Company pin returned to city veteran after 72 years
Judy Booth’s eyes glistened as she reunited Hubert Gregory with the tiny lapel pin once given to him to authenticate his life-saving emergency jump, 72 years after the Second World War veteran ordered everyone off an Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) trainer plane.
The Ottawa woman drove to Peterborough on Tuesday with her husband Chesley to return the distinctive Caterpillar Club pin to the resident of Applewood Retirement Residence. She tracked him down after finding the keepsake while sorting through her late mother’s possessions.
“Holy mackerel,” Gregory, 93, exclaimed after Booth handed him the silkworm pin, which has his last name and the date of the 1945 jump near Orangeville engraved on the back. “I’ll be God-darned. That is unbelievable.”
Before getting the pin, Gregory produced an aged card identifying him as a member of the club, an informal association of those who have successfully used a parachute to bail out of a disabled aircraft. It was founded in 1922 by Leslie Irvin of the Irvin Airchute Co. of Canada.
“That’s the only thing I ever saved. Why I held on to that, I have no idea,” he told Booth as she fought to control her emotions.
The recent-retiree told a colleague about finding the pin, before the researcher offered to do some investigating for her.
A Jan. 7, 1945 story in the nowdefunct Ottawa Journal about Gregory’s jump provided the first clue, leading them to an obituary notice that contained his grandmother’s address in Ottawa. Bitby-bit, they pieced together the information before contacting his son, Eric.
“It’s a small world,” said the younger Gregory, who accompanied his dad during Tuesday’s meeting and reunion. “It’s a really cool story ... it is very heartwarming.”
Booth showed the veteran a photocopy of that newspaper story, which bears the headline Ottawa Flyer Forced To Bail Out But Lands Unhurt.
He then described what happened. Many of the details are now vague to him, but the spry nonagenarian – who is known for always taking the stairs with his Fitbit, not the elevator, at the Lansdowne St. W facility – recalls the fateful flight.
He and three other airmen flew out of Toronto to Kingston on an administration course and were returning when they encountered a snow storm. As the conditions worsened, Gregory watched the fuel gauge creep critically low.
“I had to make a decision. Either hope I could fly out of the snow, or get out,” he said.
The young man landed in a farmer’s field in the snow, with no idea of where he was. He walked to a nearby farmhouse where he was able to telephone the nearby Malton airport.
Gregory was what he called an “in-between” at the time of the crash. He was in the air force, but had been hired as a civilian pilot in order to be in ferry command. He trained for the role, but never crossed the ocean as the war was winding down.
“I guess they figured we knew too much,” he said.
Tuesday’s meeting was a rare instance where the veteran opened up about his experiences. The long-time legionnaire even stopped attending the ex-service organization years ago because he was tired of hearing others talking about it. “I don’t replay what went on ... I was never one to replay or relive what happened during the war.”
The lapel pin may have been reunited with its owner Tuesday, but the mystery of just how it ended up in the jewellery box of Booth’s mother remains a mystery.
Her father, a Spitfire pilot, served 38 years in the RCAF, but never did an emergency jump.
Booth’s family did live not far from Gregory – they lived on Glen Ave. while he lived with his grandparents on Fulton St. or Sunnyside Ave. He was born in the nation’s capital and married there in 1946 before moving to Kingston, but returned months later.
“I still can’t put it together how this ended up in their hands,” Gregory said, still holding the pin before Booth showed him several photos of her dad, with no success in triggering his memory.
She told him she wanted to return the pin because when she knew it didn’t belong to her father, she knew it belonged to someone elses.
Gregory recalls getting the card shortly after the jump, but not the pin. It may have arrived several months, or even a year later, he said. “I’m curious as to how it got from one hand to another ... I have no idea where this got to.”
Asked how they were feeling after they shared a parting embrace, Booth was all smiles as she called the meeting “overwhelming.”
“I was surprised, to say the lest,” Gregory said.
Both pledged to continue efforts to find out how ownership of the pin changed hands.