by C.M. “Curly” Tripp
Tripp was the Radio Operator on a Hudson Bomber that left Gander in a flight along with the Banting Plane.
“I have wanted to write this ever since that fateful night of February 20, 1941, when Sir Frederick Banting was badly injured in a crash shortly after take off from the Newfoundland Airport (Gander). He lived for some time after the crash but was never fully conscious as told in Captain Joe Mackey’s story published in the Montreal Standard on March 15, 1941. I wonder if I am not the last man to have seen him alive and well.
Fred Banting did not go aboard until Mackey had his motors run up on Lockheed Hudson T-9449 and was ready to taxi out. With only the cockpit lights on there is no doubt that Bill Snailham, the radio officer, on the ill fated plane, was the only one to see him come aboard. Previously they had fixed him a comfortable place on the folding cot in the main cabin for the long overseas hop.
That was the last world saw of this famous Doctor alive, who I remember only as very human, cheerful, interesting gentleman who had no business trying to fly to the Old Country in those early days, when only a handful of us had two trips to our credit and Lloyd’s of London weren’t sticking their neck out by quoting insurance rates for that kind of flying.
The fact that he was going along made him one of us and as such he was treated and bunked in the Eastbound Inn there in Newfoundland with the rest of the crews and I feel he enjoyed every minute of it.
I was radio officer with F/L Butler of the RAF on Hudson T 9432 and we had picked out the choices rooms by the time Mackey arrived the afternoon of February 17 with a passenger who was at first glance a Major in the Canadian Army, and on second thought, was a Medical Officer. What his name was no one seemed to know? Later in the evening I heard Mackey jokingly make the remark, “That the Old Gent should consider himself lucky he had gotten as far as he did with such a bum pilot and pick some one else to fly the ocean with”. Little did we realize then that sometimes words mean things. It was a mechanical failure due to sand in the oil tanks that caused the crash and I have often wished we had taken him ourselves as we had a good crossing. After spending four days with Sir Frederick Banting there in Newfoundland there has never been any doubt in my mind our great loss for the British Empire suffered on that fateful night.
Having been in Gander three times before, once for 12 days on my first flight I felt myself as sort of a native and my duty was to make this stranger feel at home. It was no effort, as he was so interesting and friendly, I soon found myself talking away as though he were a member of the crew. Knowing he was a doctor I asked him if he wished to meet any of the Medical Officers on the station. He expressed his wishes to meet all the M.O’s he could while there and I soon found myself driving him and up to the officers mess of the 48 Highlanders who were stationed there at the time, and who were grand hosts who to us on previous flights.
It was that cold miserable Newfoundland night was about a foot of snow and I was glad to get home safely to the mess without getting stalled in a snowbank and looking like an amateur having given him the impression that I knew my way around.
I had just inquired of one of the officers in the mess, where we could see the C.O. when everyone snapped to attention and I knew it would require no further looking. Incidentally it reminded me that I was in the officer’s mess with my big warm winter cap on and I felt somewhat embarrassed as I try to tell the Colonel that the Major had come in on one of our planes that afternoon and I had taken it upon myself to show him around, also as I did not know the Major’s name I would let him present himself and proceeded to just withdraw. The C.O. was very gracious and I was part of the way out of the mess when I heard him requesting his guest’s name and faintly heard “Banting, Major Banting”.
The C.O. came slowly to attention as I heard him say, “Not the Banting”? And immediately after, in a tone that only a Colonel could use, the one word “Gentlemen”. When every officer in the room snapped to attention, to use a slang expression “ I blew it”.
On the way back to the Inn I realized that we had an important guest but it did not strike me that there could be any connection between him and the famous discoverer of insulin, who would never be so fool hearty as to go flying across the ocean in a Lockheed Hudson because as I heard him say later it was no use trying to put ideas on paper with those Englishman, one had to go and talk to them personally to get the actions he felt necessary.
I was surprised when he came back from the 48th Mess so early and so casually took up the conversation where we had left off earlier. I asked him if we would care to meet any of the other medical officers, or his day been full enough he did not appear tired when he said he would I went across to the administration building where I was fortunate to meet the civilian doctor and 3 R.CAF MO’s were standing in the hallway talking. When I told them we had an important guest at our Inn by the name of Dr. Banting, they became greatly excited and incredulous that such a famous person should be in their midst without any advanced notice. They soon got on their great coats and followed me back to the Inn.
He saw me enter and came forward with his usual pleasant smile and twice that night I found myself stumbling through introductions to people I did not even know. I must have been stupid that night as I usually am after a stretch of flying, but when for the second time that night I saw officers of his Majesty‘s forces stand strictly at attention, it suddenly dawned on me that this was beyond a doubt was Sir Frederick Banting of insulin fame. The medicals we’re obviously ill at ease with such a famous member and their own profession and left shortly. This was to our advantage, as he felt like talking that night and although only a couple of us knew who he really was everyone sat around until the small hours of the morning listening.
Plain and ordinary unprofessional talk that held one spell bound. Visions of things to be and the ideas so simple and constructive that you wondered why they have not thought of before and that had been tried before. At the time the Old Country was going through it’s great trial of cities like Liverpool, Bristol in Coventry were being bombed nightly and all the lights had gone out while the world held her breath and wondered if it was the end.
As we was listening we are at admired his courage in choosing his way of getting there as soon as he could so that we could help. His cool calm confidence in himself was always will always make me wonder to how great an extent he may have helped.
Next day a couple of the boys develop colds and he overheard me suggest that I get the M.O. He would not hear of this as shortly after I saw him wading through the deep snow down towards 48th Highlanders Mess and come back with hot water bottles and some medicine. From then on there was a no question of who is going to be the doctor around the Inn and we were his boys and he would do any doctoring that was to be done. This gesture really endured him to the game and it was amusing to watch hard boiled Yankee pilots sitting out hands of a poker game to talk to him while navigators and radio officers on found themselves getting a kick out of making tea and sandwiches for him between meals which they thought were they were swiping from under the chefs nose, who was getting a kick out of leaving things lying around so the boys would have too much trouble finding them.
We were there for four days waiting on the weather and I felt enjoyed every minute of it and that happy go lucky don’t give a damn atmosphere. While I never heard him talk as he he did the first night was always had a good audience and was ready to banter to enjoy their jokes. Always he was asking questions of flying and he missed no remark on high-altitude admitting that he had spent a few hours in a decompression chamber. Never did he disclose his real purpose of going to the old country and that was too bad as I feel some of us may have taken this message and again have some often wondered if any out why never knew just how much was going up on the great mind.
He seemed to favor me, weather because I was older and was my third on my third flight which was top of the time, and confided in me is greater worry of the coming flight. His kidneys had bothering him coming from Montreal to Newfoundland and found it embarrassing to be going up to so often to the toilet back of the tail. Particularly when he found out how sensitive the Hudson was to changes in center of gravity when on the automatic pilot and he did not want to worry the pilot. I have been troubled in the same way in her first days of flying and after that I always managed to borrow few sanitary cops from the TransCanada airlines before leaving Montreal. He was delighted when I offered him three of the pint size ones.
I forgot all about them until the night of the departure and he had to remind me. I ran over to my plane and got them and it was like a child who was so pleased. He seemed happy we were getting underway as you’re not the slightest sign of nervousness or worry. I envied him because of my stomach as usual was tied in knots and I was wishing it was all over. I helped him aboard his plane and watch them taxi over. In 10 minutes we followed in a few moments later the radio I heard Bill Snailham ask for bearings to get them back to the airport and something told me that all was not well. It was a long night as every song ground station concern took turns calling his home and we knew they were lost.
I will always regret that I knew him only for four days has knowing him, it seems natural that he had done so much for humanity. That you thought not of himself and only those poor people who were suffering so much in the whole country was proven by spirits and understanding such a dangerous trip. It was sad news we heard in Glasgow a few days later that they had found a plane and he was dead. That was February 20, 1941.”