Louis Joseph Saint-Laurent. 1918 - 1995.
BRIEF PERSONAL HISTORY
Dad was born in Sherbrooke, PQ, on March 10, 1918. His mother died when he was young and as his father was unable to bring up several children on his own, Dad went to an orphanage until he was in his mid teens. Around 1934 Dad left the orphanage and went to work on his Dads farm, during his teens and early twenties my Dad played amateur ice hockey, drove snowplows in winter and freight trucks in summer. He also worked in a Garage servicing autos. It was whilst working at the Garage in Ayers Cliff, Quebec, that he met the Canadian Prime Minister Louis Saint-Laurent who turned out to be Dads 4th cousin. As the war clouds were forming over Europe Dad was having a grand old time, driving trucks on the Toronto-Montreal run, going to see the Canadiens play hockey and generally living the life of any upstanding lad in his early twenties! As the war approached it's second year, he knew that Canada would soon be starting conscription to send troops to aid the besieged British Isles. Not wanting to be drafted and having to go wherever they sent him Dad volunteered for the R.C.A.F. Unfortunately, physical reasons stopped him from becoming an Air Gunner, so Dad transferred to the Sherbrooke Fusiliers Infantry Regiment. Dad soon found out however that being in the infantry involved lots of marching. This not being one off his favorite pastimes and with a 50 mile route march in full pack looming Dad transferred again to the R.C.A. Finally he had found his true calling, lot's of driving around in Jeeps and trucks, learning to be a Mechanic and very little "bloody marching" as he put it! Arriving in England in early 1942, he was stationed at a place called 'Marden Park' near Woldingham, Surrey. It was while stationed here that he would meet my mother Jane C. Brown at a dance in the local town of Caterham. Apparently, Dad could "cut a rug" with the best of them and had soon danced my mum silly 'till she agreed to go out with him. Soon after he was sent to North Africa with the 1st Canadian Division, Monty, the 8th army and uncle Tom cobbly 'n all!! Mum denied that any "hanky panky" was partaken of, so we'll assume that they weren't that serious at that stage. Meanwhile in Africa, Dad was driving 'Bren gun' carriers on Artillery spotting missions behind enemy lines.
He told me of a few "narrow escapes" which are retold in 'Dads tales'. After the Victory in North Africa, Dad took part in the Invasion of Sicily, then the push up the Italian mainland, apparently Mum and Dad had exchanged a few letters during this time. Most of Dad's tales were about the battle of Monte Cassino or they were about incidents that happened in anonymous locations. After having six 'Bren gun' carriers shot or blown out from under him, breaking his wrist whilst sliding down stair rails in an Italian Chateau (his only wound throughout the entire war!) nearly running down General DeGaulle (the Free French leader) and 'confiscating' all watches, medals, SS knives, Luger pistols and anything else that he could get his hands on, Dad finished the war 'mopping up' Germans in Holland and Germany, in early 1945 he flew back to England in the bomb bay of a Wellington Bomber ("no first class in them days, son") He married my Mum that June. He was going to volunteer to go fight the Japs but they dropped the bomb in August and the war ended before he could do so. They went back to Canada and my brother Colin was born in Sherbrooke, Quebec on June 12th, 1949. Mum had a difficult pregnancy with Colin, so she returned to England in 1951 to have their second child, David. Dad was going to volunteer for service in Korea, but I guess he realized that he wasn't a carefree, single guy anymore so he didn't go. Dad joined mum and the boys in 1952 and settled in England, working as a Mechanic for a Bus company for over 20 years. I was born in 1960 and by then the family had settled in the Caterham/Warlingham district of Surrey. Anyway, he dedicated his time to his family from then on and worked long hours to support us. He often told me that his Army days were some of the best years of his life and he wished he'd stayed in the service. I think that I have my dads wander lust, but I'm realizing as I think he did, that you can't be a Gypsy all your life and at some point most of us settle down. Dad retired in the mid 1980's and they moved to Norfolk, I visited them every month (I still lived in Surrey) and in 1989 Dad returned to Canada for the first time in 37 years! I'm glad I was with him on that trip, he'd always been proud of being Canadian and I had the joy of driving him around to the visit the places of his youth. The last time I saw my father was in 1994 during a short visit to England (I was now living in California) I had no idea that I would never see him again. Looking back, I suppose I could have spent more time with him, but I was very close to him in the last 10 years of his life and for that I'll always be grateful. Make the most of your time with loved one's, it's time that can never be replaced and time that can never be taken away. Good bye Pop, the proud Canadian soldier, our world's a darker place without you.
Back to main page