for everybody’s sake. So I made a quick turn to the [deleted] right [/deleted] LEFT away from the airfield. I can remember looking at my watch and saying, I must fly for 5 minutes on this sou’ [deleted] westerly [/deleted] EASTERLY course to keep well clear of the airfield and out of danger. And this I did.

[page break]

– 4 –

I had now been airborne for about 27 minutes. I knew I was well clear of the airfield, but oh my, the snow was now coming down really quick and thick. Each one was about twice the size of a Smith’s crisp and some were as big and as lumpy as golden nuggets. At this time I was at 1000 feet catching only occasional glimpses of the ground. I knew I was south [deleted] west [/deleted] EAST of Dorval and well clear of the airfield. It was still snowing very hard and the question was – what should I do next? So I decided that I would fly round in a circle for a few minutes and think things out, and this I did. I knew I was south [deleted] west [/deleted] EAST of Dorval about 15 to 20 miles. This was a bad weather area – the snow storms seemed to be coming up from the south [deleted] west [/deleted]. It was no use considering trying to get back to the Fairchild Factory – the snow storm was moving that way and with no radio facilities and no visibility due to the snow, I would never find the place. And anyway, my fuel situation was beginning to cause me some concern. I reckoned I had about 30 minutes of fuel left so I really had to make some plan and think something out. I decided it was much too dangerous to return to Dorval and since the way to Fairchild was also out because of the snow, I would have to make a forced landing somewhere – but where? So I decided to fly east [deleted] south east [/deleted]. This would, I hoped, probably get me out of this heavy snow area and give me a little better visibility. Also I remembered that to the

[page break]

– 5 –

south [deleted] east [/deleted] of Dorval there was a river and some lakes and a large wooded area. I could remember seeing this on my flights around Dorval during my Instruction periods.

So, without more ado I headed the aircraft east [deleted] south east [/deleted] and gave myself 10 minutes on the course hoping that I might find an improvement in the weather. If only I could find a little break in the clouds and see the ground for a few moments, I could put the nose down and have a look. I was still at 1000 feet as I flew on to the end of my 10 minute period. I now came down to 800 feet as I hoped I was over low country. Certainly, there were no hills or mountains that I knew of and I considered it safe. Anyway my 10 minute period had now elapsed and believe it or not the snow was thinning out, so I came down to 500 feet and flew around for a few moments. I looked at my watch and was surprised to see that I had been in the air for over an hour. I looked at the petrol gauge and it still had about 30 minutes flying left. I had been keeping the revs well down and this helped to save fuel.

By this time I thought of all the excitement at Dorval. Slim Jones had arrived OK. He did not know that I was delayed with plug trouble. Although Fairchild would have phoned my delayed departure to Dorval so Dorval would have been expecting me, but of course, there was no way of contacting me in the air. So nobody had any idea of where

[page break]

– 6 –

Paddy Uprichard [deleted words] OR Will had disappeared to.

I was now almost an hour overdue but [deleted word] I was still up there flying around like a Canada goose but lacking their inborn sense of direction and navigational ability to say nothing of their long-range endurance capability.

While all this was racing through my mind, I was suddenly aware that the snow was easing off and the sky was becoming brighter. Sure enough, as I looked over to starboard, I saw whispy [sic] clouds and a fleeting glance of the ground. I quickly stuck the nose down and in a few seconds I was out of the light snow and in sight of the ground and my height was about 500 feet. Visibility was reasonably good. I was over pretty flat country with plenty of trees so I heaved a great sigh of relief and said a quiet prayer to The Master to let Him know that I appreciated His great kindness. I also added a few extra words and requests just to remind Him that I still had to get this Bollingbroke down somewhere – and pretty soon. Then [deleted] I thought of [/deleted] WHILE looking around and within a few minutes I saw a large, white, glassy area on the port beam. It looked quite big so I headed that way and there, to brighten my day, was a large, narrow lake, nearly a mile long my [sic] half a mile wide, bounded on one side by a large area of mature trees and on the other side by what one would call meadowland split up into little rectangular fields all separated by wire fencing and paling

[page break]

– 7 –

posts. Then I decided to do a dummy run and came down low about 20 feet over the lake and about 30 or 40 feet from the shore. I was wanting to inspect the surface of the lake as closely as possible as quite often before the freeze up starts any floating logs or big broken ice can cause an obstruction which, if I hit on landing, would certainly spell disaster.

I was very low and flying somewhat slowly at about 88 mph looking at the lake, when right ahead of me on the lake, well out from the shore were two large motor trucks and six men, so I thought, what on earth is going on? I knew the ice was pretty thick and would certainly hold the Bollingbroke. After all, it was 31 January so the lake had been freezing daily for at least a couple of months, but what were these trucks and men doing out there one third of the way across the lake? I flew over and they gave me a wave but I didn’t feel like waving back to anybody when I saw what they were doing – cutting large blocks of ice with enormous saws operated by two men and loading them into the trucks. This was their livelihood – supplying large firms with ice daily. My heart sank. It would be sheer stupidity to try and land on this lake. It was sure to be filled with holes, half frozen over, and I could see myself sinking into the cold waters of that lake through one of those many holes. It was then that I thought of that parachute. If only I had it I would

[page break]

– 8 –

bale out over these meadows. I had had enough of this Bollingbroke. I just couldn’t tempt [deleted] further [/deleted] FATHER luck any more. But then, I had no parachute so I had to think of something else. I looked at my watch – I had been in the air now one hour and a quarter. I had about 15 minutes of fuel left and so I flew over to have a look at those little fields, all fenced with paling posts and wire. There were about five of these fields, each one about 250 yards long and about 50 yards wide and as I looked at them from the air, I thought what a perfect geometric pattern they formed. I could, with a bit of luck, land in any of these fields, provided of course the wind was in the right direction. The ground was meadowland, frozen over but the grass was still showing it was trapped in the freeze up, However, I was concerned that if I landed with the undercarriage down in the normal fashion I would have little brake control on the icy ground with so little space – only 50 yards wide – if the aircraft swung on the ice I could be in real trouble. And again, with no braking power the aircraft would be reluctant to slow up and 250 yards is a very short distance so I would probably finish up at the far end in the rough ground.

Anyway, time was getting short, so I had better start and check the wind and get going. This was easily done because I looked around and there was a big farmhouse about half a mile away belching smoke. I flew over and checked

[page break]

– 9 –

the smoke with the position of the fields and, oh dear, the smoke was blowing straight across the five little fields and not along them as I had hoped. I thought, by Jove, you are having a bad day with that wind blowing across the fields I could not hope to escape disaster. I was sure to swing off the [sic] get all tangled up with paling posts and wire. So I decided to land across the fields. There would be less chance of the aircraft turning over and being into the wind I would have some steering control. I reckoned I could break through the fences OK providing I could keep the aircraft’s nose lined up between the posts. I had worked out that if I kept the aircraft’s nose midway between the posts then I would hit each post simultaneously halfway along each wing outboard of the engines. I then decided to keep the undercarriage up and land the aircraft on its belly and so doing this would reduce the aircraft’s run and furthermore there would be no tendency for the aircraft to turn over. I decided that just before landing I would turn off the fuel and switch off the engines as a safety precaution and then I would release the cockpit canopy and jettison it. But on second thoughts I decided this was unwise because with the aircraft hurtling along the ground on its belly, every time I hit a fence, the fence wire would be slashing over the top of the canopy and I might finish up in the cockpit with my head lying a couple of fields back having been decapitated with the wire so I decided to keep the canopy locked.

[page break]

– 10 –

Well, I think we were all ready now and I commenced my approach to land across the five fields. I tightened my cockpit harness, pulled down my goggles and said a little prayer. I looked as though I was headed for the last round-up but at least I had tried hard and I was now all set and believe it or not I was remarkably calm – no panic – no sweat – I was just glad at the time that the Canada goose was coming into nest and so I made my final turn at 100 feet and there in front of me were the five fields. I put the nose down slightly, eased back on the throttles, checked that the undercarriage was up, put the flaps fully down and eased the throttle until the airspeed showed 80 mph.

I was now committed about 50 feet up and 100 yards from my touchdown position. I leaned over and turned off the fuel and switched off the ignition. I was now almost on the ground and the first fence was about 100 yards away. I was skimming over the ground and I was just holding her there with the nose in between the two posts. Suddenly there was a gentle crunch and we were on terra firma going quite straight and smoothly at about 75 pmh [sic] towards fence number 1. I had good steerage control and I was conscious of the grass that seemed to be flashing past just under my ears. Everything was so quiet and peaceful when suddenly there was an almighty bang, a terrific force on my cockpit harness, a rattling and slashing of wire over the canopy and we were off again

[page break]

– 11 –

to fence number 2, going very straight and with still remarkable speed. I still had the nose nicely lined up when – Bang – that force again on my shoulders due to the cockpit harness and again the rattle of the wires scraping and slashing across the canopy and we were off again, still nice and straight and now our speed was somewhat reduced but we were now all lined up for fence number 3 when suddenly, about 300 yards away and right in line with the aircraft were two men sitting in a large, open, four-wheeled timber trailer pulled by two enormous horses. The driver was lashing at the horses with a long whip trying to work up some horsepower as he was sure this airoplane [sic] was going to hit them. I was of course some distance away but they had obviously been following my progress with some alarm and concern for themselves. However, they need not have worried. The old Canada goose was now getting tired and as we hit the third fence – another almighty bang – this time the wire over the canopy was slow and dragging and scraping and our speed was almost zero and then everything was still and quiet.

I looked for the timber wagon and the horses were about 250 yards away now going towards the big house from which I got my wind direction.

Well, I scrambled out. I looked at my watch. It was now one hour 30 minutes since I left the Fairchild Factory.

[page break]

– 12 –

I then looked at the aircraft – what a terrible mess. And what a shame that after all our misfortunes and problems that poor old Canada goose should have given her last gasp just after fence number 3. I could have wept. I looked back down my trail of disaster – large chunks of flaps, undercarriage, cowlings, tail wing, elevators and engine cowling all indicated more haste, less speed – something that must be taken seriously, especially when involved with aeroplanes.

Now, about the French Canadian Family. Well, it is just starting, while I surveyed the wreckage and got my belongings out of the cockpit and made a note of all the damage, which, when I looked at it was truly unbelievable – each of the paling posts had penetrated and torn the leading edge of each wing, at parts to a depth of two feet, until the post hit the main spar and of course stopped there and broke off. But then the stumps stripped the whole undersurface of the wings to pieces. However, while I was inspecting this, the two horsemen had got to the big house, had unhitched their horses and were now trotting towards me in a small, French style horse and cart. They both wore French berets, jumped down and greeted me with “Bonjour, monsieur. Pardon l’accident de l’avion” or something to that effect, and continued in French. All I did was smile at them and say “Oui, oui”. Then they pointed to the farmhouse and said “ [missing word] allez la maison.

[page break]

– 13 –

diner, oui?” Something like this which I understood to say we were going to have dinner. Well, I could understand this a little but they were true [inserted] FRENCH [/inserted] Canadian farmers who spoke no English. I got to the farmhouse. It was like a real old French chateau. The big yard was cobbled and inside there was an enormous kitchen with an earth floor and a large, circular metal stove, a wood burning stove. This kept the place warm. Many of the farmyard implements, hay, forks and rakes and so forth were hanging on the walls of the kitchen. There was an enormous wooden table with forms each side and when I entered there were about 12 to 15 people waiting to see me. There was the old father and mother, their two sons who were driving the horses, their two wives and five children ranging in age from about 2 years to 15 years and then a married daughter who was also living there with her husband.

When I arrived it was lunchtime, about 1.30. The girls and the womenfolk and the men were all dressed in their shabby working clothes. Also some of the women and the men were wearing wooden clogs.

However, I had to get to a telephone and phone Dorval. There was no telephone in the house so I was driven in the cart to a village about 2 miles away. That was the village of Saint Eustache. I tell you, all the boys at Dorval were glad to know that Paddy was still alive.

[page break]

– 14 –

It appeared they had all given up hope and I nearly had too.

However, when we returned to the farmhouse, what a transformation. All the womenfolk had their best dresses on, had done their hair, rouged their lips and powdered their faces. The children were dressed in their best frocks and the men had also changed, and everyone looked so nice and clean and smart. Nothing like this had ever happened to them before – or indeed to me either.

I was their guest of honour. The table was laid with large chunks of home-made French bread and home-made French cheese and we all sat down, children included, and we each had a large, deep soup plate and a large wooden spoon. In the middle of the table was a large bowl filled with a meat stew which was ladled out to each person by the young wives. The old mother sat at the head of the table smiling at her large family and the old man, le patron, sat facing her at the other end. They were all eating and gabbling away and telling the story of that big aeroplane that landed in their field, gesticulating as all French folk do with their hands, how it came down across the fields, smashing through the fences, shooting their arms into the air, their mouths and their eyes wide open with excitement of it all. I am sure they have told this story many times. However, on that

[page break]

– 15 –

occasion I was their honoured guest. After we had eaten large bottles of home-made wine were brought to the table and they all drank my health. I could see I was expected to reply, but oh dear, my French! my terrible French! But I had to do something so I stood up, and looking at the old man at the end of the table, I addressed him as “Monsieur le generale”. Everybody laughed and so did he. Then I turned to the old lady and said “Ma chere Madame”. She smiled. I turned to the others “Mesdames, messieurs et le enfants” and lots of clapping here. Then I started off trying to remember my school French – all wrong, but at least they understood. So I said “Merci beaucoup pour avant moi ici aujourd’hui” [sic] which I thought meant, thank you very much for having me here today. That is what I meant to say anyway. “Et pour ma tres, tres bon diner” and for my very, very good dinner. That was the best I could do. So I raised my glass and said “en francais” and we all drank with lots of laughter. That went down very well.

Well, we were just reaching this stage when there was the loud hooting of a horn outside and the car from Dorval had arrived. So everyone came out into the yard and all shook hands with me and as I got into the car and gazed at them all smiling and waving me goodbye I realised that I did not even know their name. What a shame, as they had treated me as though I was Napoleon.