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| Ivan Culbert (right) with his parents, Myron & Effie Culbert at Poplar Farm near Lucan. His brother, Mel Culbert is in the background. This photo was taken 20 January 1940 as he was setting off to serve overseas during WWII. |
Ivan's son, Phil Culbert wrote a tribute to him in this previous post.
Ivan was stationed overseas during the Second World War for five years. During that time, he wrote many letters to his friends and family back home and had articles published in the London Free Press newspaper.
The following is one of those letters. It was written on 17 June 1940 to his parents back at Poplar Farm. I don't know the date of publication in the London Free Press.
Part of the article is cut off so I've transcribed the article word-for-word below the image.
Soldier in France
Lucan Boy Writes of Trip Arrival in France and Bringing Down a German Plane
Editor Free Press: The following letter of interest was received by Mr. and Mrs. Myron Culbert, of Lucan, from their son, Lance-Corp. Ivan H. Culbert, who is now back in England after a trip to France:
June 17, 1940
Dear Home Folks:
Here I am riding in a first-class coach, my shoes off for the first time in six days, writing to my home to tell you all about it. I am hoping to get enough money somewhere to send a telegram when we reach our destination to let you know I am safe. You see, we have not been paid for nearly a month and it is the first time in my life that I have really been broke.
We left the camp late last Wednesday night, traveling by train to the embarking port, and immediately got aboard ship. It took all night to go, and by the time we were all on the ship it was noon. About 4 p.m. we set out for Brest, France. You will see by your map it is quite a piece south.
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| Source: Wikipedia |
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| Ivan shot this image of his crowded troop ship heading to Brest, France in June 1940. Ivan and his comrades were ready to see action for the first time. Photo courtesy of Phil Culbert. |
It took all night to go across the English Channel and we landed about 7 a.m. We went ashore and after a little rest we were loaded on dirty old freight cars, all set to go to Paris, a distance of 500 miles.
Our meals consisted of bully beef, hardtack and tea. The hot water for the tea was obtained from the engine boiler. Jam and cheese was given to us off and on.
Every now and then the old train would stop to take on water, and the French people would come running to the train with red wine.
It was surely pitiful to see the women and children out in the fields trying to take off the hay and do the work of the men, who were fighting for their country, some never to return. Yet even more pitiful were the sights we saw on the highways and railway platforms of refugees from Paris. You would see a woman with her baby and several children, half-starved, sitting on the station platform waiting for the next train to come and take them to safer parts of France, or possible over here to England. They were like ourselves, riding in freight cars, with just what they could grab as they left their homes in Paris.
We had a chap in our car who could speak French and he was able to talk to them and tell us some of their terrible stories of what they had gone through. We shared our cans of bully beef with them and you should have seen the poor wee kiddies eat that hardtack just as if it were a piece of chocolate.
We tried to sleep that night on the bare floor but got little rest. Early the next morning about 30 miles out of Paris we were stopped at a station by a French officer, who told us to turn back. He said the Germans had blown up the station where we were going and we would be very little use against such heavy tanks as they were using. We immediately turned back and started for Brest. I do think, mother, that God was protecting us and saved our lives. Isn’t it wonderful?
We reached Brest late that evening and were loaded back on board ship here, to spend the night in harbor, as it was too dangerous to set out by night. We had all settled down to sleep, about 3,000 of us, for a good night’s rest. About 1 a.m. the signal was given: Enemy aircraft overhead and to fire on them. It was a German plane, flying quite low, and we immediately fired on him and it was one grand display of fireworks. Those who were not firing were lying down on the floor in case of bombs being dropped, but the best part of it all was that we got him. Yes, he was found the next morning with hundreds of holes in the plane and several in himself. The remainder of the night was quiet.
We left Brest about 4 the next afternoon and returned to England, bringing with us the few that remained from the Paris attack of British soldiers along with several wounded.
On the way over we saw many of those flying fish. They would jump up in the air about two feet and dive in again. It was fun to watch them, and we also saw a whale spurting water from its nose. Yes, folks, all kinds of fun and excitement.
So here we are on the train going somewhere in England, not knowing where. However, we are safe here and will not be going to France again, as the navy and air force will finish this struggle for us. Who knows, I may be home to help eat those roosters before they are ready. I am hoping to get that telegram away soon, to let you know everything is all right.
Well, I must close now and get some sleep Hope all are well and I will write again soon. Remember me to all the neighbors and friends.
Much love to all.
Your loving son.
IVAN.
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