A series of posts about important people long ago whose names are either forgotten, or were never well-known in the first place. The posts may also deal with little known aspects of the lives of famous people no longer alive.
NO HEROICS PLEASE
Given my politics it may sound surprising, but the most ethical man I have ever met was a military officer in the Royal Canadian Regiment. He also happened to be my father-in-law. Most of this post will be specifically about him and his family, and his highly unusual life, but first a paragraph about the Canadian military for context.
The heavy emphasis at Canadian Remembrance Day ceremonies is on the hellishness of war, how sometimes it is a necessary evil. The psychological ravages of war are openly acknowledged. There is no talk of glorious heroics or of winning imperialistic wars. The ceremonies are multi-lingual, secular, and participatory, and there is as much respect for the stellar reputation of Canadian peacekeepers (whose job is to get in the way of lethal force without retaliation) as there is for the fighting units. The Father of Modern Peacekeeping is Nobel Peace Laureate and former Prime Minister of Canada Lester B. Pearson. The Canadian government thinks long and hard before entering a conflict, refusing to fight in the Iraq War initiated by President Bush in 2003, as well as refusing to fight in the Vietnam War in the 1960’s. Prime Minister Trudeau (the first one, Pierre), vocally opposed the war and mocked President Nixon for fighting it, and Nixon hated Pierre with a vengeance for doing so (Pierre was also a friend of Fidel Castro, visiting Cuba often with his family, including young Justin Trudeau. That may have also infuriated Nixon).
WARRANT OFFICER (LATER CAPTAIN) LEO AUSTIN ‘RED’ JOHNSON (1915 – 2014)
My wife Margaret’s mother was a member of the Canadian armed forces and several other family members were also in the armed forces. Of all the military personnel in my wife’s family, however, the most noteworthy, was her father Warrant Officer Leo Austin ‘Red’ Johnson, a career soldier. I’ve heard many a conversation between military people and they don’t talk about fighting and killing and dying. They talk about the cook who never washed his hands, or about the elaborate practical jokes the rank and file used to play on each other in order to maintain their sanity.
LITTLE GIBRALTAR
The battle that raged on Hill 355 during the Korean War came to be known as the Battle of Little Gibraltar to the Canadians who fought and died there. As both sides entered the area at first there was a stalemate with the Chinese using loudspeakers to tell their enemy “Hilltop is grave. Surrender to live”, but nothing much was happening. In October 1952 all that changed. The Chinese forces became much more aggressive and were closing in. It quickly became impossible to withdraw and reorganize. Then several of the command leaders of Company A were incapacitated so CSM Johnson (he was Company Sergeant-Major at the time) stepped up and fought with particular courage and expertise under lengthy and intense fire. The Chinese bombardment continued for almost a fortnight but Johnson and his fellow soldiers kept the Chinese at bay and he maintained order and kept morale high despite almost no sleep. He and his fellow troops managed to halt the Chinese advance long enough until relief arrived in the form of E Company. The Canadians prevailed on Hill 355.
Here is a reference to this action from the official history of the Royal Canadian Regiment (Volume Two, page 253): “CSM L.A. Johnson of A Company, CSM Richard McNally of D Company and CSM G.M. Fox of E Company all showed outstanding qualities of leadership throughout the battle”. For his leadership under fire Johnson was personally awarded The Military Medal by Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh himself. E Company was led by a man named CSM George Fox. As it turned out Johnson and Fox were friends. Leo Johnson was the father of the bride at our wedding and George Fox was in attendance. Years later I had occasion to visit George, then in his nineties, and I noticed on his wall he kept a large VRI symbolic of The Royal Canadian Regiment, Leo and George both being members of the RCR.
Leo Johnson (who I knew as Red though his red hair had turned silver long since) rarely talked about the war but it never left him. One night his young daughter, later my wife, accidentally woke him up suddenly in the middle of the night and he reflexively struck out catching himself at the last minute before she was hurt. On his death bed shortly before his ninety-ninth birthday Red was also back in Korea evading bombs he thought were exploding in the hospital corridor. The few times he talked about his army career he talked about liking the people of Korea, about good times with an impressive set of Australian soldiers in Korea. He didn’t talk about his own gallantry or the privations of war. Red was also very mischievous and usually had a grin on his face and a wonderful story to tell. He has passed his finely honed storytelling skills on to his daughter Margaret.
To be sure, Red had his imperfections and his blind spots, and was to some extent a product of his time, but he was also a feminist without realizing it, unheard of in his day, quite happy having his wife Marjorie (also a military officer) lead a somewhat independent existence, travelling the world on her own, while raising two children. Red baked the cake at his daughter Margaret’s christening, and he did the housework when his wife was in hospital. He was proud of her determination to pull herself out of grinding poverty, and he wasn’t afraid to tell people how much he admired her intelligence and spirit. More than once Red also expressed particular admiration for the women who historically took the lash and the beatings as they stood in the way of men physically mistreating animals. He also commented sadly on the fact that a man who beat his dog would never be welcome in a foursome of golf, but a man who beat his wife would be deemed acceptable.
Red was an honest, highly-principled, very logical man. He was very good at Statistics and he read and was able to understand some of Margaret’s more advanced statistical work. He was widely-read politically and kept up on all the current news well into his nineties. He was an excellent athlete, excelling in lacrosse, baseball, hockey and golf. He actually achieved an impressive fourteen witnessed holes in one playing golf over the years. We shared a fondness for the Toronto Maple Leafs, trading stories about Johnny Bower, Frank Mahovlich, Red Kelly and Tim Horton back when the Leafs were regularly winning Stanley Cups. Red once played on the same minor hockey team as the legendary Maple Leafs Captain Syl Apps, for heaven’s sake. Red loved animals and had strong feelings about cruelty to animals. He was also a deeply religious Roman Catholic man who nonetheless thought Pope Benedict XVI should step down, voluntarily or otherwise, due to the cover-up by the church of child sexual abuse perpetrated by some members of the clergy. He was solidly, proudly and determinedly working class all his life. He was a religious man in the military with no interest in music, and he knew I was about as opposite of that as one could get, yet he was open-minded enough to judge me by my behaviour and we got along fine. We had many long walks and talks together after his wife died and I treasure the fact that he once bestowed upon me his highest, and rarely bestowed, honour by quietly pronouncing me “solid”.
There’s very little to tell on my side of the family. My own father was a bandleader whose big band played on cruise ships across the Great Lakes and whose jazz combo played in nightclubs across Ontario in the 1930’s and 1940’s. He was a multi-instrumentalist and a composer, and since he was also a pilot he enlisted in the Canadian armed forces during World War Two and before long he was leading an armed forces band entertaining the troops and he even did some armed forces radio broadcasting (after the war he also had his own local radio show in London). My mother was also enlisted, and the two of them were married in uniform in an army camp during World War Two. In our family we never talked about things. I discovered most of this information after their deaths.
DEATH IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC
On Guy Fawkes Day every year my wife and I raise a toast. Not to Guy Fawkes (though, as they say, he was the only man to ever enter the British Houses of Parliament with honest intentions). We toast the men of HMS Jervis Bay, a British convoy escort ship sunk by the German heavy cruiser Admiral Scheer on November 5, 1940 under extraordinary circumstances. We toast the men of the Jervis Bay because my wife has a personal connection with that ship.
THE GHOSTS OF HMS JERVIS BAY
The Jervis Bay was launched in 1922. When World War Two broke out the ship was requisitioned by the Royal Navy as a member of the Merchant Marine, armed with seven BL 152 mm guns and Two QF 76.2 mm guns and sent off to fight the Hun. The ship’s function was to escort convoys in the North Atlantic and in the case of enemy action to do all it can to protect the convoy. On one occasion a convoy of thirty-eight ships encountered a German ship, the Admiral Scheer, about 1398 Kilometres south south-west of Reykjavik, Iceland. In response Captain Fegen of the Jervis Bay ordered the convoy to scatter, and steered the Jervis Bay directly at the Admiral Scheer to draw its fire. The Jervis Bay was completely out-ranged and outgunned by the German ship’s 28 cm guns but it kept going toward the enemy ship anyway in order to distract its fire. The Admiral Scheer’s firepower utterly destroyed the Jervis Bay, Fegen was badly wounded, and many of his men died. Fegen and the surviving crew fought on until their ship was finally sunk and Captain Fegen and the remaining crew, went down with the ship.
The sacrifice of the Jervis Bay allowed most of the convoy to escape. Of the crew of 254 on the Jervis Bay 68 survived, picked up by the neutral ship ‘Stureholm’ out of Sweden. Of those 68 three died shortly after of their wounds. Captain Fegen was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross, the highest honour that can be bestowed on someone in the military in the entire British Commonwealth.
My wife Margaret’s mother, Marjorie, before she met and married Leo Johnson, met one of the crewman of the Jervis Bay, Carpenter’s Mate H.S.G. Lang. Lang, being a carpenter, made a wooden jewelry box for Marjorie and carved her initials into the top. But Lang did not survive the sinking of the Jervis Bay. We also have a photograph of a very young Marjorie MacDermott (her maiden name) with two service men – one is Carpenter’s Mate Lang, and the other is Marjorie’s brother Ralph who was a telegrapher on another convey escort ship patrolling the North Atlantic. Convoy escort duty was a gruelling experience. Not only was death pretty much a daily possibility, but the experience wreaked havoc on one’s health. Margaret’s uncle Ralph had to have more than one hip replacement later as a result of his wartime duty. When Marjorie died she passed the jewelry box on to her daughter Margaret and we still have it in our possession. May the 183 ghosts of the Jervis Bay rest in peace.
For a complete account of this incident, and a celebrated painting illustrating the scene – https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/article/the-heroic-death-of-the-hms-jervis-bay/