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I completed ten cross-country flights in the space of 23 days. Six of these trips were at night and we used a combination of star shots and radio bearings to find our way. Jim Dobie was my flying partner for all flights and we got along well. For the first time we had the advantage of having a wireless operator on board and when the wireless bearings were of good quality, it simplified navigation. Our pilots were RCAF and very cooperative. I was becoming more confident all the time with my navigation and one day in particular I was glad that I was well along with my training. It was June 9 and we took off in sunshine at 1730 hrs. We didn't know there were tornado warnings that day although the air was heavy and humid. Our flight plan took us to the northeast in the vicinity of Lake Winnipeg. We reached the turning point okay and were more than half way home when the skies darkened and the winds began to buffet the sturdy Anson. We made it to Rivers with about five minutes to spare and there were Ansons landing at a record pace. The toronado didn't hit Rivers itself - just heavy rain and high winds. Elsewhere it was a different story and there were Ansons coming down all over southern Manitoba and Saskatchewan and a few in North Dakota. There was one fatal crash killing the crew of four. In our own class, Don Goodfellow and a Welsh chap named Emrys Hopkins crashed and both of them suffered broken bones. I visited them in the base hospital before leaving Rivers. Don's posting overseas was delayed - and unfortunately he went missing on one of the Berlin raids in February 1944. There is a brass plaque in the Brighton Legion in his memory donated by his parents.

I flew my last cross-country flight on the night of June 23, 1942 using astro navigation all the way and with our written exams already completed, it was time to be on our way. There was no formal parade and our logbooks simply indicated a pass or fail grade. Every member of her class did in fact graduate except the two guys were still in hospital recuperating from their crash injuries. The much publicized RAF 1000 plane raids had occurred when we were at Rivers and it surely looked as if the war was heating up. We wanted to get on with the business at hand and most of us drew postings to "Y" Depot at Halifax which meant we were heading overseas. My report date at Halifax was July 12 which gave me two weeks at home. I might mention that I was one of 131,553 (Pilots, Observers, Navigators, Bomb Aimers, Wireless Air Gunners and Air Gunners )who graduated under the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan in Canada. It was a remarkable achievement and little wonder that president Roosevelt referred to the BCATP as the aerodrome of democracy. The graduates were from Great Britain, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and of course Canada. Also there were almost 9000 Americans who enlisted in the RCAF and received their training in Canada. Some returned to the US after Pearl Harbor but many were remained in the RCAF and flew operationally with Canadian or other Commonwealth squadrons.

Before leaving Rivers I said goodbye to all my RAF friends with whom I had trained for 24 weeks. They too were heading overseas but for them it was home. We returned to the East via CPR and what gorgeous scenery it was north of Superior. I arrived home on a Sunday morning and my folks met the Toront train in Port Hope. We returned to the farm via Welcome just as the church congregation was coming out. It was good to see so many of the country people and to be able to thank them personally for the letters, parcels and gifts. In these notes I haven't said much about the support that I received from friends, neighbors, relatives and most all my family. They were terrific and their acts of kindness continued for the full four years.

Before going overseas everybody was granted embarkation leave and the duration varied. |It depended on the availability of shipping and the need for reinforcements. It was a great time to be home and the summer weather was perfect. The strawberries were at their best and it was good to wade into mother's home cooking again. I helped out on the farm but not much. We seemed to be visiting people or having company most the time. We went out to the Austin cottage on Sturgeon Lake and I remember asking my cousin Helen her age. She told me she was eight which she was at that time. It hardly seems possible that this mere child is now an old-age pensioner - it was all so very long ago.

We were at Uncle Cecil White's house one evening having supper. The phone rang and of course it was a party line. Cecil White and Ben White on the same line along with 20 other families. It was our number being called, too long rings followed by two short rings. Aunt Bert answered the phone and it was a telegram for Sgt. White from the RCAF. The message contained the welcome news that I was to report to the Embarkation Depot in Halifax on July 18 - an extra six days leave. I never learned the reason but it suited me fine

The extra time seem to whiz by and as I was packing my bag a great feeling of sadness swept over me. Mother was especially upset that I was leaving and I guess I wept a little myself. Only Dad went to the station with me - it seemed easier that way. I was always optimistic about surviving the war but as we drove out our laneway in the 1935 Chevrolet, I wondered for a moment if I would ever see those lovely maples again. As it turned out I would see them a lot sooner than I had any reason to expect. I said goodbye to Dad at the station with a lump in my throat. I found a seat as the train rumbled across the viaduct and headed out of town. I was glad to find Jim Dobie aboard - his leave too had been extended. It was the same route to the Maritimes that we had taken ten months before, but this time we were going beyond Moncton all the way to the port of Halifax.