Letters in Wartime: Teaching the life of Harry G. Dickson, Jr. RCAF

Kristen Jeanveau

Collection of materials from the file of Harry George Dickson R/18077. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

For the last two years, I have been a Graduate Teaching Assistant for History 1810: Wars that Changed the World at Western University. For many students, the world wars are a remote experience, long out of living memory. This presents a challenge for a first-year survey course: how should the wars be presented to balance the broad implications of the conflict with microhistory case-studies that offer a deeper look at specific lived experiences?[1] I firmly believe the goal of a history course is not to instill rote memorization of dates and names. As an educator, I am more interested in hearing what questions the students will raise with the content that we present. My goal in the classroom is to foster a sense of curiosity about the World Wars and engage with the students collaboratively to develop our understanding of this contested past, and I try to achieve this through frequent use of material culture studies.

The History Department at Western University is lucky to hold the Ley and Lois Smith War, Memory, and Culture Research Collection and Wartime Canada archives, maintained by my supervisor, Dr. Jonathan Vance. With this access, I make regular use of newspapers, photos, maps, medals, sheet music, military gear, postcards, and letters from their holdings in the classroom. I have observed students who were hesitant to contribute to standard tutorial discussions become engaged when they handle surgical implements from our medical artefact collection, or function as detectives researching the authors of postcards from the First World War. Likewise, more than one student has shared the story of their relative’s military service while examining medals from the Second World War and asking if they could take a photo for their family as they look “just like the ones my great grandfather had.”

Over the last three years, I have presented a material culture workshop titled “Letters in wartime: the Life of Harry G. Dickson Jr. RCAF” to over two hundred students. I provide students with a series of letters and personal effects from Harry George Dickson Jr., a nineteen-year-old man who attended South Collegiate High School in London, Ontario and enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) shortly after graduation in 1939. As part of the workshop, the students follow Harry’s journey from an Ontario training camp in the spring of 1940, across the Atlantic to England, then finally to the skies over Germany in 1941.They explore his personal effects – photos, a treasured watch, and the medals he accrued. The students share the content of their letters in pairs and, in the latter half of the session, we collaboratively construct a biography of Harry.

Harry George Dickson Jr. RCAF. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

Harry’s story is emblematic of many English Canadians who enlisted during the Second World War. Harry was born in London Ontario on 7 Nov 1920 and was the oldest of four children born to his parents Jean and Harry Sr. His father was a chaplain in the First World War, and while our archive holds several of his letters from that conflict, Harry never discussed whether his father’s service influenced his own decision to enlist. A reference letter from Harry’s principal at London South Collegiate Institute indicates he completed courses in English, Canadian history, Algebra, and Physics; while also noting he failed Ancient History, Geometry, Chemistry and French. Despite his spotty academic record, his principal believed that his education coupled with Harry’s “extensive career in athletics” (in this case, rugby) gave him the equivalent experience of a junior matriculation.[2] Harry enlisted with the  RCAF on 14 September 1939, and began writing his letters in the spring of 1940 while training at Camp Borden.

Letter to Jean Dickson 15 May 1941. File of Harry George Dickson R/18077. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

During the workshop, I provide typewritten copies of the letters with some basic annotations and stress the importance of handling the letters themselves by looking at the handwritten pages and envelopes. As precious as these letters may be as historical artefacts, they also need to be put into context as a record of the daily life of Harry’s family. The physicality of the letters offers a window into the lives of Harry and his family: they are stained, used to jot down grocery lists, or adorned with hastily scrawled notes on the back. For example, a letter written by Jean Jr. to her mother indicated she was out with her friend Dorothy, would be back for dinner, and—no—the mailman had not brought new letters from Harry yet.[3] The letters and artifacts allow the students to make deep insights in unintended ways. One student confidently asserted, without seeing Harry’s service file, that he was a “scrawny guy” – he figured this out by trying on Harry’s watch and noticing how many links were removed. Paired with Harry’s constant requests for chocolate, cigarettes, and money, an observation of that type leads us to a discussion of wartime rationing, conceptions of mid-century body image, masculinity, and a host of other directions. Another student connected a “Mr. Freeman” referenced in one letter to the photo caption of his high school rugby team that I displayed; he was Harry’s coach, and that was a detail that escaped my notice.[4]

Photo of Harry’s squadron c. 1941. File of Harry George Dickson R/18077. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

Harry’s initial letters alternate between boredom while in flight training school to reflections on his contributions to the war effort, remarking: “They are really giving us important material now & it makes me feel very proud to know that at least I’m really doing something for my country & knowing they are depending on me to uphold what they are teaching me.”[5] Harry had the same usual gripes and complaints that many young adults relate to even now: worry over passing his exams, running short of spending money, or ensuring that the girl he was interested in back home received a dashing photo of him beaming with his crewmates in front of a bomber.[6] Despite some initial setbacks in his morse code testing result, Harry did pass his exams and by 3 January 1941 was reporting to his mother that he had spent a wild New Year’s Eve in Glasgow dancing all night before heading down to London. While there he informed her about the ‘real’ experiences of the Blitz: “We are still trying to get used to the black-outs but that will come in time. Have been to London several times & still a grand place – don’t believe all the newspapers and their accounts of the terrible damage – all exaggerated!!!”[7]

By May 1941, Harry considers himself a seasoned veteran after five months of active service:

“We are making up for the damage the Jerry are doing in London and Liverpool & I only wish I could tell you of some of the experiences so far. I’m getting (that is the whole crew) to be ‘vets’ now on this job. (Lots) of new crews coming into the station kind of look at us for advice and ask us question after question as to the things to look out for etc. Makes one feel rather important at times. It doesn’t seem so long ago that we were asking the same questions.”[8]

A letter from June 1941 recounts his leave in Scotland where he went rabbit hunting with crewmate George Henson. Harry expressed regret, but not surprise, that they were unable to find the Loch Ness monster. As the letters progress, the reality of the war intrudes into the content, and Harry lapses into sobering accounts of his experiences. Shortly after his Scotland trip, he shares that five of his “chums from Jarvis and Hamilton” crashed on their way back to the base and their funeral was earlier that day. He reflects: “I hadn’t meant to tell you about this but I know you won’t connect it with anything that might happen to me. It’s just the breaks of the game Mom & they had a bad break that’s all.”[9] This admission, along with Harry’s observations on London, provide the students an opportunity to consider not only what government censorship was imposed on his letters for security reasons, but what sort of self-censorship Harry was employing to manage both his own emotional reactions and those of his mother.

Harry’s last letter sent 10 Aug 1941. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

The penultimate pair of students are given a letter with a small notation in red pen on the front of the envelope: “Junior’s last letter.” Together they discover that on 13 Aug 1941, Harry’s plane was shot down over Germany while on a bombing mission. A collection of telegrams, newspaper clippings, and letters from the YMCA Auxiliary over the following three months narrate the initial hope that had survived and was a POW. The last pair of students receives a series of letters from Harry’s family and documents from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. Over the course of seven years from 1942 to 1949, Harry’s mother desperately seeks closure and the proper burial of her son after he is confirmed dead. She makes connections with the Canadian parents of her son’s crewmate George Henson who also died and his distant Scottish relatives as well. In a letter to Jean, George’s great aunt recalls Harry as a polite young man that visited in the summer of 1941, and that he and George were inordinately pleased with their rabbit-hunting results after a few rounds of golf. Just as Harry’s letters show how he communicated the emotional complexities of the war, Jean’s letters depict a woman making international connections to negotiate her own grief.

Telegram to Jean Dickson regarding her missing son Harry. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

Finally, in 1949, the Commonwealth War Graves Commission confirms they identified Harry’s remains and relocated him to Hanover War Cemetery. His parents chose a popular epitaph from the First World War: “At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember him.”[10] In conducting this workshop, the past becomes present for the students. It is a culmination of the skills they are building such as searching for military records, finding the context for content in the wartime correspondence, or making observations about the physical state of the artefacts and what it could tell us about the sender or recipient. My hope is that they establish personal empathy with the past and realize that, despite living 85 years ago, Harry’s shared experiences resonate with their lives. I also want that empathy to be critical, however, and avoid overtly lionizing Harry as a subject, as that can be an easy trap to fall into when conducting this type of research. As exceptional as Harry’s experiences may seem to them, a quick look at the South Collegiate Institute yearbook for 1946 displays a total of nine hundred students or alumni who enlisted, and sixty that ‘paid the ultimate price.’ This realization is why I emphasize microhistory as a valuable tool in a survey course: students develop an intimate familiarity with one soldier but hopefully realize Harry’s experiences can be extrapolated to a clearer understanding of the war.

Kristen Jeanveau is a PhD student at Western University. Their research focuses on British community press in the Second World War, particularly in London Underground shelters during the Blitz.

All Photos by Kristen Jeanveau from the file of Harry George Dickson R/18077. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

Links:
Commonwealth War Graves Commission – Harry George Dickson
Library and Archives Canada – Harry George Dickson Jr.
Wartime Canada
Ley and Lois Smith War Memory and Popular Culture Archive

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[1] Strictly speaking, the learning outcomes of the course as developed by my supervisor Dr. Jonathan F. Vance state that “students will gain an appreciation of the fundamental role of war in shaping history and society” while also developing “a sense of how to spot a really well-made sandwich.” If you need an entertaining way to gauge if they have read the syllabus, this is it.

[2] Letter from J.S.H Graham 17 November 1939. File of Harry George Dickson R/18077. Courtesy of the Ley and Lois Smith War Memory, and Culture Research Collection, Western University.

[3] Several students have made the connection that Harry requested the “best snap” of him in his uniform be sent to “D.O.” Could it be that he was sweet on his sister’s friend Dorothy?

[4] Letter to Jean Dickson from Harry G. Dickson Jr. 26 March 1941.

[5] Letter to Jean Dickson from Harry G. Dickson Jr. 3 September 1940.

[6] Which somehow, against all odds, appears to have landed in a field and sidled up to two young Land Army Girls milking a cow. Entirely a coincidence, I am sure.

[7] Letter to Jean Dickson from Harry G. Dickson Jr. 03 January 1941.

[8] Letter to Jean Dickson from Harry G. Dickson Jr. 15 May 1941.

[9] Letter to Jean Dickson from Harry G. Dickson Jr. 06 June 1941.

[10] Commonwealth War Graves Commission. https://www.cwgc.org/find-records/find-war-dead/casualty-details/2198554/harry-george-dickson/