The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

pertise in Morse code. But first they assign you a special job. You're in a unit tasked with flying planes to Britain for use in its defense against the Germans. In Ferry Command, you pick up planes at Montreal's Dorval field. They're manufactured in the U.S. and either flown or driven across the border in pieces on trucks since the Americans are not yet in the fight. You fly the planes to Gander and from there to England. It's a long cold trip. Once, you needed to switch gas tanks over the North Atlantic. You clambered back in the fuselage and strained to turn the crank till suddenly the pilot yelled that you were turning it the wrong way, that they'll soon be empty. On one landing, soldiers greet the plane, cheering and running to the aircraft. Appreciating the reception, you quickly learn their cheers are for the crates of Cokes and sandwiches you're bringing. You're then stationed in Doncaster, England, and fly Halifax bombers over Europe. A crash landing on a British beach ends your active service. Four crew members are killed and you spend months in hospital recuperating. Decades after the war, having never really talked about what went on, you secretly meet with other Air Force vets to reminisce. Upon your return, your mother had thrown out your service uniform, but you rescued the flight helmet, boots, and bag. Years later, one son unearths the trove in a closet and wears the flight boots to school in winter, his books in the flight bag. Your other son dons the flight helmet on Halloween. But every November 11, you sit silently in front of the TV, watching the ceremony from the National War Memorial in Ottawa, eyes red and welling up, remembering.