One of the pleasures of being a military historian is getting to know such men as Ian R. MacDonald of Halifax, Nova Scotia; Norman Reid of Sidney, British Columbia; Stan Darch of Hamilton, Ontario; and Edward Carter-Edwards of Smithville, Ontario.
For his friendship and the hundreds of hours of telephone interviews over a number of years and for arranging with his brother to lend me the family’s collection of his and their wartime letters, I owe Ian a debt that the telling of his story of evasion, betrayal and imprisonment by the Gestapo and survival of the Hunger March can only partially repay. Norman’s story of his escape from Yugoslavia is only part of what I owe him; his engineer’s precision cleared up many technical mysteries for me. Telling of the horrors of Dieppe, of the humiliation of free men being shackled, of the deprivation of the POW camps and the misery of the Hunger March caused Stan to choke up, a testament to both the pain that had survived across seven decades and to his comrades. Ed, whose story runs from being shot down to evasion to a Gestapo prison in Paris and, along with 26 other Canadians, to Buchenwald, where, while he was there, three Canadian SOE (Special Operations Executive) agents were among 16 executed, took courage and fortitude to tell a stranger over the phone. For this I thank the man with the gentle voice who, when he visits schools to tell students about what he saw and suffered through in Konzentrationslager Buchenwald, carries with him a rail spike that once held the track that took him and hundreds of thousands more into the camp nestled in the gentle hills of Thuringia.
I must also thank Ron Beal, a medical corpsman who, like his fellow Torontonian, Leo Panatelo, was captured along with 1,900 other Canadians at Dieppe. Harry Hurwitz of Montreal shared with me his unique story of being the only Jewish member of the Royal Canadian Navy to be captured. For sharing with me the story of his father, Surgeon Lieutenant Charles Fisher of Waterloo, Ontario, I thank Dr. Hugh Fisher (Albany, New York).
Father André Dubois, director of the Archives Deschâtelets at Saint Paul University in Ottawa, did more than simply provide me with access to the hundreds of letters and memoirs written by the Oblates and Sacred Heart Brothers captured in April 1941. The dozens of questions he answered with good humour about the priests and brothers—many of whom he knew—made it seem, as I read the words they wrote on flimsy paper and postcards, that I was conversing with these brave and honourable men. Père André m’a donné une entrée dans une vision du monde depuis longtemps oublié, celui qui enrichit notre compréhension du temps derrière les barbelés.
Both my dean at Algonquin College in Ottawa, Russell Mills, and my chair, Robyn Heaten, support my writing endeavours outside the college, and for this, and their friendship over many years, I thank them.
Few writers could wish for more help from his colleagues than I have received from my fellow military historians over the years. Jonathan Vance, whose writing on prisoners of war is a model of scholarship, has helped me clarify my ideas. Dr. Tim Cook of the Canadian War Museum is both a friend and inspiration. Dr. Jeff Noakes, also at the Canadian War Museum, pointed me in the right direction at the beginning of this project. Jane Nesbitt, director of the museum’s research library, and Carol Reid and Maggie Arbour-Doucette have, as always, been extremely helpful.
I owe special thanks to two historians. The first is Dr. Bill Rawling, who guided me through understanding Dieppe and who I am collaborating with on an edition of the Oblates’ letters. The second is Dr. W.A.B. Douglas, whose wealth of knowledge about the Canadian military is an inspiration and who, despite all that he had contributed to our military history over decades, was like a kid in a candy shop when I told him about discovering the Oblates’ and Sacred Heart Brothers’ story.
Historians overseas have also helped me immeasurably. Sandra Sigmund, the director of the Buchenwald archives, graciously came in on her day off and opened the archives to me. The day my wife and I spent touring the P.O.W. Camps Museum, Stalag Luft III in Źagan (formerly Sagan), Poland, with its director, Marek Łazarz, was as perfect a day as an historian can imagine. As well, let me thank the various members of the SOE Yahoo! discussion group and especially Steven Kippax.
Father Kupka, OMI, an octogenarian Oblate priest in Poznan, Poland, who knew the two Oblates that Father Charbonneau met with secretly, was not only a gracious host and riveting raconteur, he also explained how the occupation of his part of Poland worked and the terrible costs the Polish people and the Oblates paid. Dobry ojciec, bardzo dzi kuj.
David Johnston, my agent, allowed me to get on with the work of research and writing.
Jim Gifford, my editor, embraced this project from the beginning, wielded Track Changes like a scalpel, and joined me in the joy of uncovering these forgotten stories. Allegra Robinson, Judy Phillips, Tilman Lewis and the HarperCollins production team did the yeoman’s work, making this difficult book attractive and easily readable.
Finally, as always, I must thank my children, Pascale and Nicolas, as well as Tyson Lowrie, who together transcribed the Oblates’ letters and know the pleasures of putting words together to make meaning.