Dear Denise,
Thank you so much for allowing me to put down on paper the remarkable story of your journey to honour your father, Dennis Duxfield. I remember the first time I heard you tell this story. I was totally amazed by how the all the pieces fell together in your effort to discover the father you had never known. Somehow after some 60 years you were able to come to peace with your father's death. All those seemingly little coincidences could only be explained in my mind as God moments.
As you know, the story I wrote was based on your reflections of the events of your journeys to the Netherlands and also on actual historical accounts from the Second World War. The story seemed to write itself and was a real pleasure for me to accomplish. It made me feel as though I was a part your journey as well. My loving wife, Rachelle, had always urged me to help you share your story. It is my hope that this short narrative will be a tale of inspiration for not only your family and friends but for all the future generations in the lineage of your father.
Just recently, I read an article concerning losing a loved one. It said, "Sharing memories of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them."
It is my hope that this story will help you to continue to share your memories of the father, you never knew, but never forgot.
With Love,
Your Friend,
Dave Leslie
GONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN
DENNIS DUXFIELD
Oct. 31, 1914 - May 20, 1942
“Gone But Never Forgotten"
Story written by Dave Leslie, as told by Denise Morneau
The moon lit up the sky that night glowing like a beacon for all to see. There was not a cloud in the sky and the cool crisp air of spring seemed to slap at the face of the young airman keeping him alert. His name was Pilot Officer Dennis Duxfield, a proud member of the Royal Canadian Air Force. Like many other young men from his hometown of Timmins, Ontario, Dennis had enlisted in the RCAF just as World War 2 was beginning in 1940. He was quickly sent out to Winnipeg, Manitoba for his training and graduated first in his squad as a wireless operator/air gunner. It was on his last leave before being deployed to England in July 1941 that he married his true love, Florence Pilon. Obviously their love did bloom as Florence was already pregnant with child before he left. Unfortunately, he would never get to hold this child in his arms or watch her grow up to adulthood.
The night of May 20th, 1942 started off just like every other night. Although Dennis was an officer in the RCAF, he was asked to fly with the Royal Air Force of Great Britain on a mission that night. The men of Squadron 418 of the RAF were used as "night intruders" flying deep into German occupied Europe on bombing missions and "messing up" enemy machinery wherever they could. They would also shadow enemy airdromes (small airports) and attack the enemy planes as they attempted to land. These night flyers or intruders were later given the name "Havoc" for obvious reasons.
The airplane of choice by both the RCAF and RAF throughout the years of the war was the Boston Bomber MRIII. The Bomber had a crew of only 3 men, a pilot, a front gunner/observer, and a rear gunner/wireless operator. The plane was 48 feet long with a wing span of over 61 feet and stood 17 12 feet high. Unlike the bigger Lancaster Bomber with 4 engines the Boston had only 2. It's top speed was 339 mph or 545 km/hr and had a range of 1091 miles. It could carry up to 4000 lbs. of bombs with 4 internal and 2 external. With a climbing rate of 1500 feet per minute it quickly became the premier airplane of the British.
Dennis and his two British crew mates, Riches and Stabb, gave "Irene," (the nickname of their plane), their usual check that night to ensure everything was secure and in order. They boarded "Irene" for what was unknowing to them to be their final tour of duty. Dennis was a big man standing 6 foot 3 or 4 inches and so crawling into his little spot in the back of the plane was always a wee bit tight for him, especially wearing a parachute. Being the rear gunner could also be quite cool as the glass shield above him only half covered his seat as his machine gun had to be open to the air to be able to turn unhindered. It probably took Dennis a while to get used to sitting in a half open carriage with only a seat harness between himself and the ground far below.
Their plane took off into the darkness without incident and everything was going as planned. They were given their target of Soesterberg Air Base, some 14 km. East North East of Utrecht in the German occupied portion of the Netherlands. Normally, when flying a night mission there was a bit of a cloud cover and visibility was very obscure. There was almost a sense of security in this cloak of darkness knowing that enemy forces could not see you as you flew over their territory. Tonight, however, it was eerily clear with only the stars and the moon shining so bright it almost seemed to cast their shadow to the ground nearly 20000 feet below.
On nights like this Dennis' mind would often wander back to his days in his hometown of Schumacher (since annexed by the town of Timmins). He was well known to all the town folks as he was quite the basketball star during his days at school. Being 6 foot 4" tall and having bright red hair made him stand out in the crowd and everyone around town just called him "Red." He liked his nickname and remembered when he first met his bride to be, Florence. She was young and beautiful and full of fun. He loved her from the first time he set eyes on her.
He pulled Florence's last letter from his tunic pocket that she had written to him and looked at the photograph of his now 2 month old daughter who he had never met. Florence had named the little girl, Denise, after him. He wanted so much to be with his new bride and daughter and hold them both tenderly in his arms. He had even written back to Florence and asked her not to baptize Denise until he got back home. He didn't want to miss one moment of all the important events of his darling little Denise. Unfortunately he knew he had unfinished business here in Europe that he must attend to first.
It seems that Dennis was one of the older men in the squadron. Although he was only 27 years of age, most of his crew mates were barely 20 years old and teased "Red" about being an old man on a regular basis. Old "Red" took it all in stride because he knew that when he needed help he could always count on his "Brothers in Arms."
Dennis quickly returned his thoughts back to the present as the sound of enemy "flak" sounded in the distance. Whenever they flew into enemy territory they knew they could expect to be welcomed with ground-based anti aircraft firing explosive shells at them. Unfortunately, tonight there were no clouds to take cover. They were totally exposed to enemy fire with no place to hide.
Dennis felt the plane making a quick turn to his right as they began their descent to drop a bomb on the airbase. Then out of nowhere, it happened. The noise of the shell exploding on their right wing was deafening and Dennis could feel the plane start to shudder as they quickly began to descend. There was no time to bail out. Dennis instinctively said a quick prayer knowing that he would never get to see his beautiful wife, Florence or hold his new born daughter, Denise, in his arms.
The plane crashed into the woods of estate "de Paltz" very close to the airbase. The crew of the Boston Bomber "Irene" had now completed their final tour of duty. The shelling had now stopped and the ear piercing noise of the exploding shells was replaced with the eerie silence of the woods.
It was a warm evening early in June when Florence heard the footsteps creaking on the stairs of her front porch. She wondered to herself whoever could it be at this late hour. She had just put little Denise to sleep in her crib for the night and was just sitting down to enjoy a cup of tea. She arose from her seat quickly to answer the door before whoever it was knocked and woke the baby. She opened the door wide and saw a young man in uniform standing on her porch with an envelope in his hand. Instinctively, Florence knew this could not be good news. She found it hard to catch her breath and her heart began to pound in her chest. The young man told her that he was sorry to inform her but her husband, Dennis Duxfield, failed to return from an operational flight. Further details would follow in a letter to be sent to her and Dennis' parents, Edward and Agnes Duxfield.
Florence was devastated by the news, but she never gave up hope that he would return. In fact she told the local newspaper reporter that she refused to believe this news and firmly believed that her husband was a prisoner in some enemy internment camp. Backing up her belief, Florence purchased a $500.00 bond in the Fifth Victory Loan drive, which was probably all of her savings considering the average annual income in 1940 was less than a $1000.00.
It's funny how the years have a way of healing old wounds but somehow you never can forget them. Although that "little Denise" had grown into a beautiful woman, married to her loving husband Jack Morneau for many years, had 7 children, over a dozen grandchildren, had a long fulfilling career as a registered nurse, there was always something missing. Deep inside she still ached for the father she had never known.
It's been said that there is no such thing as a coincidence, only God moments. That seems to be the case with Denise and the search for her father. Denise's first cousin, Dennis, who just happened to be named after her father, moved to Holland and married his wife Joanne. Joanne knew of Denise's desire to find the burial plot of her father and did some research to see if they could find where he was buried. Joanne sent Denise a note stating they had found the gravesite in Amersfoort, very close to where they now live. He was buried in The Netherlands at Amersfoort General Cemetery, plot 13, row 2.
It was now Denise's wish to finally put some closure to this chapter of her life and visit her Father's gravesite. Unfortunately, life has a way of leading us down a different path and the opportunity for Denise to go to the Netherlands just kept being put off time and time again. It was around this time that Denise's youngest daughter Monique, informed her mother that she was moving with her boyfriend to Germany where he was to play hockey with one of the local professional teams. Monique suggested to her mother that this would be a great time for her to come for a visit to Germany and ultimately to make a visit to the Netherlands.
Denise wasn't sure if she could go and balked at the idea of visiting Germany and the Netherlands alone. If you know the Morneau's you know they are a close knit group and Monique wouldn't take "No" for an answer. Being close to Christmas, Monique asked her 6 siblings to give her Mom money for Christmas so she could go to Germany. They all knew how important this was to their mother and not only did they all give her money for the trip, but the other 2 daughters, Jolayne and Kara decided to go with her. Denise could not find anymore excuses and the trip was set.
Two months after that Christmas in late February 2001, the journey began. Denise and her two daughters boarded a plane out of Detroit headed for Frankfurt, Germany. Ten hours later they arrive in Frankfurt where Monique was waiting for them and after 15 minutes of the infamous "Morneau Hugs" they were on their way to Monique's home and to see some of the sights and sounds of Frankfurt.
Two days later, they are off to visit Denise's cousin Joanne and her daughter Danielle in Bennekom, Netherlands before heading off to the cemetery in Amersfoort. From this part of the story I will let Denise tell you in her own words taken from her journey diary of her experience at her father's grave.
We've arrive at Amersfoort- beautiful grounds. It's like being in a large forest, many tall majestic trees, well kept gravel paths in some areas and dirt paths in other areas. There is a sense of awe, silence, and peace here. The mood for all of us has changed from the car to this site. I feel anxious. I feel the tightness in my chest; is this going to be good or not?
We walk through an area where only Russian soldiers are buried. Their burial ground is separate from the rest. I am so glad Joanne and Danielle came prior to our visit because they had a good idea as to how to find it. As we walked through this section where my Dad is buried, it was nice to see that the Canadian graves are in a row, but the next row is for civilians, with large tombstones. They are intermingled with the local people's graves, so it doesn't feel so stark.
As we walk nearer the grave, I became overwhelmed with a tightness in my whole body but especially in my chest. I had difficulty breathing; I felt so strange.
I can't even describe it. I felt like my heart was so full and it hurt so much. I thought it was going to explode. I began to cry and sob out loud. Joanne held me. I could feel her compassion and caring and love. To see that stone with
PILOT OFFICER
D. DUXFIELD WIRELESS OPERATOR/AIR GUNNER
ROYAL CANADIAN AIR FORCE
20" MAY 1942 AGE 27
was very emotional. In front of the stone, they have planted ground cover which is just like the ground cover at the side of our house. That is something, I think. I knelt on the ground and thanked Dad for loving my mother and marrying her because I'm sure they had to get married. He saved me from being illegitimate which would have put another black mark against me. That was not acceptable in those days.
I cried and cried. They all gave me private time. I forgave Dad for not coming back. I told him I loved him; I loved him so much, even though I didn't know him. I said goodbye and left my fear of abandonment at his gravesite, never to be plagued with that anymore. My heart hurts so much; how I wish he had been in my life. I read out loud a poem, my friend Lea wrote for me and assured him I will never forget this moment. I feel bad I did not bring a flower or anything. I feel very sad about that.
I walked over to Jo, Kara and Monique and hugged them closely. I hugged Joanne and Danielle as well and thanked them for being so kind and bringing me here. There is a registry book there which they keep enclosed. I signed it and so did the girls. I wrote “Thanks, Dad, for giving your life so that so many could live".
My Dad was one of the older ones to give his life. I think the oldest I saw was 34 years but there were so many 18, 19, 20 years old. It certainly reminds me how tragic war is. I think the girls were deeply moved also to stand at their grandfather's grave, whom they have never known but I've tried to remind them of his importance in my life.
It was now time to make the return trip home to Canada. Denise's two daughters, Jolayne and Kara, made the trip a week ahead of their mother. Denise had decided she would stay an extra week with her daughter Monique and her boyfriend, Chris, and enjoy their company a little longer before leaving. Denise had finally got to put some closure on her father's death, and she knew that life would soon return to it's hectic normal with all her children and even more grandchildren to keep her occupied upon her arrival back home.
A few months after returning home, Denise received a letter in the mail postmarked from Amersfoort in the Netherlands. The letter was from the caretaker who worked at the cemetery where her father was buried. The caretaker's name was Kees Blankenstijn and he said that he had taken care of the 231 graves of “his boys" that never got to return home from the war for close to 50 years. He said he had met almost all the families of the servicemen that had died during the 2nd World War and had always wondered about the family of D. Duxfield since he had never seen any of his family members at the grave. He had recently retired and had received information that some of Dennis' family must have been at the gravesite because of Denise's entry in the cemetery's registry book. Kees was very interested in finding out more about Denise and her family and told her he would love to meet her should she come back again.
Denise responded to Kees and was able to give him the peace of mind that Dennis Duxfield's daughter and family cared deeply for Dennis, the father and grandfather they had never known. Dennis may be gone but never forgotten.
It's amazing how quickly the years pass by and soon it was in the early months of 2005 that Denise received a letter from her cousin Joanne in the Netherlands. It seems that in the first week of May the town of Ameersfort and many other locations in Holland were celebrating the 60th anniversary of their freedom and liberation from the German occupation during the war. Joanne informed her that due to unforeseen circumstances that this may be the last year that Holland will celebrate this event in their history. She implored Denise to come again and experience firsthand the respect and admiration of the Holland people for their Canadian liberators and heroes. After much consideration Denise decided that she would return to the place of her father's grave and celebrate his life and sacrifice for the freedom of others.
Denise decided to make the trip to the Netherlands by herself. She knew her cousin, Joanne, would be there to pick her up and let her stay at her home and of course chauffeur her back and forth to the cemetery. Sure enough, upon landing in Amsterdam, there was Joanne waiting for Denise with open arms.
Upon returning to Joanne's place that night, Joanne informed her that there would be a walk through Ameersfoort cemetery the next day to honour all the men and women who died during the war on this 60th anniversary of their freedom. Little did Denise know, that Joanne had let the Mayor of Ameersfoort and other local officials know that her cousin from Canada would be coming and told them of her father's story. When Denise arrived at the cemetery, she was warmly welcomed and asked to come meet the Mayor and his associates. To Denise's amazement she was asked to represent her father and Canada in the walk.
The ceremony began with a short service offering their prayers for the souls of all that died and in thanksgiving for their sacrifice. A trumpet sounded in the distance playing a mournful "Taps" and the very large crowd began to walk in silence around the rows and rows of graves with the stones seeming to stand even taller as if saluting the crowd as they passed. Denise was asked to help lead the walk and followed closely behind the Mayor. Denise looked back behind her beholding the great mass of marchers for as far as she could see. Each one of the marchers carried flowers in their arms, to be later placed on the graves of their heroes.
The walk was now over, so Denise and Joanne slowly manoeuvred their way through the crowd to visit Dennis' gravesite. This time Denise had brought a framed picture of her Dad and a vigil light to be placed on his grave for the duration of her stay in Holland. Those same old feelings from her first visit, four years previous were still embedded in her brain as she knelt down to place the picture and vigil light. The floodgate of tears and all her emotions spilled forth as she cried out a mournful sob. All those years of not knowing her father surfaced as she fell to both knees with Joanne cradling her in her arms.
Denise and Joanne returned back to Joanne's home in Bennekom that night as there was going to be a parade in Bennekom the next day. It seems that later in the day the parade was to pass right by Joanne's house and they could watch right from her front yard. Denise was amazed to see thousands of people walking the streets and celebrating the 60th anniversary of their emancipation from Germany. Denise even joined in cheering for those participants as they passed by them.
Before Denise had left Canada she had purchased many Canadian flags and Terry Fox commemorative coins that she could hand out if the occasion ever arose. Well the occasion was now and she proudly handed out the flags and coins to everyone she could with a real sense of honour to be able to represent her home country of Canada. A little boy came up to her and Denise leaned down and gave him a flag and a coin. The little boy's father who was standing beside her bent down and said to his son, “You keep that forever; Canada saved our country." Denise had never been prouder of her Dad than at that moment. His death had meaning and she could feel and see that meaning in the eyes of that child. What a blessing.
The day after the parade Denise knew it would soon be time to return home. Denise and Joanne and her daughter Danielle decided they would make one last visit to the gravesite. They arrived at the cemetery and slowly walked among the grounds marvelling how well maintained the property was kept. Denise had come to say her final farewell and collect her picture of her father from his grave.
As Denise approached her father's grave she noticed that someone had recently placed more flowers at her father's site and also the two graves of his two crew mates on both his left and right. As she began to kneel beside her father's grave, she saw a man and two women approaching on the path passing by behind her. That was when she heard one of the women say, "Does somebody here know Dennis Duxfield?" Denise slowly rose up from her kneeling position and for the first time in her life said, "That's my Dad" and immediately broke into tears. Without hesitating and without reason Denise put out her arms and hugged this woman with all her heart not knowing who she was or why she said her father's name. This woman responded by hugging Denise and she too began to sob uncontrollably.
After what seemed like minutes, Denise asked how she knew her Dad. She introduced herself as Anna, and explained to Denise that she had tended to Denise's father's gravesite and the ones on each side of Dennis' for over 12 years. In fact, she had just placed the flowers she saw at the 3 graves earlier today. She said that when she was still a young girl in Grade 7, the students in her class were asked to make a vow to help maintain the gravesites of the proud men and women that gave their lives for their freedom. They all promised to keep this vow until they married or moved from the country and these were the 3 gravesites she was assigned after the war. Those 3 sites were the crew of Squadron 418 that were shot down on May 20th, 1942.
Anna went on further to say how she was in touch with the families of N.J. Stabb, the pilot and G.M. Riches, the observer, and always wondered about her third family, the family of Dennis Duxfield, the wireless operator/gunner of the crew. She told Denise how she had even sent a letter to her mother, Florence, over 50 years ago but did not receive a response. Denise informed Anna that by the time her mother would have received that letter she would have already been remarried and it was probably very uncomfortable for her to discuss with her new husband and so she never responded.
They exchanged addresses and phone numbers and promised to keep in touch and Denise told her stories of her own 7 children and 14 grandchildren and that Dennis' lineage would carry on for generations to come. Anna was so relieved and excited to have finally met her third and final family of the 3 men she had cared for all those years. She said that still to this day she would often visit their graves and pay homage to them for their service and sacrifice. Anna told Denise before they parted that their meeting one another was not an accident, but truly the "touch of God." This just confirmed to Denise that God was definitely leading her throughout this entire journey in her quest to honour her father.
Unfortunately, it was time for Denise to return home to Canada to her own family. She would return with a new found pride not only in her Dad but also in her home country of Canada and their role in the history of not just Holland but of the world.
It was the week after returning home that she received an unexpected email from the Netherlands. The email was from Katinka de Groot-Blankenstijn, the eldest daughter of Kees. It was May 14th and she said that she had just received Denise's latest letter to Kees today. It was with great sadness that she reported that Kees had died in July of the previous year and how sorry she was that she did not get to meet Denise the previous week while still in the Netherlands. She went on further in her email to say that Kees was laid to rest in the same cemetery as Denise's Dad very near to all "his boys." She also enclosed a picture of Kees' dog named Bassie lying at Kees' grave.
What a very fitting ending to a beautiful story of reconciliation with the past and hope for the future generations to come.
I will finish this story with the poem written by Denise's friend Lea Grondin. I'm sure that you will agree it is not only the voice of Dennis Duxfield but of all those brave men and women that sacrificed their lives so that their children could live in freedom.
MY DEAREST DAUGHTER:
I wished that I had been there to tuck you in at night,
To wipe away your tears, and protect you from your fright.
I wished that I had walked you down the aisle,
To give you away, and see your lovely smile.
To hold and cuddle my beautiful grandchildren, I wasn't there to do,
Knowing they are in caring hands, was left for you to do.
I've loved you always my precious daughter,
I thank God for making me your father.
As you walk away from my place of rest,
Do not be saddened, for comes the best.
Heaven awaits us all to be,
Together as a loving family.
From Your LOVING & PROUD DADDY
