Bill Waiser is a historian and a two-time Governor-General’s Award winner. His father Ted, a member of the British Columbia Regiment, fought in France, Holland and Germany during the Second World War.
British prime minister Winston Churchill described the Allies’ decisive victory in Egypt in 1942 as the “end of the beginning.” D-Day – the successful June 6, 1944, Allied landing on France’s Normandy coast – could well be described as the beginning of the end for Nazi Germany.
It would still take several months of brutal fighting to defeat the Nazi war machine. What is certain, though, is that 80 years ago this week marked the start of something special: Canadian soldiers, their partners and their families being able to meaningfully think about being reunited back home.
But there’s another segment of the population whose yearning wait hasn’t received nearly enough attention: the young children of that generation. Many barely knew their fathers by the time they’d left for war; others were born after their fathers enlisted. Still more never saw their fathers again.
John English, Jim Miller and John Wadland – all retired university professors – were born when their fathers were at war against the Axis powers. Mr. English was born in January, 1945; Mr. Miller and Mr. Wadland were both born in April, 1943. Their experiences may have been different, but they were not alone; more than a million Canadians served in the Second World War and many other men and women were born while their fathers were away.
There’s a tendency to focus on the postwar baby boom and overlook these wartime births and the way that mothers had to figure out how to raise children alone under the shadow of war. But like everyone else, these youth had to adjust to a postwar world – one in which many of them found strange men, their fathers, entering their lives. They deserve our attention, too.
John Butler Wadland of Woodstock, Ont., would serve with the RCAF in North Africa, the Middle East and southern Europe.Supplied
John Butler Wadland, born in 1911, was a sheet-music and insurance salesman from Woodstock, Ont. He had been married to Marjorie Fuller for two years when he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1942. Stationed in Centralia, Ont., one of the major sites of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, he would be one of the more than 130,000 men trained under the plan to fight against the Axis powers.
That’s where his son John Wadland was conceived – the last time his parents were together before his father left for England in early 1943 as part of the No. 6 Bomber Group in Leeds.
“You need to understand,” he said, speaking of his father’s decision, “that people did service things all their lives. Canadians didn’t discover service at the start of the war.”
“My dad was destined to go … he wanted to be useful.”
Mr. Wadland’s father went on to serve as a supervisor, liaison officer and entertainer with the RCAF auxiliary services (the Canadian Young Men’s Christian Association Overseas) in North Africa, the Middle East and Southern Europe. His “exceptionally beneficial” work would earn him the Member of the British Empire (M.B.E.) medal.
At home, Marjorie, a nurse by training, got help from her in-laws, especially her husband’s father. John fondly described him as “a substitute father … he was a very important part of my growing up.” His grandfather would drop by the small Toronto walk-up where he and his mom lived and take him for walks.
When John’s father returned to Canada in February, 1946, he remembers a smooth adjustment back to normal, especially between his parents. “Things were pretty cozy,” he said, laughing, “because I have three younger sisters.”
But with his dad away during his formative years, “he and I had some rocky moments,” he said. “I didn’t know this guy. I had my grandfather.” In fact, the first thing he did when he met his father for the first time, he remembers, was to kick him in the shin. It was only in the last 10 years of his father’s life that they “got things sorted out,” he told me.
Marjorie Wadland's letters from her husband have helped son John, shown as a baby, understand their lives during the war.Supplied
What has helped are the dozens of letters that his father wrote to his mother, which John has recently started to read. He learned that his father was “always asking about me.” And while his mother kept a photo of his father on display in the house, she also sent photos of young John in her return letters to the war front. And when he was stationed in Italy, his father commissioned three oil paintings based on those photographs, which John cherishes to this day.
“I want to know him,” he declared. “For the first time, I’m meeting him as a young man and me as a kid … It’s really important to me.”
John Henry English signed up because 'it was the right thing to do,' says his son, also named John, shown with mother Merle and some aunts.Supplied
John Henry English, born in 1916, was working in his father’s general store in Plattsville, Ont., when he joined the Oxford Rifles in August, 1940. He got married to Merle Kennedy right after he enlisted, then trained as a commando. Then, in early 1942 – after Japan’s bombing of Pearl Harbor and the U.S.’s entry into the war – he was sent to the Pacific Coast.
He spent the next two years in British Columbia, first in Nanaimo and then Prince George, before being dispatched to Britain in December, 1944, becoming a quartermaster sergeant because of his retail experience. He had a close call when a V-1 rocket demolished the building next door, John remembers, and later helped with demobilization in Holland after the Nazi defeat.
Eventually, John’s parents reunited in Prince George in 1943 amid the waiting and fear around a Japanese invasion that would never come. Many sought to live life to the fullest. And it was during his parents’ time together that John was conceived, in March, 1944.
John said his father signed up because “it was the right thing to do … the right war … against a real force of evil.” It was a “very positive experience” for him.
But John’s mother Merle, a teacher by profession, endured “an unpleasant situation.” She had a difficult birth, and during her lengthy recovery from a cesarean, she lived with her husband’s parents in an old, drafty home. There were never money worries, but John’s mother and grandmother didn’t get along; there was a lot of tension. His mother found her own place with John after several months.
One vivid memory for Mr. English was the “dominance of family … especially aunts and grandmothers” on weekends.
When John English’s father came home in May, 1946, his parents settled back into “the way they were” before the war. His father’s absence, though, affected their relationship. The “why” became apparent once John became a father himself, and then a grandfather: the time they spent apart. “I realize now what he missed,” he admitted, “and I realize what I missed, too. Clearly, there was something not there.”
Unfortunately, there are no letters between John’s parents to fill in the blanks. All he has are a pair of wooden shoes from his dad’s time in Holland.
James Miller, a Scottish immigrant to Canada, had already enlisted before he learned his wife was pregnant.
Miller's son, Jim, recalls family and neighbours caring for him in his father's absence.Supplied
James Miller, born in 1912, was a Scottish immigrant who worked in the lab of a textile factory in Cornwall, Ont. At the time of his enlistment in 1942, he was married to a fellow Scot named Isabella Rodger, and they’d had one child: a son, John.
James joined the RCAF and trained as an airplane mechanic at Rockcliffe and then St. Thomas, Ont., before being posted in 1943 to RAF Biggin Hill in southern England (Biggan Hill), then the Moroccan capital of Rabat, and finally, Gibraltar.
He learned that his wife was pregnant with their second child, Jim, after he enlisted.
Jim Miller readily acknowledges that his father didn’t have to enlist; he was already in his 30s at the time, and had a wife and son. But his dad told him “the longer the war went on, the more uncomfortable he felt, and the more he had to go.”
Family and friends sustained Jim’s mother Isabella during her husband’s absence. His dad’s relatives, who lived nearby, did “lots of visiting.” There was also a close neighbour, Mrs. Hickey, who would have done anything for the young Miller family, Jim recalls.
Otherwise, as a homemaker, Isabella was quite independent, even if she never learned to drive. She was quite frugal, too. (When asked whether his mother ever needed any financial help, Mr. Miller quipped, “she was a Scot.”)
One wonders how she was able to hide her apprehension about her husband. Her own father, John Rodger, had served in the British Expeditionary Force during the Great War, and died in 1915, leaving behind a widow and eight children (including Isabella).
And indeed, James Miller almost didn’t make it home. At one point in the war, he was scheduled to fly from Gibraltar to Britain, but had to give up his seat to a higher-ranking officer. Later, he learned that that plane was downed.
Jim remembers nothing about his dad’s return from the war in 1945 – just that there was no apparent strain or conflict. But he does recall the benefits, such as they were: Shortly after his father returned to his old job, a dog turned up at the house as a present for the Miller boys. Then, there was the arrival of wooden propeller that James had shipped from overseas. He’d planned to place the propeller above the fireplace in the home he intended to build along the St. Lawrence River, but that never happened. Eventually, his son donated it to the Saskatoon Aviation Museum.
Like John Wadland, Jim also has a stack of letters exchanged between his parents during the war. But he still can’t bring himself to read them.
John Henry English returned to see his son in May, 1946, but many of his comrades were not so lucky.Supplied
For John English, Jim Miller and John Wadland, their fathers returned. Thousands of others did not. Some might even say that the three young boys were lucky because their fathers did not see combat; they did not come back with physical wounds or what is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder.
But it rankles John Wadland whenever someone suggests that men like his father were not really in the war – that they’d had it “soft.” He maintains that his dad faced some “dicey situations,” but more importantly, he contributed in his own way to the Canadian war effort. Yes, his father’s story “falls in a different orbit” from those who fought, but he has “the greatest respect” for his war service.
For his part, John English knows his dad had “a good war.” But that doesn’t take away from his service in uniform. Since his dad’s death, he regards his war duty “as part of my life … who I am.”
Jim Miller is equally proud of his dad and reaches for words such as “praiseworthy” and “admirable” to describe his decision to go to war. There’s not a hint of resentment about the fact that his dad was away during his first few years of life.
He will never forget, though, how his mother would openly cry while listening to Remembrance Day services on the radio. Even though her husband had safely returned, her father would always remain among the missing from the Great War.
What’s striking about all three fathers is that there was no past military participation in their families. Their decision – to “beat the bad guys,” in English’s words – was not rooted in any military tradition. They put their lives on hold, even at the cost of leaving behind their expectant partners and families. And by doing so, the children of the war made sacrifices, too.
Editor’s note: A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that Winston Churchill's quote about the "end of the beginning" referred to D-Day. He was describing the Allies' victory in Egypt in 1942. This version has been updated. (June 4, 2024) This article was further updated to clarify the chronology of events following Churchill's statement about the "end of the beginning".