KAWARTHA LAKES-Henry (Harry) McCabe grew up in a Scottish military family. When the Second World War broke out, his father, Henry (Hennie) wanted to serve his country and enlisted, even though he was only 16. He was an athletic youth and had been working with his father (also named Henry) delivering coal, which may have helped him pass for being older than he was. When he was 17, his officers realized that he had “misspoke” about his age, he was discharged, but was back in uniform when he turned 18. At age 17, he also married Ina Scrimogeor, who was a year younger.
The McCabe family lived in Dundee and Hennie joined the Black Watch, which was the local battalion. He was soon transferred to the 5th Battalion of the Highland Light Infantry, which became part of the 52nd Lowland Division. This unit landed at Ostend in Belgium and helped to liberate Antwerp, a port city. As Hennie was serving in the British Army it advanced into Germany. His wife was then expecting a child, and he had heard that the birth would take place around April 7. On that fateful day, Hennie was wounded with shrapnel from a grenade. “He would say it would be a heck of a thing if one McCabe came into the world on the same day that another one went out of it.” Harry would actually be born later that month, as his father was convalescing in hospital.
When Hennie arrived at the military hospital, “they told him to go down the hall and find a room with an empty bed in it. When he found one, he was surprised that many people in the room were ones that he had served with, who had been wounded before him.” Hennie was injured shortly before the British Army liberated the Belsen-Bergen concentration camp—so he was not one of the soldiers who would personally witness the atrocities there, but some of his friends did and would tell him about the horrific piles of bodies. Hennie would hear about it like everyone else as the shocking news spread. After the war ended, he would visit the site—by then the dead were buried and buildings burned.
Hennie was still in the hospital when the war ended and was photographed on VE Day holding a beer in one hand with another almost to his mouth. He remained in Germany as part of the British forces occupying the country until 1947, and while he was there, he became friends with some German soldiers who had also served during the war, and would continue to correspond with them after returning to Scotland.
When he returned to Scotland, Hennie continued to serve in his local unit, the Black Watch, which had been deployed to North Africa during the recent war. Harry went with his father to attend some of the functions and remembered seeing Pipe Major Rob Roy, the Piper of Tobruk. This military hero had been playing the bagpipes to inspire his unit as they marched into battle to help relieve a besieged garrison at Tobruk, Libya. Twice he was hit by a bullet, but got back on his feet and continued to play to inspire the unit. After he was hit a third time, he continued to play as he laid on the ground. Harry was a boy when he had the opportunity to meet the Piper of Tobruk, and it was a memory that would stick with him.
The McCabe family moved to Canada in 1957, when Harry was twelve years old. “My father wanted to come over sooner but circumstances prevented this. Times were tough in Scotland after the war. I remember when mother went to buy chocolate she had to take a ration book with her.”
Once they moved to Toronto, Hennie continued to take an interest in the military, and they continued to attend events at the legion and armouries in their new community. Harry grew up hearing stories of funny things that happened while his father was serving overseas—but rarely would soldiers speak about their own actions in combat. One day in April 1961, while Harry was being a boisterous youth at University Armoury, a sergeant major came up to him and asked if I was there to bugger around or join? Then he took me to meet Sergeant Marcel Dorion, who was the recruiting non-commissioned officer (NCO). He was a World War II veteran and had been captured at Hong Kong and spent years in a Japanese POW Camp. He gave me my paperwork and I enlisted a week before my sixteenth birthday. Because I was so young, my parents had to sign too. Later on, Marcel became a good friend and mentor. The sergeant major was Sid Byatt, who also became a good friend and mentor of mine.” Like his father before him, Harry had joined the army as a teenager, and he would go on to serve his country for 49 years.
When he enlisted in the 3rd Battalion of the Queen’s Own Rifles, his Scottish mother was really upset as she expected that his uniform would include a kilt, only to have Hennie point out that even in the Highland Light Infantry they had worn trews (pants) in their dress uniform. Being in the military taught Harry discipline—at the time he was still a secondary school student. He had to keep his uniform looking its best, polishing his boots, wearing weights in the bottom of his pants so they would look sharp on parade, and using puttees to hold the pants tightly to his boots so the weights would not fall out.
On his first day, Hennie helped his son prepare, showing him how to press the uniform properly. “The first night I went down, the Sergeant Major came up and asked if I was in the British Army. My dad had pressed the uniform to have pleats at the back, which was standard in the British Army, but not in Canada. The Sergeant Major said that he liked how it looked.”
“The day before my 16th birthday was the regiment’s 101st birthday, which was celebrated at a dinner at the Royal York Hotel the following Saturday. At the dinner they asked everyone who had served in the Boer War to stand up. Then those from the First World War, then those who had served in the Second World War. In my early years in the Queen’s Own Rifles, the majority of our officers and senior NCOs were veterans of the Second World War or the Korean War. There were still some members who had served in the First World War. Living through all of these hard times, had made them strong and taught them how to be resilient. That is something that they tried to pass on to us.”
Like his comrades, Harry learned to be proud of the unit that he served in: “We were the Queen’s Own Rifles. Our officers and NCOs talked about the regiment’s history. We wore our dark green dress uniforms, which made us distinct at the time. Even our rank badges were different. As a rifleman you learn to think for yourself. The average regiment marches at 120 paces per minute. The Queen’s Own marched at 140 paces per minute, and we were trained to be able to march at 180 paces per minute, which was practically jogging. We thought of ourselves as the Queen’s Own, we were the best.”
In peace time, being a member of the 3rd Battalion of the Queen’s Own Rifles was not a full-time job—but it was a considerable commitment. They were paid for their service, but “the pay was not the best, and it would not pay as much as you could make if you had a job instead. In fact, we only got paid three times a year unless you went on course or to summer camp. We certainly were not doing it for the pay—we were there to serve our country. Everyone up to the commanding officer was typically part time—with the exception of some clerks who would work all week long. When I joined the commanding officer was Lieutenant-Colonel Glenn McIver, who was D-Day Veteran he was also a teacher at Danforth Technical School. At that time, you had to retire at 50 or 55—if you were an officer, you could parade until you were 55. It was later changed to 60 then 65 for all ranks.”
“We would serve two nights a week and one weekend a month. We travelled to Niagara-on-the-Lake, Camp Borden or occasionally Petawawa for our weekend training. We conducted military training, drill, weapons handling, etc., in the evenings. Courses and military infantry exercises would normally be conducted on weekends. Eventually I took my qualification courses to become a sergeant. We received all sorts of training. We learned how to rappel off cliffs and how to get through obstacles like barbed wire. We learned to fire a rifle, Sten Gun (now called a submachine gun), machine guns and grenades.”
“We were trained to operate a mortar, with a practice bomb that was solid steel—for most of our training they did not use high explosive. When we were training on the range, you would be taught to put your head down when you fired the mortar (some people would be inclined to look down the barrel to see that the bomb landed, which could have deadly consequences). As your head was beside the barrel when it fired, the explosion was very loud, which is why I have hearing aids today—we did not have hearing protection until the 1970s. We would have a target, and would learn how to change the angle of the mortar to hit it. Later on, we learned how to operate a rocket launcher (Americans would call it a Bazooka)—you had to look along the barrel as you aimed it.
“On Monday evening we would go down for training. We would receive lectures or be on the parade square. On Wednesday night, in addition, to normal infantry training, we would have a formal parade—the commanding officer would be there and the band would play.” Initially they trained at the University Armoury, but after it was demolished, they moved to the new armoury at Moss Park. During their training they would march in uniform in downtown Toronto. “We received in-classroom lectures on how to handle a weapon, how to clean, strip and fire it. We had indoor ranges where we would practice firing the weapons. We took courses on military law. Sometimes on Wednesday, we would go up to the Don Valley for exercises.”
“When I first enlisted, I was a Rifleman (the lowest rank was not called a private in the Queen’s Own Rifles) and I was learning infantry skills and doing combat exercises. The first summer when I went to camp in 1961, everyone was afraid that there would be an atomic bomb attack. We were in Niagara-on-the-Lake doing National Survival Training, practicing how to do rescues after an atomic bomb had been dropped. I remember being lowered down on a stretcher from buildings or cliffs. At that time, much of the planning was related to the Russian threat. We all thought that at some point there might be another World War—this time nuclear. Thank God there was not!”
The year after Harry enlisted, “we received a letter informing us that we should be prepared to be deployed during the Cuban Missile Crisis. We would again be on standby during the FLQ Crisis [Front de Liberation du Quebec]. We were always training so that we would be ready if we had to go. We took our training very seriously. But it was a much more peaceful time then. Canadian soldiers were deployed around the world on UN peacekeeping missions, but, unlike today, the Reserves were not normally deployed for the same direct combat operations, like Afghanistan.” For his entire 49-year career, Harry was always ready to serve, but never actually deployed to a combat situation. One of his friends Sargeant Don Peers did volunteer to join the American Army to fight in Vietnam, was injured, then did not return to serve in the Canadian military afterwards. In Vietnam, “he didn’t feel like things were under control and they didn’t have the support that they needed.” Don in later years became a member of Royal Canadian Legion Branch 239 in Bobcaygeon.
For all the years that Harry took part in training exercises—some of them live fire—things almost always went according to plan and were safe. But then there were the exceptional circumstances. Once while training on a firing range, one of the soldiers had an epileptic fit, and everyone was afraid he would mistakenly fire on his comrades, so Harry and sergeant Jerry Senetchko jumped on him and held him down until the fit subsided.
In 1971, Harry was at Camp Borden Toronto Militia District Exercise and was assigned as the throwing bay instructor. He would advise soldiers how to throw the grenade. For the exercise they were in a cement block throwing bay, and the soldier was supposed to pull the pin on the grenade and throw it over the wall, out of the bay. That day all the soldiers participating who had thrown cleared the grenade over the wall, but this time when the new soldier threw the grenade it hit the wall it bounced back towards them. As the instructor, it was Harry’s job to be attentive and make sure the grenade cleared the wall. “When you hear the command, you get ready, then you hear the command to throw. I would be watching his hand as he threw, and saw it hit the wall. When something goes wrong, you don’t try to throw the grenade out. There was a four second fuse on them, that’s how you could get killed or badly wounded. I was trying to get him out of there, but he fell, so I jumped on him. The grenade went off, it filled the chamber up with smoke and set off two other grenades, which blew a hole on the wall of the bay. If we had got out like we had intended, we would have been hit by the blocks that were blown out of the wall.” For his actions, Harry received The Order of Military Merit which is a solid silver cross encased in blue enamel. The decoration was presented in 1973 by Governor General Roland Michener at the very first presentation of this decoration.
When the accident happened, the range Commander called down to see if everyone was OK in the throwing bay. “We said we were fine, but it affects me even today, I still get flashbacks. At the time, you heard of soldiers having shell shock, but you thought it was something that only affected soldiers serving in wars. Years later I was diagnosed with PTSD. You did not get help for that back then. Today they would say that you need help, and would send you to a psychologist to make sure that you are OK. I did not tell Gail about the incident when I got home that weekend as she was eight months pregnant. However, the next weekend, when we were at a military function, I went to talk to the Sargeant’s Mess President while Gail spoke with the other wives. He told me there had been another accident at the range. The soldier throwing the grenade had his arm blown off and the instructor was killed. They said they were thankful that didn’t happen to me and Gail asked if there was something that I had been meaning to tell her.”
The only time that Harry was called to serve was to help with “a huge traffic accident in Mississauga under Aid of a Civil Power. Myself and Corporal Al Wilson just happened to be there, driving home and were in uniform. The Ontario Provincial Police officer asked us to go and check if everyone was OK in each of the cars. One of the victims had his head through the windshield, another had a steering wheel through his stomach. There was a taxi driver, who still had his eyes open, and there was not a scratch on him, but he had died. We did the best we could to help everyone. But when I got home, my hands were shaking from the trauma of that event because of what I had witnessed and because there was blood and gore on my uniform.”
In 1970, Harry was promoted to Master Warrant officer and appointed Company Sergeant Major (responsible for supervising all non officers in the company), then in 1980 he became a Regimental Sergeant Major (responsible for supervising all non officers in the regiment). In 1985, he became the Sergeant Major for the Toronto Militia District. He was then appointed to become the Standard Chief Warrant Officer, for the Central Militia Area and was responsible for ensuring that the standards for training were maintained by all the militia regiments in Ontario. This eventually was made into a full-time job, which Harry couldn’t accept due to his full-time day job at IBM. As a result, Harry transferred to the Cadet Instructors Cadre (CIC) and was promoted to Captain.
He eventually was promoted to Major and was appointed as the CIC Branch Advisor for all Cadet Corps & Squadrons in Ontario and responsible to ensure policies and practices were maintained.
By the late 1980s, when Harry was overseeing training, things had substantially changed from the era when he was a new recruit. “Up to the late 1960s, we were still wearing the same battle dress that had been worn during World War II. We were issued one uniform for summer and another for winter. There were many weapons that the regular soldiers had that we did not have in the reserves. We were not issued combat boots, so I went to the army surplus store (which in that era was actually selling surplus military kit, but not weapons) to buy a pair of boots for training exercises so I could save the boots I was issued for parade. I bought an old Tilley hat that I would wear on the range to protect my face from the sun while we were training. Today, it is very different and Reserves receive the same uniforms and equipment issued to the Regular Force. Back then soldiers in the regular forces would say ‘You are just militia,’ but there is much more mutual respect today. Everyone is working together to protect the country. Today the equipment issued is much better than it was in the 1960s.”
Hennie, who had served in the Second World War, did not return to visit the former battle sites. Starting in 1974, Harry had the chance to travel to Normandy for the 30th, 40th, 50th and 80th anniversaries of D-Day. On D-Day the Queen’s Own Rifles had landed on Juno Beach, and as a Chief Warrant Officer in that unit, Harry was part of the ceremonies. As he was standing on the beach in Normandy, he thought about his father’s service. “Thinking, My God, what a horrendous experience it was. The Queen’s Own Rifles suffered nearly 150 casualties in the initial attack. They were the only unit which captured all of their D-Day objectives making the Canadians the only Country that did so. There is a famous house on the beaches that the Queen’s Own liberated on D Day. The owners eventually named it Maison de Queen’s Own Rifles. Today it is also called la Maison des Canadiens. We visited the cemetery and paid tribute to all those valiant soldiers from the Queen’s Own and casualties from the other Regiments who also landed. In subsequent years we returned and visited Holland. The Dutch had Canadian flags on each grave, with a candle on each. While we were there, helicopters flew over dropping thousands of poppies that blanketed the graveyards. Our Dutch hosts would say ‘Thank You Canada.’ To this day in Holland, they are still grateful. It makes you proud to be a Canadian to see what those guys went through, and the appreciation of the Dutch who were liberated.”
“When I went over, I was with a veteran named Tony, who took me to the place where he lost his leg. Other veterans were telling me about their friends who were killed. When I went back in 1974, there were 40 or 50 D-Day veterans in the Queen’s Own Rifles. There were not nearly so many by the 50th Anniversary, and very few left by the 80th anniversary. They all felt the pride for what they had gone through—they survived the Depression and all those horrendous actions, fighting their way through the Netherlands and liberating so many people. I never heard any of them saying that they regret doing it. They were proud to be veterans. My dad was proud of his service and would parade with the Legion. We were a tiny country in population at that time, and we were able to liberate so many people.”
On Remembrance Day, we often think of the veterans that served overseas during the World Wars and all of the soldiers who would never return. This year, at the Bobcaygeon Legion Remembrance Day Service while could have veterans that joined after the conflict, we likely will have few if any veterans of the Second World War due to their advanced age. There was a time when that service was a common experience for members of the Legion. Whether they had served in North Africa, Italy, Western Europe or the Pacific, these veterans could relate their common experiences, which is now passing from living memory. There was a time when practically everyone either was a veteran, or had a close relative who was—now many people do not know someone who has served overseas. All of the soldiers who have served in the Canadian military over the years, whether in peace time or during times of conflict have contributed to keeping Canadians safe, giving everyone else the opportunity to enjoy all the privileges that ares so often taken for granted.
“I spent 49 years serving in the military and, retired as a Major. Sometimes I think about how much time I was away while Gail was raising the kids. I really appreciated her support, and everything she did to give me the chance to serve my country. We certainly were not doing it for the pay; we were doing it because it was something that was important for our country. We gave up a large proportion of our lives so we could protect our country if we were needed.” With all of the geo-political tensions of today, about 90,000 Canadians are enlisted to be ready to defend their country if needed, carrying on the traditions of service from previous generations like Harry and his father.
Lest We Forget.
The Bobcaygeon Legion will be commemorating Remembrance Day on November 11 at the Cenotaph. Arrival time is 10:30 am with the service beginning at 10:45 am and refreshments to follow at the Legion.
The Fenelon Falls Legion will be celebrating the 25th anniversary of its candlelight service this year on November 10. Candles are available for purchase at Branch 238. The parade will meet at Slices and Scoops at 6:30 pm. On November 11, the service will be at 11 am at the cenotaph. That evening the Legion will host cocktails at 5 pm, followed by a Remembrance Day dinner at 6.
This story is a memory and memories aren’t perfect. Sometimes details get a little mixed up, things get forgotten or overlooked, and the perspective is inevitably subjective. If you notice something that’s not right, have something you would like to tell us, or a memory to share the museum would be happy to hear from you: curator@maryboro.ca
This story is part of our partnership with Maryboro Lodge, The Fenelon Falls Museum and was written by Glenn Walker.
If you want to make a donation to the museum, you can e-transfer to: curator@maryboro.ca or mail a cheque to :
Maryboro Lodge Museum
Box 179
50 Oak Street
Fenelon Falls, ON
K0M 1N0
