Luis Noriega Medrano

1 - With Spirit of St. Louis

Luis Noriega Medrano was born in the state of Zacatecas, Mexico, in the town of Guadalupe, in 1904. Luis Noriega Medrano’s paternal ancestors came from the Principality of Asturias, a coastal community in north-west Spain, and the exact date his ancestor arrived in Mexico is not known. His father was Juan Manuel Noriega Reza and his mother Eloisa Medrano.

His story is on this personal blog which pays homage to an almost unsung hero.

Chapter One is here in PDF form.

Chapter One is here in text form.

Chapter Two is here in PDF form.

Chapter Two is here in text form.

Chapter Three is here in PDF form.

Chapter Three is here in text form.

Chapter Four is here in PDF form.

Chapter Four is here in text form.

Chapter Five is here in PDF form.

Chapter Five is here in text form.

Chapter Six is here in PDF form.

A few more chapters will be published later.

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Old pictures and my 5th cousin once removed

Remembrance Day 2017

Our Ancestors

Old pictures sometimes are the only thing left to remember people by…

Or headstones…

Or Memorial Websites

Or a 94 year-old veteran who remembers the Fallen.

Gordon Hill remembered his old friend Larry Legace with pictures he kept all these years. First, with a picture taken at No.5 ITS (Initial Training School) Belleville, Ontario…

No.5 ITS Belleville, Ontario

Next, with a group picture taken later at No.4 EFTS Windsor Mills, Quebec in the summer of 42…

No.4 EFTS Windsor Mills, Quebec

Finally with a group picture taken at No.13 SFTS St. Hubert, Quebec…

SFTS St. Hubert

No.13 SFTS St. Hubert, Quebec

St-Hubert SFTS No 65 course

Colorised version

This photo of Larry was found on Ancestry’s Website.

Larry Legace real name was Lawrence Ferdinand Legace. His record of service is available for everyone to look at. Probably no one is looking for Lawrence since he never had any descendants…

Unless he fathered a child during the war…

View original post 170 more words

“P for Panic” is back home

By JACK HAMBLETON

Malton, June 13 (Staff)—”P for Panic” is back home. Before thousands of cheering employees of Victory Aircraft Ltd. who built “P for Panic,” the big Lancaster, member of the famous Ghost Squadron, brought her seven-man crew safely home yesterday after a leisurely cruise, because of weather conditions from England.

And if there’s a more decorated bomber to the Royal Canadian Air Force than “P for Panic” it would be worth seeing. Not officially decorated – but just plain and informally decorated.

For instance, above “P’s” four big motors the cowlings bear the names of each engine. There’s “Peculiar, Pitiful, Passionate and Pathetic.” The crew doesn’t know just why those names were chosen, or “maybe it was just alliteration.” Then over the entrance door of the big bomber is a replica of an English signboard. It says simply: “Panic Inn”. On the bomb doors are the names of the ground who kept P for Panic in tip-top shape. There are also scores of pencilled greetings from England.

Ghost Squadron Crest
There’s a goose with a halo on one side of the fuselage. That’s the Ghost Squadron crest. Underneath, some poetic soul has inscribed the following: ‘

“P for Panic hit old Jerry.
In every conceivable place:
The War in Europe is over—gone,
Let’s get cracking on that YELLOW race.”

Just forward of these choice sentiments are seven rows of 10 small bombs each, with two left over. They are souvenirs of P for Panic’s 72 missions over enemy territory. There are other souvenirs, too. When the bomb doors are open you can see scores of shiny marks and dents in the aluminum. Those are also souvenirs— flak marks.

The Ghost and Goose Squadrons were adopted months ago by Victory employees, who made sure the crews got cigarets and other comforts during their operations.

And yesterday the crew of P for Panic said “thanks”. The ceremony( was very, very informal.

Members of Crew
The crew consisted of FO. R. L. Boyle, skipper; FO. D. A. Matheson, navigator; FO. D. Moore, bomb aimer; Sgt. E. O. Jenner, flight engineer; FO. R. J. Foord, upper gunner; WO. 1 D. A. McAmmond, wireless air gunner and Flt. Lt. D. W. Irvine, tail gunner. Irvine and Foord were particularly happy to land in Toronto, for this is their tome town and Irvine’s 16-months old daughter Penny, last seen by him 13 months ago, was right at the airport to greet her Daddy. So was Mrs. Irvine. Moore comes from Hamilton, and his parents, Mr. and Mrs. H. C. Moore, were on hand to meet him too.

Boyle, was chosen to speak to the cheering Victory workers and his speech was a triumph. “It is nice to see so many beautiful girls,” he began. And was promptly drowned out by a thousand whistling and cheering girls before him. He started again: “I never thought such beautiful girls could make such a lovely aircraft, but it all seems to go together.” Then another member of the crew started “thanks” for the cigarets because in England “the cigarets are the grimmest things this side of (censored).” If, he said, ‘you don’t believe me I’ll give you a couple.

Welcomed by Scully
W. Scully, president of  the company which built P, for Panic, or to make it official “KB-760.” didn’t waste ‘much time either. “It is my very pleasant job to welcome you home,” he said. “KB-760 left here on May 15, 1944, and since then has completed 72 trips, many with the crew who brought her back here. We’re glad to see you back.”

From there on, Victory employees took charge of things. They swarmed around P for Panic, examining’ the “flak” holes describing just how they installed the “Pathetic” engine; how tough a job it was to roll those five-foot tires into place and all the rest of it.

The crew climbed down from the pedestal upon which they had been placed and were promptly surrounded by the girls seeking autographs and stories of derring-do, which were not  forthcoming. For if P for Panic had any exciting adventures in its 72 bombing missions the crew “just hadn’t heard of it,” Actually, of course, they were all looking forward to the 30-day leave which commences immediately.

As at matter of fact, there were seven very uncomfortable young men on the platform when Bill Boothroyd, speaking for Victory employees, welcomed them back to Canada “as the heroes you are.”

“Let us,” remarked Jenner, “”get outa here and unpack the kite.” That’s how P for Panic came home.

 

Flight Engineer Eric Jenner and Mid-upper gunner R.J. Foord

Don McAmmond had high praise for Flight Engineer Eric Jenner.

Your dad was probably the best flight engineer on the squadron…

[…]

It so happened that the very first raid that we were on was also the most terrifying (actually) – The Jerrys threw everything at us – Flak, ME 109s, we were combed by searchlight (thanks to Bob & your Dad) we managed to escape scarecrows – everything – We had been hit several times, thanks again to your Dad, we arrived back at base safely…

[…]

You asked what your Dad was like on raids (missions is an Americanism not generally used by R.A.F. or R.C.A.F.). Eric was a calming effect on the rest of the crew. He was probably scared spitless like the rest of us but he didn’t show it. Although I have seen him sweating under hazardous conditions and doing his job well.

The two gunners & your Dad were the “old men” of the crew. They were at or near thirtyish. The other 4 were just kids & I was the youngest.

Peter: You can be proud of your Dad’s experience. Take it from me who knew him the best, your Dad was a man! There are a number of stories to tell but it would take too much time to tell it all.

Here are some pictures taken at the Azores in June 1945. The crew is coming home to Canada.
Azores 1945-1

Eric Jenner and R.J. Foord are seen with locals (the man on the right is unknown).

Azores 1945-2

Flight Engineer Eric Jenner on the right. Others are unknown.

Azores 1945-3

On the left is R.J. Foord – mid upper gunner. Next to him is an unknown airman, probably one of the crew. Eric Jenner is second from the right.

Next time…

P for Panic Flies Home

article P for Panic

 

Dear Peter,

17 April, 1992

Dear Peter,

I have procrastinated long enough. I intended to write to you much sooner but I kept putting it off. Your letter of January 18th arrived about January 24th – Thank you for writing.

I appreciate your bringing me up to date on your dad’s history. We had no idea that he was married or had a family. I will attempt to answer your queries in the order that you asked.

It is many years since I visited Hamilton and the war plane museum was not in existence. However, I have contributed funds over the years to rebuild the plane that you saw. For your information, there is an official government war museum in our nation’s capital (Ottawa, Ontario) – My nephew an army officer and my ex-pilot Bob Boyle have informed me that the major attraction is a life-size replica of “P” for Panic”. I hope someday to see it if time and finances allow it.

Before I answer your questions, I shall give you a bit of trivia on how our Lanc got its name. Officially, aircraft lettering used the phonetic alphabet. We were assigned P – Peter. All documents used that term P – Peter. There might be some significance in the name you received – * (continued below)

Your dad, compared to the rest of the crew was a taciturn gentleman. I personally, probably knew him the best, as we were both senior N.C.O.s – the same mess and barracks – (barracks another story).

My memory is not as sharp as it was a few years ago but will try my best. We were blessed with an all around excellent crew. We, each in turn, proved that we were all conscientious and reliable. Your dad was probably the best flight engineer on the squadron. He had previous aeronautical engineering experience before re-mustering to aircrew.

(*) – I started to digress but will return to the subject. Our squadron’s call sign was “Nitro”. Our base call sign was “strapper”. Returning from a trip, the pilot or I would call on the radio – “quote” – “Strapper from Nitro P. for Peter – landing instructions please”. We used that terminology throughout landings and take-offs. Other crews used nicknames for their kites. (friends of ours changed their name from W-William to “W-The whore of the pack.

Upon our return one time our mid-upper gunner had not had a chance to “billy” and got out of the plane in a hurry to relieve himself. He sighed and said that we should call our aircraft “P for Relief”. The name stuck for sometime until one morning upon the return from a raid. The R.C. Padre met us at dispersal. He notified us that he was often in the control tower when our squadron returned checking on what aircraft made it back. The ladies in the control tower (R.A.F. types) or W.A.A.F.s (Woman’s Auxiliary Air Force) were requested to address us as we identified ourselves. The padre didn’t care but he said that the girls used to blush when he was there. He asked us if we would mind changing our call sign. He was a nice guy so we complied. We had had a particularly traumatic raid & once again the mid-upper gunner christened our aircraft P for Panic. The name stuck for all time.

OK, I’ll try to get this letter back to some form of continuity. Yes, there was apprehension before a raid – we tried not to show it but nevertheless it was there in all of us. (Another little digression) – It so happened that the very first raid that we were on was also the most terrifying (actually) – The Jerrys threw everything at us – Flak, ME 109s, we were combed by searchlight (thanks to Bob & your Dad) we managed to escape scarecrows – everything – We had been hit several times, thanks again to your Dad, we arrived back at base safely. Needless to say, we were a scared crew. When the other more experienced crews returned, they told us that we were lucky to have such a soft raid the first time out. We learned later that they were kidding us, as they had never had a worse experience. Strangely enough, even bad trips after that seemed comparatively mild after our fearful initiation.

Yes Peter, we had a number of close calls. I have managed to forget a great deal of things but your letter and questions seemed to help me recall. I don’t normally dwell on the war but my son John, 37 years of age who is a lawyer in Winnipeg and my youngest brother Dick have often asked questions. They know more about WWII than I do.

You asked what your Dad was like on raids (missions is an Americanism not generally used by R.A.F. or R.C.A.F.). Eric was a calming effect on the rest of the crew. He was probably scared spitless like the rest of us but he didn’t show it. Although I have seen him sweating under hazardous conditions and doing his job well.

The two gunners & your Dad were the “old men” of the crew. They were at or near thirtyish. The other 4 were just kids & I was the youngest.

Peter: You can be proud of your Dad’s experience. Take it from me who knew him the best, your Dad was a man! There are a number of stories to tell but it would take too much time to tell it all.

About crew reunions: We have seen each other individually from time to time however a few years ago the three of us and our wives got together here in the little village of Edberg, Alberta. We had exchanged Christmas cards & both the boys mentioned that they would be at or near Alberta in the summertime. I immediately wrote them and asked them to come here for a reunion. They both complied. We had a grand time.

As to another reunion, it seems very unlikely. You may not realize the immensity of Canada – Matheson lives 1,000 miles west of me and Boyle about 1,000 miles east. Hamilton Ontario is about another 2,000 miles east of Boyle. Bob & Matt are both 70 years of age & I will be 69 on April 24th.

In September or October this year my wife & I plan to motor to Winnipeg to visit my son. Bob and Beth Boyle have invited us to stop over in Portage-la-Prairie to visit them. We plan to do so if at all possible.

Peter, it was nice to hear from you. If you can see your way clear to write again, I would appreciate learning about your Dad, how he fared, how many children, your mother etc…etc…

If we should ever be fortunate enough to meet, we could then exchange a number of stories that I don’t necessarily relish putting on paper.

I am starting to get writers cramp so I’ll end this epistle for now. Respectfully,

Don McAmmond