Just a gal from Glidden: Understanding ourselves through family history

It was ten years ago. I ran the newspaper in Gull Lake, Saskatchewan, and got prepared to put together our Remembrance Day edition. As I have done this year, I had requested that people send us pictures and brief write-ups of family members who have served. I got that and a whole lot more. It is what ultimately has turned into a passion for me over the past decade.

Lynne Downey dropped off old clippings from the Gull Lake Advance dating from 1930-1946. I had access to the archived papers, but only from 1947 onward as a flood had destroyed them.

Lynne’s grandmother, Anna, saved these clipping in a scrapbook. It was evident that the articles had special meaning to her. Anna’s scrapbook was filled with World War II clippings, wedding and birth announcements, sports stories, and other important things to the Downey household.

As I flipped through the pages, I saw my family’s history before my eyes.

I was familiar with stories that my Mom had told me about her time in Gull Lake as a little girl, but somehow when I saw these things in print, it took on a new perspective.

There was a wedding announcement for my great Aunt Erna. “Little Beverley Ann Maclennan (my Mom) was the flower girl. A thank you note to the Gull Lake Ladies Social Club for the Christmas package from my Grandfather Neil Maclennan and other Gull Lake men filled an entire page. An article of my great Uncle Ian receiving the Distinguished Flying Medal, which I have reprinted here. Then there was the tragic write-up of my great Uncle Bruce, who was killed in action at the tender age of 21.

When I purchased the newspaper in Gull Lake back in 2009, I tried to convince myself that I belonged in the community, knowing that my family had a history in the town. It wasn’t until I was able to see evidence of how important the community of Gull Lake was to my family and how important my family was to the community of Gull Lake that it really hit me. I did belong.

It is now ten years later and I feel like I have come full circle with starting Your West Central Voice.

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My great Uncle, Ian Maclennan, joined the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II and eventually became one of the war’s great Spitfire aces.

He was featured a few years ago on the History Channel in Norm Christie’s “Battlefield Mysteries” series when Christie spoke about many aspects of WWII history related to “The Siege of Malta.”

The Siege of Malta began in 1940, but it wasn’t until the arrival of the RAF Spitfire Squadrons in 1942 that the air war advantage swung in favour of the Allies. Later in the war, Uncle Ian would fly as air support during the invasion of Normandy. He would be shot down over France and captured, ending his fight in a German prison camp.

Uncle Ian was in Malta for nearly a year and fought numerous sky battles. There were five squadrons of eight planes apiece. He and his fellow pilots took turns flying them in shifts. Sometimes the Spitfires would be up for a whole day with just enough time between sorties to land, refuel, re-load, change off pilots and get them back in the sky hunting for German bombers or fighters again.

My uncle didn’t like to think back too much on those brutal days he flew over Malta, where he and his fellow pilots were always in the mode of kill or be killed every time they went up. I had a chance to talk with him about it when he returned to Gull Lake for its Centennial celebration in 2011.

After Germany retreated from North Africa, the Siege of Malta came to an end. Ian transferred back to England to prepare for the eventual invasion of Normandy. He recalled the anticipation amongst Canadian forces waiting to go ashore at Juno Beach, remembering how the failed raid at Dieppe was on every Canadian soldier’s mind as D-Day approached ever closer.

“The Canadians got screwed at Dieppe,” he said. “Normandy was revenge for us. No one tried to stop us in the air at Juno Beach. Any Luftwaffe that showed up, they were knocked down just like that. But I got shot down and spent nearly a year in a German prison camp.”

When my reporter asked Ian if he was proud of his service during the war, he didn’t think the word “proud” was appropriate to describe his feelings.

“Proud? I wouldn’t say anything like that strong. We had a job to do; I guess you could say I’m content with my service. I did the job I was asked to do.”

I am proud to call him my great uncle. He passed away in 2013 at the age of 94.

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