September 1952. Standing over the Lachine Canal just outside of Montréal, a day before embarking on North Star 17515 which was to bring us, a whole muttly crew of wing supporters, across the ocean to a place named Grostenquin, somewhere in postwar Europe. I was gazing at the horizon and wondering how it would feel to be at 10,000 feet up over the Atlantic, and, as I looked at the southern shore of Lac St-Louis across from Lachine, I had no idea what kind of a new world I would find in the old world "across the pond". A brand new life, I was to find out later. Engines roared and the C5 bumpily rolled down the runway until we left the ground heading for the great wild blue yonder.
We had a stop at Moncton NB to pick up some material. Then we headed for Gander Newfoundland for a final refuel before the crossing. The crossing of my fingers that is - as I heard so many stories of mishaps of the famed North Star. St. Hubert was my first posting. The home of the mighty 421 "Indian" Squadron "Bellicum Cecinere" which was to find its way to #2 (F) Wing in Europe. So, by hopping over the "pond", I would renew friendship with old buddies. The old flying workhorse safely carried us across the northern Atlantic to the shores of Iceland. After a brief stay at Keflavik, not long enough to have a taste of the local flavours, we were airborne again. This time heading for Scotland. We landed at Prestwick and just had time for a little walk around the airport. We were expected for the overnight at Langar, England. That was my first taste of true English Pub and not being used to the quantities served "by the pint" I nearly missed the plane the next morning. Some may remember the rigid procedure of signing in and out overnight bedding and clearing out. 1 Air Division's pride and joy, 2 Fighter Wing, Grostenquin, France. (the only one on the continent then) was our next destination. A delayed departure, some mechanical details, and a stop in London, brought us over the Grostenquin airfield past dusk and there was not yet any lighting available for the runway. An attempt was made on the ground to light a few flare pods but it was not judged safe enough for a proper landing. We then headed to "Paris" for an overnight!
The Canadian delegation in Paris arranged for us to spend the night in a hotel just off Place Blanche. We had dinner on Boulevard de Clichy, at the Cyrano de Bergerac, there to be introduced for the first time to a Parisian "Menu". No hotdogs, no hamburgers, no hot chicken sandwiches. Of course, I knew French, but not their dishes. As a result, a lot of us just pointed at items on the menu that were thought palatable for this late hour. Walking along Boulevard de Clichy you can reach the famous "Place Pigale". The Boulevard is strewn with bistros, restaurants and cafés all doing business as if it was high noon. What a welcome and introduction to a new posting! Many of us partook in the celebration, enjoying le "vin blanc" and "champagne" which were then cheaper than to order a glass of milk! Let's see...what time was it when we finally took off for GT? Few of us know, except the pilot may be. In any case we landed on the 2 (F) Wing runway three and half days after leaving Montréal. Not exactly a record for a transatlantic crossing via airways.
Although the station at Grostenquin was said to be ready to accommodate three squadrons and a Wing Administration, the actual situation was far from that. I remember going to bed with heavy woolen socks and a "great coat". Later, non-functional hot water pipes mimicking a heating system were replaced by hot air tubes blowing heat from Herman-Nelson heaters outside the barracks. Also, the whole base was known as "Mud Alley", and to get to the temporary Mess Hall you had to "walk the plank" lest you were allowed in the Mess Hall with your messy rubber boots overflowing with mud. Which brought a visiting reporter to say that these conditions were worse than real war situations. But Hey! we were fighting Stalin and the commies, of which there were several infiltrators on the base. Moscow Molly reminded us of that from time to time. And to close the 1952 year, there was Christmas at Ma Hemerings! 1953 showed promises that evaporated when, a few days before the MDN was to accept the turn over of the base, a strong wind storm blew the roof of the new Mess Hall off the building and damaged other areas. Although this story may sound "un peu triste", nevertheless, my 1 Air Division experience both at Grostenquin and Metz were very memorable and enjoyable years of my life despite the somewhat rough beginning. I have numerous photos of these times and maybe at another moment I'll have a chance to talk about the happy days of GT. The only recreational facility I recall, and much enjoyed, was being bussed to Metz once a week and using the municipal swimming pool which was of Olympic size.