Three cheers for the man on the ground

Murray Fraser with a fellow LAC (Leading Aircraftman), St. Thomas, Ontario, 1941

Three Cheers for the Man on the Ground

Wherever you walk, you will hear people talk,
Of the men who go up in the air,
Of the dare-devil way they go into the fray;
Facing death without turning a hair.

They'll raise a big cheer and buy lots of beer,
For a pilot who's home on leave.
But they don't give a jigger
For the flight mech or rigger
With nothing but "props" on his sleeve.

They just say "nice day" and then turn away,
With never a mention of praise.
And the poor bloody erk who does all the work,
Just orders his own beer,
And pays!

They've never been told of the hours in the cold,
That he spends sealing Germany's fate.
How he works on a kite, till all hours of the night,
And then turns up next morning at eight.

He gets no rake-off for working till "take-off,"
Or helping the aircrew prepare.
But whenever there's trouble, it's "quick, on the double,"
The man on the ground must be there.

Each flying crew could tell it to you,
They know what this man's really worth.
They know he's a part of the RAAF's heart,
Although he stays close to the earth.

He doesn't want glory, but please tell his story,
Spread a little of his fame around.
He's one of a few, so give him his due,
Three cheers for the man on the ground.

Source: Royal Australian Air Force,
http://www.defence.gov.au/news/raafnews/editions/4270/letters.htm 

"Knobby" Clark and Murray Fraser, Britain, 1945

The dying aviator

The following drinking song from World War I is based on the old Australian Folk Song The Dying Stockman.


A young aviator lay dying,
At the end of a bright summer's day [chorus of Erks*] ... Summer's day!
His comrades had gathered around him,
To carry his fragments away.
The crate was piled up on his wishbone.
His Lewis was wrapped 'round his head.  ... His head!
He wore a spark plug in each elbow,
'Twas plain he would shortly be dead.
He spat out a valve and a gasket,
As he stirred in the sump where he lay  ... Where he lay!
And then to his wondering comrades,
These brave parting words did he say:
Take the manifold out of my larynx,
And the butterfly-valve from my neck  ... From his neck!
Remove from my kidneys the camrods,
There's a lot of good parts in this wreck.
Take the piston ring out of my stomach,
And the cylinders out of my brain.  ... His brain!
Extract from my liver the crankshaft,
And assemble the engine again!
Pull the longeron out of my backbone,
The turnbuckle out of my ear ... His ear!
From the small of my back take the rudder.
There's all of your aeroplane here.
I'll be riding a cloud in the morning,
No engine before me to cuss.  ... To cuss!
Shake the lead from your feet and get busy,
There's another lad needing this bus!

------

* An Erk is a member of the ground crew, from the Cockney pronunciation of "Aircraftman."

Source:

http://www.3squadron.org.au/subpages/Dying_Aviator.htm

An order of worship

Memorial in Trenton, Ontario to No. 6 RCAF Group, RAF Bomber Command

RCAF BOMBER GROUP OVERSEAS

AN ORDER OF WORSHIP

"For use at the time of the cessation of hostilities in Europe."

"Note - The offerings taken at this service will be given to the British Council of Churches Fund for the Reconstruction of Christian Churches in Liberated. Europe."

Source: Murray Fraser archives

Cacoethes scribendi

Like many Reids and Frasers before him, Dad was an inveterate writer of letters. He corresponded regularly with a number of friends and relatives, evidenced by his box of letters labelled caoethes scribendi (Greek for an insatiable desire to write.)

Dad's collection of 47 letters from his cousin Gordon Reid, written between 1984 and 1996. No doubt there were earlier ones, too.

Of the many letters Dad saved, most are from a cousin who was likely his favourite pen pal: (Peter) Gordon Reid. Gordon (1909-1997) was the eldest son of Annie Reid's brother Donald, and was ten years older than his cousin Murray. Gordon and his wife Jessie (née MacKinnon) married on July 11, 1942 and raised three children: Donald, Heather and Mary-Lynn, who figure prominently in letters sent to Murray Fraser. 

Gordon Reid
Source: Guelph Public Library Archives

A brief biography of Gordon is quoted here from a profile written by Joy Simpson and Joyce MacKenzie for the Guelph Collegiate Vocational Institute Wall of Fame:

Peter Gordon Reid was born in Chesley, Ontario where he attended high school. After graduation he attended Stratford Teachers' College and taught elementary school. In 1938 he graduated from Queen's University with a BA in English and History. From 1942 to 1946 he served in the Canadian army. In 1968 he earned his MA in History from the University of Waterloo. In January 1948 Gordon Reid was appointed Head of Guidance and teacher of English at the GCVI. He was appointed Principal in April 1956 and served until June 1971. He served as Superintendent with the Wellington County Board of Education until his retirement in December 1971.  

As teacher and Principal at the GCVI he provided outstanding leadership. Under his direction the present resource centre was opened in the fall of 1969. In 1971, the school library was named the P.G. Reid Resource Centre in honour of his vision that "the greatest thing you can do for youngsters is to give them the opportunity to read." Mr. Reid would often drop in and visit the library after he retired. 

Family tree aside, Dad and his cousin had much in common beyond their cacoethes scribendi. Both were raised on farms, were excellent students, and served in World War II. Like Dad, Gordon was able to visit far-flung relatives in Scotland when the war ended. Post-war, the two pursued different career paths (Gordon into education, Dad into aerospace engineering), where they each excelled.

Gordon (at left) and Murray were always inviting each other to come for a visit. Dad took up the offer in 1990, and very much enjoyed a trip to Ontario, visiting many relatives on both sides of the family.

Gordon and Murray wrote to each other like dear old friends, and seem well matched in temperament, intellect, interests, and sense of humour. They were well read and wrote amusing, chatty, and informative letters. 

Both were proud of their Scottish roots, and were concerned that this knowledge would disappear with subsequent generations. They were delighted with Mary MacKay's history of the Reids, Far Spread the Sparks from Cantire, to which they both eagerly contributed. Perhaps it was Gordon's historical writings (including a history of Elderslie Township) and Mary MacKay's work that inspired Dad to pen his own volume of Fraser stories.

Murray and Gordon at the Reids' home in Guelph, Ontario.

In their letters, Gordon and Murray shared family news, told of trips and excursions, bragged about their kids, admired each other's ventures into senior sports (Gordon as a curler, Dad as line dancer, bicyclist and speed skater), consoled each other when old acquaintances and family members passed away, and compared the challenges of advancing age. The two seem never to have disagreed about politics or religion, which are briefly and rarely mentioned. Often Jessie would add a greeting of her own to Gordon's letters. 

Not surprisingly, Gordon appears to be the go-to person for others researching family histories, and always made great efforts to help those who consulted him, even when they were far-flung relatives he had never met. He stayed in touch with distant relatives in Kintyre, Scotland and would update Dad regularly.

Gordon and Jessie visited Dad at his home in Winnipeg.

Gordon and Murray were diligent about responding to all correspondence. It was a natural inclination; both had mothers who had kept diaries and were good correspondents themselves. Both Murray and Gordon kept a log of letters received and would comment on each other's news.

Dad would note on Gordon's envelopes the date he wrote back, and what his reply included.

Knowing the Christmas season would be busy, Gordon had a smart tradition of writing longer letters ahead of time, in November. Christmas cards would follow later, of course. Dad and Gordon would add photos or intriguing clippings to their letters from time to time. An invitation to the annual Reid Family Picnic was sure to be shared.

In a letter of August 7, 1990 Gordon complimented Dad on the profile of Annie Reid he wrote as the tenth and final chapter in Mary MacKay's history book. Her book prompted much research and sharing of family photos, among them one which Gordon references: "that large old photograph showing Uncle Peter Reid with Neil seated in the midst of that obviously very Highland gathering. Guessing from Neil's appearance and his known birthday (1898) the picture must have been taken in the middle of the first decade of this [20th] century. Uncle Peter was then a man in his prime and fresh-looking. I am glad to have it."

Gordon and Murray's uncle, Peter Reid (1866-1936), sits in the centre with son Neil (1898-1970) on his lap. Born on the Reid homestead, Peter was the third child of Peter Reid and Christena Taylor. He settled in North Dakota Territory in 1887.

A notation in Dad's hand on the back of the photo suggests it was taken in Langdon, North Dakota. Neil's profile in Far Spread the Sparks of Cantire notes that large gatherings of pipers and dancers would assemble to celebrate Robbie Burns Day, when "even the Norwegians had 'Mac' attached to their names." (pp. 109-110).

Seated, piper Louis McLeod does a better job at staying in focus. (To be fair, shutter speeds were long.) The dapper piper at right is identified only as "Piper Gordon." Copies of these photos are in the Western Canada Pictorial Index, housed at the University of Winnipeg. 

Neither writer embraced computers and email, although the Reid household at least acquired an early Tandy model. In his letter of July 13, 1993 Gordon confessed his inability to keep up with modern literature and technology. He lamented that many of his obsolete skills went unappreciated, like "Grandpa Reid who knew a lot about the blacksmithing trade which has been completely by-passed by modern technology. As for my ability to hitch a 3-horse team, even in the dark, or to plough a straight furrow - who cares?" Dad would have enjoyed the reference and shared the sentiment.

As an educator, Gordon, like Dad, likely kept a collection of "good stuff" - clippings of poems, interesting articles, and the like, and could recite many favourite passages, too. He replied in a July 29, 1988 letter that he recognized all of Dad's 10 favourite poems, and offered his own list:

The Eve of Waterloo (Byron)
"There was a sound of revelry by night
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry ..."

Tam O'Shanter (Burns), especially the part where Tam remembers too late, his wife's advice which he had ignored:
"Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, 
To think how mony counsels sweet, 
How mony lengthen'd, sage advices, 
The husband frae the wife despises!"

Lord Ullin's Daughter (Thomas Campbell)
"A Chieftan to the Highlands bound, 
Cries, 'Boatman, do not tarry; 
And I'll give thee a silver pound 
To row us o'er the ferry.' "
(Gordon noted, "This is Ulva ferry, Isle of Mull and I thought of it when we drove past in 1976. Grandma Reid could recite long passages of it.")

Ulysses (Tennyson)
"It little profits, that an idle king..." etc. and especially when Ulysses decides to spend the remaining years again as a rover:
"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Gordon continued: 

Plus three songs my dad often sang:
Nut Brown Maiden (in Gaelic)

'Twas within a mile o' Edinboro' town 

The third, he didn't sing, when I think it over, but I think myself it is the finest love lyric ever written (Burns, of course):
"My love is like a red, red rose..."

Add to those the psalm, "Unto the hills..." and the old lament on the pipes, The Flowers of the Forest and you have a pretty good sample of my own anthology.

Yes, Dad and his cousin were well-matched pen pals, and they clearly enjoyed their correspondence over many years. Gordon acknowledged this in his very last letter to Dad, referring to their correspondence as a "chain of letters which keeps us united." 

I might add yet one more literary reference that I think the two would like. Oliver Wendell Holmes admitted to the same cacoethes scribendi:

Cacoethes Scribendi
By Oliver Wendell Holmes

If all the trees in all the woods were men;
And each and every blade of grass a pen;
If every leaf on every shrub and tree
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,
And for ten thousand ages, day and night,
The human race should write, and write, and write,
Till all the pens and paper were used up,
And the huge inkstand was an empty cup,
Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink
Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.

In parting, please enjoy a little Nut Brown Maiden (or, more correctly,  Ho Ro Mo Nighean Donn Bhoidheach) by the Rankin Family: 

For he was Scotch, and so was she

Annie (Reid) and Pete Fraser with son Murray and his dog Spot, circa 1920

The poem below is transcribed from yet another newspaper clipping from the Fraser trunk, saved by Murray Fraser's dear mother. It might well have referred to his parents, Annie and Pete.

For he was Scotch, and so was she 

They were a couple well content

With what they earned and what they spent,

Cared not a whit for style’s decree –

For he was Scotch, and so was she.

And oh, they loved to talk of Burns –

Dear blithesome, tender Bobby Burns!

They never wearied of his song,

He never sang a note too strong.

One little fault could neither see –

For he was Scotch, and so was she.

They loved to read of men who stood

And gave for country life and blood,

Who held their faith so grand a thing

They scorned to yield it to a king.

Ah, proud of such they well might be –

For he was Scotch, and so was she.

From neighbors’ broils they kept away;

No liking for such things had they,

And oh, each had a canny mind,

And could be deaf, and dumb and blind.

With words or pence was neither free –

For he was Scotch, and so was she.

I would not have you think this pair

Went on in weather always fair,

For well you know, in married life

Will come, sometimes, the jar and strife;

They couldn’t always just agree –

For he was Scotch, and so was she.

But near of heart they ever kept,

Until at close of life they slept;

Just this to say when all was past,

They loved each other to the last.

They’re loving yet, in heaven, maybe –

For he was Scotch, and so was she. 

-- From “The Cornflower and Other Poems,” by Jean Blewett. (Wm. Briggs)

Annie Reid

Dad's cousin, Mary MacKay, prepared an exhaustive history of the descendants of Peter and Christena Reid, entitled Far Spread the Sparks from Cantire. It is a great resource and includes a chapter on Annie Reid. That profile is copied here:

Christena Reid was 42 and Peter was 52 when their youngest child arrived on January 5, 1881. Annie was born on Lot 13, Con. 5, Elderslie Township, Bruce County, Ontario, and spent her youngest years there. Her oldest sister, Mary (b. 1861), was twenty, and her youngest sister, Kate (b. 1878), was almost three when she was born. Sprinkled between at regular intervals were Margaret (b. 1863), Peter (b. 1866), Tena (b. 1868), Sandy (b. 1870), Neil (b. 1872), and Donald (b. 1875).

When Annie was only five years old, Mary and Margaret both married Muir brothers and set up their own homes – Mary and Bob near Glenannan, Ontario, and Margaret and George Muir in Hannah, North Dakota. Just a year later, when she was about to start school, her oldest brother, Peter, left on the harvest excursion for the west and stayed to homestead.

Reid house, Lot 3, Concession 5, Elderslie Township, Ontario (1942)
The pioneer homestead of Peter and Christena Reid since the 1850s, the home is still in the Reid family.

Reid farm (1942). A blacksmithing book dating back to the 1860s records that in 1892 the original 100 acres of land were valued at $2,550. The farming was mixed, including sheep, chickens, pigs and cows. Peter Reid ran his blacksmith shop out of the driving shed, which still stands on the property.

Annie attended S.S. No. 1, Elderslie, Cantire School, and took with her fond memories of her best teacher, Mr. Robert J. Lindsay. Among her mementoes she had this autograph:

Paisley, February 13, 1894 

To Annie; –– 

Among the many faces

Of the fourth's sisters and brothers

There's one that draws attention

More than any others.

Some were light and lively

And some were wildly gay

And some like little Daffy

Were inclined to sport and play

But one whose name will live

When others long have gone

And richly she deserves this praise

Which she has fairly won.

And when the name of other girls

From my memory shall recede

There's one that still will hold its place

'Tis that of Annie Reid.

-- R. J. Lindsay 

Annie Reid, 1890s

Being the youngest in the family meant life was much different for Annie than for her sisters. There were no little brothers or sisters to care for.

In 1893 twelve-year-old Annie Reid readily passed the High School entrance exam.

In February of her last year in public school, her father died. The family continued to live in the red brick family home and the farm work was done by Neil, Donald and Kate. Annie went to Paisley to work in a store. She went out west to visit her two brothers and two sisters who settled there, but returned to Ontario with Margaret and George and their children when they returned home for a visit 1907.

When brother Donald was married in 1908 and took over the family farm, Annie at twenty-seven years of age became the fifth member of the family to move to Dakota. Her second brother, Sandy, had left when she was eleven and her sister, Tena, married James Moffat when she was sixteen.

Annie made her home with Tena, two or three miles from Hannah, N.D. She worked at Valentine's store in Hannah and boarded in town until her marriage eight years later.

The wedding of Pete Fraser and Annie Reid, July 19, 1916, in Hannah, North Dakota. The toddler out front is Dad's cousin Myra, who claimed she remembered this day.

On July 19, 1916, at thirty-five years of age, Annie Reid was united in marriage to Peter Hay Fraser, son of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Fraser. Annie's mother, Christena, and oldest sister, Mary Muir, came from Ontario for the wedding.

"The bride is a lady of sterling character..."

Pete and Annie's Certificate of Marriage

Pete's early years were spent on the 6th line of Turnberry Township, Huron County, Ontario. He moved with his parents to Pilot Mound, Manitoba, in 1906. Pete, like his father, had taught school for a time before starting farming on his own. Pete, at forty years of age, would drive his horses from Pilot Mound over the border about twenty-five miles to Hannah to court Annie. 

The Fraser farm house, Pilot Mound. Annie was the photographer in the family, and caught Jessie and Collie on the rooftop. 

Peter and Annie's first home near Pilot Mound was a one-and-a-half story log boarded over, and a back kitchen built at the rear. It was heated by wood-fired cookstove, and in colder weather by a Québec heater and later a "tin" heater. They had no electricity or running water.

Pete and Annie had a driving horse "Gyp," that knew when it was Sunday. Without any direction Gyp would unerringly turn down to the church barn on a Sunday, and on any other day trot straight on to the livery barn in Pilot Mound. The clothes the passengers wore did not seem to be Gyp's clue. Perhaps just "horse sense."

Pete Fraser runs the mighty Gaar-Scott steam engine while four men pitch into the feeder of the Red River Special separator. His brothers John and Sandy are among the crew. Threshing for a number of neighbours meant the season lasted many weeks. 

Annie was a good farm wife. She was very capable in all household chores, cooking, sewing, knitting, mending, and nurturing. She would also milk cows at threshing time when the men spent long hours in the field, often at other farms when the "big outfit" was operating. She kept a big garden, made her own butter and cared for the hens. She would trade eggs and butter at the stores in town to keep the family in groceries.

Farm wife Annie Fraser juggles chores and baby Jessie.

Although Annie only had a Grade 8 education, that was considered a good education in the 1890s. She liked to write and kept correspondence with family and friends in Ontario and in the west. She liked to help her children, Jessie Isobel (b. 1917) and Murray Reid (b. 1919) with their composition assignments. Reading was also one of her pleasures. The whole family enjoyed the Family Herald and Weekly Star and the Free Press. They did not have a radio until 1937, when they bought a battery-powered radio from Sears or Montgomery Ward of Hannah. With a long aerial from the house to the garage, reception was remarkable.

Murray's arrival on May 31, 1919 completed the small Fraser family.

Annie loved music: "Humoresque" was her favourite. "Souvenir" and "Minuet" on 78 RPM records she considered "the good pieces." Anything Harry Lauder sang brought her joy, as did Brigadoon.

Annie believed a good wife baked her own bread. She did and it always turned out well and Pete remembered to renew her contract to "keep the cook for another week." Pete used to tease her about buttering every bite. Too much butter no doubt led to being hospitalized in 1949 for gallbladder surgery.

Annie and Pete Fraser during a trip to Ontario, 1946

Unlike the other members of her family that went west, Annie enjoyed several visits to Ontario. Her last trip east was in 1954, with son Murray driving.

Pete and Annie with their first grandson Murray Houlden.

In 1951 Annie and Pete retired to a small house in Pilot Mound without sewer and water but with electricity and oil heat. 

Annie and Pete welcome a grandson to their tiny retirement home in Pilot Mound. 

In 1955 Pete was hospitalized in Pilot Mound and lived his last few months in a nursing home in Winnipeg, dying on October 7, 1955.

Pete Fraser died at age 79.

Annie lived alone for a few years after Pete's death. A neighbour, Mr. Cockerline, also a retired farmer, was kind to her and carried in water, shovelled her walk, etc. In the early sixties she went to live with her daughter, Jessie, and her son-in-law Jack Houlden. While standing at the sink doing dishes, a hip collapsed. She was hospitalized  at Crystal City and spent a most painful period, lying immobilized, but not in a cast. They had her up trying to walk before the crack was healed, resulting in further damage. She was moved to Winnipeg Hospital were a bone specialist replaced the deteriorated hip bone with an artificial joint. She suffered a great deal, but the skirl of the bagpipes on a radio across the hall revived her from near death. She went to the home of her son, Murray, and his wife, Hazel, and with loving care walked again. Murray even persuaded her to attend the Scotch programme at the local racetrack.

Annie once said, "I'm not biased about being Scotch." (She never used the term Scottish) "Had I been born English or Irish I would have been just as proud."

"Och, aye," a friend replied, " but you're quite content to be Scotch!"

In 1967, Annie decided to leave her daughter's home and go to Mrs. Duncan's private nursing home in Manitou for constant care.

Her daughter Jessie was teaching and Annie needed more care than Jessie could give. She enjoyed visits and letters and reading from Sir Walter Scott's The Lady of the Lake.

 On January 20, 1969 less than a month after her 88th birthday, Annie Reid Fraser "wore out." She had outlived her four brothers and four sisters and although they all lived into their seventies and eighties, she lived longer than any of them, except her oldest sister Mary, who lived to be 90.

Funeral services were held at the Pilot Mound United Church where she had been a faithful member for many years. She was buried beside her husband in the Pilot Mound cemetery.

Suggested Reading  (links to Amazon.ca)

• The Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott - a narrative poem first published in 1810. Set in the Trossachs region of Scotland, it is composed of six cantos, each of which concerns the action of a single day.
• The Scotch, by John Kenneth Galbraith, 1964. "The story of a community where love of money was the root of much virtue, and moderation in all matters a source of much esteem." Written by the well-known economist, but funnier than you'd think. Aunt Annie, however, found it rather insulting. She was not amused.
• How the Scots Invented the Modern World, by Arthur Herman, 2001. "The true story of how Western Europe's poorest nation created our world and everything in it." A New York Times Best Seller.
• Complete Works of Robert Burns, by the Scottish poet and lyricist known as the "Bard of Ayrshire."  Robbie Burns (1759-1796) is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and is celebrated worldwide.
• Canadian Poets, by John William Garvin, 2008 reprint of orig. pub. 1916. Contains the poem "For He Was Scotch, and So Was She" by Jean Blewett (1872-1934).