Good Morning,
Let me say at the start what a privilege it is to be able to speak to you this morning. Technically speaking, I’m not officially part of the Kootney crew.
On the 23rd of October 1969, I was the squadron medical
officer for eight destroyers as part of a task force and was sailing in HMCS
Saguenay approximately 200 miles off the coast of
One year ago, on this weekend, at the Bonaventure memorial, the Admiral of the day asked the Kootney members to come forward for a group photograph. I was standing at the back of the crowd with a few of the guys, and told them to go ahead and get their picture taken because I wasn’t officially a crew member. But then Chris Legere gave me one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever had when he said, “The hell you aren’t, come on with us.”
So today, I consider it, in the presence of the Norton family, to be an extraordinary honor to be considered part of the crew and to have this opportunity to speak to you about the Kootney story.
The 23rd of October, 1969, just another ordinary morning – homeward bound, and glad to be doing that – when at 8:30 in the morning, the world of the Kootney crew changed forever, and they came face to face with death and destruction, their own vulnerability and mortality. Kootney was hurt badly and had just suffered the worst peace time naval disaster in the history of Maritime Command.
I’m not going to recount the details of that fateful morning that has been told countless times before by people with more technical expertise than me.
The truth of the matter is that I was probably not a good
navy officer. Indeed, my last commanding
officer wrote in my last fitness report before leaving the navy, “This officer may be a good doctor, but he
has a lot to learn about the navy. He
has used my ship to transport himself from port to port, from party to party,
at the Queen’s expense.”
All of that is probably true, but I must say, as I reflect
back over the years I would not trade my three years in the Royal Canadian Navy
for all the tea in
So I want to emphasize my admiration for that crew by
concentrating on the trip we took two years ago to
I want to share with you a few personal reflections of that trip – not from the eyes of a naval officer but from the perspective of a young doctor – 28 years old – who had no idea of what he was getting into on that morning in 1969; nor any concept of how profoundly the incident would affect him some 42 years later.
There were 235 men on board Kootney
that day, and two years ago along with family members and friends, 37 of the
original crew made this pilgrimage trip to
In 1969, I really didn’t know all that much about the many brave acts of courage that occurred that day. Indeed, I didn’t really know much about the crew. They were just casualty tags, medical case histories, and injuries. But on this pilgrimage reunion, I got to hear some of their stories – to put names on faces, and to hear what they did that day in their efforts to fight the fire and save the ship. I had never heard those stories before because at the time I was too busy, exhausted and overwhelmed with 8 dead patients, 51 seriously injured crew, including some with horrible burns, and smoke inhalation injuries.
I think that 40th pilgrimage trip had 4 high purposes.
Firstly, we had a lot of press in attendance on that trip. And I think, their coverage help tell the story to a very wide Canadian audience. Sometimes, as Canadians, we tend to forget or minimalize the service and sacrifice of our service men and women on our behalf. But now, many more Canadians know this story.
Secondly, the trip helped raise the awareness and sensitivity of the Department of Veterans Affairs to favorably consider the legitimate request of the Kootney survivors for compensation for the injuries they suffered. I think this is the right thing for the DVA to do and I am pleased that this process seems to have moved forward in a positive way.
Thirdly, the trip was an opportunity to remember and pay a sincere and solemn tribute to our fallen shipmates and reflect on how lucky the rest of us were to have survived the incident.
Fourthly, the trip was an emotional one for many of the
participants. Some of them had not
openly discussed their stories and emotions before that trip. But I think the trip did help all of us to
heal a little bit. In truth, maybe we
all helped each other. One of the wives
told me that in her marriage – which is a good one – but it seemed like there
was an elephant in the room. But, once
her husband got to
I have said that this trip was an emotional one, but it was also an enjoyable one, and it did have some funny moments, like when Ron Hilldebrand met with the Captain for the first time in 40 years, and asked CDR Norton if he remembered him. While the captain couldn’t quite remember him. So Ron stood at attention – whipped off an imaginary cap as if he were standing at Captain’s Defaulters table – and then asked, did the captain remember him now, and they both laughed hysterically.
One cannot begin to tell the story of the Kootney without first describing Dinger bell – the heart and soul and lifeblood of the Kootney reunions. He works tirelessly for that cause and we owe him a lot. If ever there is a picture of a navy Hairybag it is a picture of Allen Bell – one of the most unique characters that I have ever met – non conventional, impulsive – ungovernable – doggedly determined – and fiercely loyal. Ladies and gentlemen, if you ever had to go down a dark alley in harm’s way – you would feel a lot better knowing that Dinger Bell was at your side, protecting your flank.
One of my most vivid memories of that trip was the service
at
The ceremony at Brookwood was held on a beautiful sunny day and was very moving. I stood in the same spot 40 years earlier where as a young doctor in shock and dismay, I helped bury 4 patients that I had lost with no chance to help or save them.
I saw men like Al Kennedy, John Montague, and Russell Saunders – three stoical men, and watched the shadow of sadness pass over their faces, and I watched them break down.
That moment was for me very overwhelming and exquisitely sad.
I heard the story of Jaques Godin who must have been 17 or 18 years old at the time, and was detailed to go down below into the flats while the fire was still burning and hose down a bulkhead next to the ships ammunition magazine. If it had gone off we would have all been dead, and I can just imagine the terror and loneliness of standing next to that magazine in the dark with a hose but he stayed at his post and did his job and the magazine never let off.
I would have liked to have met CPO George again. The stories I heard about what he did that
day are the stuff of
What I needed was more suction equipment – we only had one such machine – which we were using to try to drain fluid out of people’s lungs.
And low and behold, he gathered a bunch of engineers together, and in a very short space of time, he jury-rigged more machines for me. I would have liked the opportunity to thank him again for that.
John Gregory – a very gentle man, who was one of those patients I used the suction machine on – he along with many others were trapped in the cafeteria – unable to see or move because of a dense blanket of smoke. John thankfully survived but a very close friend of his, Lew Stringer, did not and died from smoke inhalation. I know John still mourns the loss of Lew Stringer, and I share his pain.
Ladies and Gentleman, if you get the opportunity this morning to tour this amazing school – go into one of the closed spaces, it will be dark. Close your eyes and try to move about – let your imagination run and perhaps you will feel a little of the panic and fear of those Kootney members that were trapped in that space on that fateful morning.
And then along comes Bert Tiffin and Sub Lieutenant Refenstein – Bert crawling along the deck with his chemlox gear and Refenstein in scuba gear and they are literally your salvation and they lead you out to the safety of the upper deck. Those two saved countless lives that morning and are the unsung heroes of Kootney.
I never met Petty Officer Boudreau but on the pilgrimage I had the opportunity to meet some of his family. I think Petty Officer Boudreau would have been proud of the way his kids turned out. They wanted to know the circumstances of their father’s death and I told them what I knew as gently as I could. I hope it was enough.
I remember the group of sailors including Rick Boyd who were detailed the awful task of going down into the engine room and bringing up the bodies to the upper deck. I know they are still haunted by that task. What they saw and had to do no man should be asked to do, and they did it with stoicism and grim determination and I admire them for it.
Finally, a few words about the Captain – CDR Norton, for whom I had great affection. It was approximately a year ago that we learned of his passing and this crew is very glad that he accompanied us on the pilgrimage trip. They say that tragedy and greatness – no matter how fleeting – marks a man; and there is no doubt that the Kootney crew feel that Neil Norton was a great man.
In the presence of some of his family, I want to share some
of my most vivid memories of that trip to
The first is kind of funny, actually. We actually lost the captain at the start of the trip at Gatwick airport. He got misplaced and separated from the rest of us. And 37 of us were in a near panic trying to find him. Eventually, John Montague and I found him and his wife. I got the greatest hug from Barbara May – I think she was really glad to see us and Neil, besides fuming at being misplaced, was actually scheming how to get himself and his wife in wheelchairs from Gatwick to the cemetery at Brookwood. What a remarkable story.
Secondly, at the conclusion of the memorial service at St. John’s church in downtown Plymouth England – a church that, I must tell you, is very old, very beautiful, and steeped in navy tradition – it was the church where Admiral Nelson and Sir Frances Drake worshipped before they set sailed on their adventures. At the conclusion of the service, just outside the church, I saw four senior naval officers – four ringed captains – two RCN and two RN – snap to attention and salute CDR Norton as he was wheeled past. I don’t think Chesty even saw that but I did and I thought it was a remarkable and moving tribute by four colleagues to one of their own.
Lastly, at the Mayflower steps, at the end of the equally
moving memorial ceremony, they wheeled CDR Norton out to a small, semi-circular
balcony which overlooked
And he looked up at me with that impish grin and said, “What a great idea Doc. What the hell took you so long?”
May god bless the soul of Neil Norton.
Finally, to the Kootney crew as a whole, what you did that day in 1969 was truly remarkable. There is no doubt that the sea can be a cruel and dangerous place.
Oscar Wilde once wrote, I have walked with death and destruction, and I have asked those who were with me did we do a great or little thing. I think you did a great thing.
Looking back, I am convinced that it is not so much the burden that is placed on you; it is how you carry that burden. I think you have done that very well.
I am grateful that I have gotten to know you. I will not forget you. God bless you all. Thank you very much.
Written by Dr. JJ Homer - October 21, 2011
(Surgeon Lieutenant – RCN – Retired)