Memories of the War Years at Fenelon Falls Continuation School

By Murray Hetherington

My years (1941-1946) at Fenelon Falls Continuation School almost coincided with the years of World War II. But the war did not seem to affect our school lives greatly; except on days like the day they came to get Willa Sheehey out of class because her family had just received the telegram informing them that her brother, Glen, had paid the supreme sacrifice in Italy (at Cassino, I think). Telegrams were bad news in those years.

I am sure there were shortages of materials that our teachers had to cope with, but as students we really were not aware of any real problems. The teacher I remember best was Mrs. Creighton. She was a great tutor. She had the ability of explaining things so well that all members of her class understood and remembered. She taught mathematics and science. I remember her telling us that the atom was the smallest piece of matter and could not be broken. Little did she know that perhaps at that very moment, millions (maybe billions) of atoms were being split in an experimental atomic explosion over the desert sands at Alamogordo, New Mexico.

The Cadet Corps was an important part of our school life in the forties. In 1942 Norm Maidens (he worked the Ontario Hydro) was brought in as cadet instructor because we didn’t have a male teacher in the 1942-43 school year. We also had girl cadets, who were instructed by Ruth Honey. The time hadn’t come to have a female teacher as leader of the boy cadets.

The first year that we had cadets we were issued World War I uniforms, compete with puttees that had to be wrapped around our legs. We had wooden guns with which to present arms. The next year we were supplied with real guns (although I think the firing pins had been removed). We did have some working rifles for target practice which was held on the top floor of the old stone mill between the bridges.

In 1943, five or six of us attended cadet camp near Ottawa for one week. It was my first trip away from home. They took us out at night to see tracer bullets arcing through the sky. In the daytime we had target practice with 303 rifles. We soon learned to take a folded towel to the range to place on our shoulder (under our shirts so the officers would not see it) to protect against the kick of the 303 every time we pulled the trigger.

Inspection day in the spring was the culmination of each year’s cadet training. That was “spit and polish” day. Colonel Holmes came from Kingston for our inspection which took place on the main street, usually in front of Armstrong’s Garage (later Bert’s Appliances, now Highlands Propane). Marching across the bridges we had to “break step” because it was said the rhythmic force of all being “in step” could cause the bridge to vibrate and shake. It made you feel very powerful.

Other than war recollections, one vivid memory is the day Bell Telephone representatives came to demonstrate the latest in communication equipment. All one hundred and some of us were ushered into the assembly room for the demonstration. One of the pieces they had was a tape recorder. It was about the size of a large suitcase. We had never seen or heard such an instrument. We were given the opportunity of recording our voices. Boy! Were we surprised when they played back! It didn’t sound at all like what we thought we sounded.

In those days there were no school buses. Most of us walked at least a mile to and from school. Those living in the country, or up north, arranged either to live with a family in the village for the school year, or shared in a car pool (liability insurance didn’t seem to be a problem). One transportation vehicle was Wilkinson’s red panel truck. Each school day morning Hugh left his home on Four Mile Lake picking up several students (as many as seven sometimes) on his way to Fenelon Falls. When the weather wasn’t too cold the red panel truck was a popular place for a hidden rendezvous at noon or recess.

Initiation was always feared by first year students. It never went too far, although it was very uncomfortable sitting in class for the rest of the day after being forced to sit on the water fountain for 30 seconds or so. That’s what the boys did. I don’t know what happened to first year girls.

For my last 2 or 3 years at FFCS Mr. Goheen was the principal and a teacher. Mr. Goheen was a very sober man—he hardly ever smiled. Perhaps it was because he was concerned that if the war continued a few more years one of his three sons would be called up. Then on May 7, 1945, V.E. (Victory in Europe) Day arrived. When Mr. Goheen heard, he called us to an assembly, to tell the good news, and gave us the rest of the day off. We walked in a large group over to the main street, shouting and cheering. Mr. Goheen, with a smile on his face a mile wide, led us.