Lest We Forget

Remembering Papa

Dr. Clifford Whitton Forsyth

My grandfather was a medical doctor and flight lieutenant in the Canadian Air force during WWII. He had curly dark hair and bright blue eyes. He was stationed in London, UK during the London bombings. He treated mainly burn victims. When he was coming home on the Queen Elizabeth, the Germans reported that they bombed and sank the ship. My grandmother, Josephine, was waiting in Halifax with two little girls (my mom, Sandra and Aunt, Penelope) when she heard this tragic news. Her sorrow and terror wasn’t to be. The Germans lied. The ship was not bombed. The ship was shot at but missed. My grandfather made it home alive and safe.

Doctors were in short supply out in Western Canada. He and his family (including little Sandra—my mom) left Eastern Canada to start a new life. They arrived first in small town Saskatchewan—Vicroy. My grandfather was the town’s only doctor. He was kept busy. No one had any money during the war so sometimes he was paid in chickens and eggs.

Later, the Forsyths relocated to Alberta—High River and Calgary. This is where they raised their six children. I visited my grandparents each summer in High River—I adored visiting that town. Their home was full of love and wonder. I miss them. My grandfather’s favorite T.V. show was M.A.S.H.—easy to understand why.

I honour my grandparents today (and all soldiers), for their sacrifices and efforts to stop Hitler and his nasty regime. Thank-you, Papa and Granny.

*It is interesting to note that during WWII, my paternal grandmother, Lydia Mix Hart, hid that her first language was German (she was born in Bessarabia; though, her grandparents originated from North-East Europe, along the Baltic Sea). She emigrated to small town Alberta,where she and my Grandfather, Edward Hart owned the town’s hotel. My grandmother never spoke German and she didn’t even tell my father that German was her first language.