Bomb Girls
Page 22
A young GECOite who worked in Building No. 45 packing filled munitions for shipping felt compelled to send a note of cheer to the men who would receive the shipment.161 Without permission or management’s knowledge, she tucked a note in amongst a box of filled fuses. The note travelled all the way to France where a team of gunners discovered it when they unpacked the ammunition.162 The soldiers wrote back, thanking her for her note of cheer; one fellow going so far as to ask to become pen pals.163
The Whispering Gallery
Rumours and malcontents are a part of any organization. Rumours within a secret munitions factory tended to be tastier, and the tongue-wagging work of mischief-makers was more insidious than their non-military counterparts. Management was eager to squash rumours, knowing the damaging effects gossip — whether there was truth in the tidbit or not — could have on their employees’ resolve. “Whispering Gallery,” a regular column in GECO Fusilier’s early issues, featured poems and cautionary tales that appealed to its audience’s tendency to tongue-wag.164 Ross Davis wrote in the paper’s inaugural edition: “If anyone secured any benefit whatever from such rumors as we speak of — if they were harmful to no one — they might be endured with Christian tolerance. But when they produce nervousness in jobs that call for steady hands, it’s different.”165 Every employee at GECO had been assigned a job, “a big and increasingly important job,” in securing victory for the free world.166 “It is up to everyone [sic] of us to see that nothing interferes with doing that job to our level best,” Ross continued, including spreading, listening to, and taking any kernel of discontent to heart.167
Seventy years have passed since operations at Scarboro ended, and even though rumours are usually true only in fancy, tall tales told in a war plant still tickle tongues today. Someone started a story that saltpeter (used militarily and commercially in fertilizer, food preservation, and as a component in rocket propellants, fireworks, and gunpowder) was not only in the tea and coffee served in the cafeteria, but also in the salt tablets that the Medical Department offered to employees to combat ill effects from heat and humidity during Canada’s summer months.168 Yet another worrisome story circulated that workers could “catch” tuberculosis from being in close contact with fellow fuse-fillers in workshops since all buildings on the clean side were air-conditioned and windowless.169 To stir dissent during Victory Loan drives, people petitioning for Victory Loan purchases were rumoured to receive a commission.170 Management was swift to squelch the rumour, calling such gossip “slander on patriotic people” and was “unworthy of ‘Scarboro.’”171
Conclusion
Why did GECO work so well? Because its employees were determined to make it work. Why did they buy in? Because extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures. Uncertain times with a precarious future called for sacrifice, not only from Canada but from every man, woman, and child around the world who lived and longed for peace. Bob and Phil Hamilton, along with their entire management team, tirelessly endeavoured to create working conditions that boosted the morale of their employees. Despite a wildcat strike that lasted a few hours, and a few tight-fisted employees who did not participate in Victory Bond drives, nearly all GECO men and women were engaged, interested, and eager to give their best to their work. From plentiful social activities to social events; from fundraising opportunities to blood donor clinics; from day care to beauty classes; singing, not grumbling, echoed through the galleries of GECO.
13
Disasters at the Plant
Snow Stranded
Only two major events occurred during GECO’s operation that strained medical and management staff.1 Ironically, neither was an explosion or workshop accident.
The first event — the heaviest snowfall in seventy-five years to hit Toronto — began after midnight on Monday, December 12, 1944, and continued well into Tuesday.2 “Traffic is at a complete standstill,” reported the Toronto Daily Star, “as one of the greatest snowstorms of Toronto district’s history left a blanket of one to two feet on level roads and piled drifts as deeply as seven feet.”3 Twenty-two inches of snow fell in less than twenty-four hours.4 War plants shut down, including GECO, whose Monday overnight shift became stormbound, with all roads impassable between the plant and the city.5 Upwards of 1,300 workers — the vast majority of them women — were unable to go home.6 While a snowfall might have been a good way to stir up some good old-fashioned Christmas spirit, the snowstorm was more than Toronto could handle. Gale-force winds buried cars entirely.7
Carol LeCappelain was one of the weary workers who were more than ready for a hot meal and rest. She remembered having to sleep overnight at GECO.8 It was GECO’s first real widespread emergency and everyone in a service or support position — from management to supervisors, from engineers to nursing staff — pitched in. Lines of position and responsibility blurred, with staff and fuse-fillers helping wherever there was a need. Security guards and maintenance workers helped with cooking and serving coffee. Engineers and carpenters shovelled snow. Two men manned the P.A. system and kept workers up to date on war and storm news, and relayed personal messages. Even weary operators helped out. Mrs. Ignatieff, who lived in a pre-war house at the northwest corner of the plant, walked through drifts up to her chin to get to the plant.9 Along with her tired staff (they had worked all night too) she stepped into the fray and fed the masses.10 Anyone and everyone cooked, washed dishes, and cleared tables. With their stomachs satisfied, hundreds of tired “soldiers” bunkered down in the cafeteria or in change rooms.11 Others played cards, sang, and otherwise entertained themselves.12 The Medical Department, under the leadership of Dr. Jeffery, helped those who had “succumbed to fatigue or worry.”13 Switchboard operators stayed on the job for seventeen hours straight.14
Meanwhile, others attempted to get to the plant. Fire chief Tom Benson trekked three hours through the raging storm from his home at O’Connor and Broadview … on foot.15 The Hollinger Bus Line struggled to keep their buses moving in the early stages of the storm, but had to give up as the weather intensified.16 Molly Danniels recalled she waited for the GECO bus Tuesday morning, but only three other women made it to the bus stop.17 When the women finally were picked up and delivered to the plant, Molly found just six other women in her workshop.
Only three buses made it to the plant that day.18 One bus became stuck in a snowdrift at Woodbine Avenue and O’Connor Drive.19 Carol, when she heard about the women trapped inside the bus, worried they would freeze to death if they weren’t rescued soon.20 They waited for four hours in the bitter cold before help arrived.21
Greg Simerson, teenaged son of GECOite Zaida Simerson, recalled that with roads and sidewalks impassable, and a temperature of minus 23 degrees Celsius, he and his dad outfitted a toboggan with a big cardboard box.22 They filled it with blankets and trudged through deep snowdrifts to GECO from their home on Rosemount Drive off Eglinton Avenue East, east of Birchmount Road.23 While Zaida was a modern-day worker doing men’s work for the Allied forces, she still wore dresses and stockings to work; the bitterly cold weather that frosty morning caused her toes to freeze, and the little rescue troupe had to stop at the first house on Rosemount Drive to ask for help.24 The family graciously helped warm up Zaida’s feet with warm water.25 The determined trio set out again, but by the time they reached home at “the top of the hill,” Zaida’s toes weren’t the only casualty of the war against the storm.26 Greg had collected his own battle scars — the bitter cold temperatures had frostbitten the tips of his ears and are still waxy today.27
By noon on Tuesday, breakfast in the cafeteria had morphed into a full-course free dinner. At one point the bread supply ran low.28 GECOnian Gord Garrity walked south to Danforth Avenue and hauled 150 loaves of bread back on a toboggan.29 Garage mechanics equipped a bulldozer with a snowplow.30 Between the Good Roads Commission and the Provincial Highways Department, along with the tireless work from behind GECO’s eight-foot fence, they won the battle against the snow late Tuesday afternoon.31
Bob Hamilton was forced to cancel four shifts at GECO, suspending fuse-filling for thirty-two hours.35 Production started up again Wednesday in time for the afternoon shift.36 Bob wrote a letter of thanks to all GECO employees once the snow had settled a few days later:
The qualities of mind and character that make good will were genuinely demonstrated by the employees of Scarboro on December the 11th and 12th.
Twelve hundred and fifty finished their night shift to find themselves storm bound for 10 hours. Cheerfully they helped each other to “carry on.” Many trudged miles through the storm to look after their special responsibilities and worked long hours — up to 36 — to keep the services going.
Every responsibility was met.
Hundreds of others struggled for hours to get to work and their failure was no fault of their own.
For all these evidences of loyalty and devotion to duty your Management is grateful and more than that — proud.
May you all at Christmas enjoy that good cheer your good will has earned and on behalf of the Management I thank you for what you have done. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
— R.M.P. Hamilton37
Death at the Plant
On January 26, 1945, a Hollinger bus carrying employees back to the city at midnight collided with a heavy truck owned by Toronto-Peterboro Transport. The accident occurred at the eastern junction of GECO’s parking area and Eglinton Avenue.38 The bus spun around from the impact and its side was torn out, while the truck careened into the ditch.39 The truck’s driver was uninjured, but the crash demolished his vehicle.40
According to newspaper coverage, eighteen workers were injured in the accident, the most seriously being Mrs. M. Parkes, who suffered a fractured skull and a number of other injuries.41 Others like Mrs. G. Sinclair, Mrs. R. Wolffers, and Ms. Jean Box suffered serious fractures and shock.42 Hollinger bus driver Mr. Stan York lost consciousness and sustained serious chest injuries.43 Frightened women jumped through shattered bus windows to escape.44
“Drivers of other buses parked at the plant did valuable work in quelling what might have been a panic,” said Mr. John Hollinger, head of Hollinger Bus Lines.45 “There was a rush to the front of the bus where a number of passengers had already been standing beside the driver. Those who jumped through the windows ran the risk of being cut by glass left around the edges.”46
The compassionate staff of GECO’s medical centre worked diligently to render first aid, and prepared and stabilized ten seriously injured victims for transport to hospital.47 In the minutes of GECO’s staff meeting, dated January 30, 1945, Major Flexman, plant manager, openly thanked Dr. Jeffrey and his staff for “the speedy and accurate diagnosis of injuries received by the passengers and the quiet efficient handling of all cases.”48
Management made only a terse mention of the accident in GECO’s chronological record: “Collision of bus with other vehicle at junction of parking lot exit and highway results in injury to employee passengers, ten requiring hospitalization. One of these (Mrs. Parkes) died four days later.”49
14
When “Victory” Trumpets Sound the Call
Canada’s involvement in the Second World War lasted five years, eight months, and six days. When Germany unconditionally surrendered on May 7, 1945, the need for ammunition dropped almost immediately. Every soul who worked at GECO longed for the war to end, yet when the order to “cease fire” was issued, its declaration was so sudden that GECOites were taken aback. Thousands of women and men quickly had to face the psychological, emotional, and economic implications of impending peace. After four long years in operation, “Scarboro” would close its doors.
Lay Down Your Arms
GECO’s day shift was well underway when the official declaration came through on Monday, May 7, 1945. Word rippled first through the dirty side of the plant, then over to the clean side. There were no whoops, hollers, or claps of joy. Women continued to fill fuses. “As a matter of cold fact,” Ross Davis wrote in the next issue of the plant’s newspaper, “we’ve seen Scarboro a good deal more excited about a visit by screen celebrities or a military band around Victory Loan time.”1
“How are they taking it inside?” a woman asked a worker as she stepped over the clean-side barrier to take her lunch break.2 “I just came from the High Side (high explosives line), and it’s very quiet there,” was her reply. “A few women are crying.”3
Women proceeded to the cafeteria for their lunch at noon, and they quietly ordered and ate their Monday choice of beefsteak pie or breaded veal cutlet, the same way they had done for the past four years.4 Bob Hamilton announced Tuesday, May 8 would be a holiday “with pay.”5
Management expected a mass exodus after lunch and had buses waiting.6 The buses left empty.7 When lunch break was over only a few failed to return to their workshops.8 Over 90 percent of the afternoon shift showed up for work at 3:00.9 “To complete this chronicle of devotion to duty,” Ross Davis wrote, “a devotion that has become traditional with Scarboro, it is essential to add that when the Plant’s operations resumed with the night shift on Tuesday (official V-Day) at 11:00, over 80 percent of the normal number of employees passed through the time clocks — sober and ready for work.”10
Why was there such a tepid reaction to the end of a global conflict so dreadful, so brutal, and on a scale of human suffering never seen before in the history of mankind? The reasons were as varied, personal, and unique as the women who worked at the plant. Many women had to face a stark and sober reality that their loved one was not coming home. Others, out of respect for grieving women, tempered their own elation at knowing they would be reunited with their loved ones again. GECOites who needed extra money to keep their homes and feed their children feared the impending loss of income. For some women, they foresaw a loss of newfound identity. These women had filled a vital need for the Allied forces — they had become mighty Fusiliers, Bomb Girls, and the Girls Behind the Guns. With the war over, could they be content with the humble title of Mother, Nana, or the Girl Next Door again?
And what of the impending loss of community and friendship? Thousands of GECOites brought together in a united, altruistic, fiercely patriotic purpose were about to scatter, heading back to their pre-war lives, perhaps back to aprons, back to the mundane — and sometimes lonely — duties of the home, back to school, or back to life on the farm. How could they replace the unique comradery and solidarity forged on fuse-filling lines of a top-secret munitions plant?
“Scarboro has always had an esprit de corps very similar to that found in the armed services,” Ross wrote, “and the bonds which tied all sections of the Plant together, forged in the fires of a deep-seated patriotism, have grown stronger than most of us had realized.”11
And perhaps the most obvious reason of all? GECOites, regardless of their mood or desire to celebrate, knew well the potentially dire consequences of carelessness or distraction — even for the best reasons — while on the job.
As days passed, women warmed to the inevitable ending of their wartime work. “… after the first shock had spent its force,” Ross wrote, “individual reactions became more apparent. ‘Golly, am I glad it will be over soon’, said one supervisor we talked to, — and she really meant it. ‘No more night shifts — no more dirty gunpowder.’ ‘Won’t it be swell just to stay at home and look after the housework’ was another reaction. ‘Am I going to take a good holiday in the sunshine’ was still another remark heard.”12
Less than two weeks after Germany capitulated, the Government of Canada sent out a notif
ication to the Hamiltons from Ottawa on May 22, 1945, stating production at GECO would end June 30, 1945.13 Within twenty-four hours, Bob Hamilton received a Final Production Plan from the Department of Munitions and Supply.14 The first round of layoffs would come quickly, scheduled to begin within the week.15 GECO’s photographer, George Rutherford, hastily took workshop photographs, in an effort to capture a moment in time for as many employees as schedules would allow.16 On May 28, management reduced production shifts from three to two.17 With layoffs imminent, and with some time to absorb and accept their eventual parting, the spirits of men and women at GECO rebounded.
Thanks for Your Faithful Service
The Hamilton brothers formally thanked their employees in GECO Fusilier’s May 28, 1945 edition:
In an organization such as Geco at Scarboro, it is necessary to have many auxiliary or service departments in order to keep the primary or Production Department operating at a high efficiency. It will be of interest to all employees to know that in addition to your remarkable production record the splendid results obtained by the service departments in keeping operations going with no lost time due to mechanical, power, maintenance, or transportation difficulties; the improvements in methods, designs, and knowledge of ammunition problems; the tenor of your housekeeping and the safety record; the results of your medical care and research; the Personnel Departments; and the cafeteria; the activities and co-operation of the Munitions Workers Association; the keen interest developed by the Recreation Club, the war veterans and other charitable groups; your generous response to all war loan and other drives; your co-operation and spirit of give and take with all departments of Inspection Control, and of course the splendid spirit of mutual respect between workers and staff is known and appreciated not only in our locality but throughout Canada, and in the United States, Great Britain and Australia.