‘Bus’ Davey, was my Father’s brother. He was born on November 25, 1921 in London, Ontario.
He enlisted in May, 1940 at the age of 18 because he had a good background in mechanics and wanted to fly in the Royal Canadian Air Force (R.C.A.F.). Perhaps to him, war represented an adventure, or it was a chance to protect freedom. Perhaps he served because his father, George Davey had joined the Army when the First World War began. Imperial bonds were strong then. So was a sense of duty. So was poverty and joining the war meant three square meals a day, uniforms and travel.
My Grandfather, George Davey, was part of the London 1st Battalion and was sent overseas and was thrown into the Battle of Ypres in 1915. Whatever illusion he had about the glamour of war must have been shattered in the trenches with the carnage and brutality that existed in no mans land. A German bullet hit George in his chest and his wound was so critical he was not expected to live. He did recover sufficiently in Wales where he met Selina, my Grandmother and they began their family in London, Ontario.
On his last visit home before going overseas, Bus gave his sister a letter and asked her not to show it to his mother until after he left.
Death came to “Bus” on October 2, 1944, when the plane he was flying crashed. Here is the poem he wrote:
AN AIRMAN’S PRAYER
Almighty and all present power,
Short is the prayer I make to Thee;
I do not ask in battle hour
For any shield to cover me.
The vast unalterable way:
From which the stars do not depart,
May not be turned aside to stay
The bullet flying to my heart.
I seek no help to strike the foe,
I see no petty victory here;
The enemy I hate, I know
To Thee is dear.
But this I pray; be at my side
When Death is drawing through the sky;
Almighty God who also died.
Teach me the way that I should die.
The late F/O E.R. Davey, 404 Squadron R.C.A.F.