When war became imminent in Europe in 1939, men either volunteered or were drafted into military service. Many went on to experience the full brunt of battle, either on the ground, in the air, or at sea. While the unlucky ones paid the ultimate price for their participation, others returned home safely at war's end.

But there were also those who, despite volunteering and through no fault of their own, did not see active service in a theatre of war. They did not return home as heroes, with rows of medals to prove their valour, yet they had formed a valuable part of a trained international force which was ready, willing and able to serve King and country wherever required at a moment's notice. Here, The Royal Gazette's Nancy Acton reports on the stories of three such men, all of whom left Bermuda intending to contribute to the Allied war effort through service in the Royal Canadian Air Force, but whose willingness was thwarted by time.

Like so many gung-ho young men, when 18-year-old Herbert J. (Chummy) Zuill sensed that war would soon be declared, his immediate reaction was to volunteer for active duty, even though, as an American citizen, he didn't have to sign up for anything at the time because the US was not involved.

Thus it was that, having been raised in Bermuda, Mr. Zuill reported to then-Commanding Officer of the Bermuda Volunteer Engineers (BVE's), Major Cecil (Mookie) Montgomery-Moore, DFC, and indicated his wish to join the Royal Air Force or the Royal Canadian Air Force.

"Major Moore and my father had been in the Royal Flying Corps in World War I, Major Moore as a pilot, so he was always willing to help anyone who was interested in getting into the air force, and he had a bunch of mates, like the famous Canadian WWI flying ace, Billy Bishop, who would facilitate things,'' Mr. Zuill said. "In fact, it was Mr. Bishop who gave me my wings when I graduated.'' The drill for all local recruits aspiring to serve overseas was to first join one of the local regiments: the Bermuda Volunteer Rifle Corps (BVRC) or the BVE's. Those who passed their battery of tests -- written, oral and physical -- were then sent to the US Naval Operating Base here to undergo the submariner's physical. This was much more rigorous because the relevant authorities did not wish to be in a position of having to send back to Bermuda those who failed to meet subsequent tests abroad.

Having passed the local screenings with flying colours, Mr. Zuill and his compatriots were flown to Canada, landing on the river at Boucherville opposite Montreal in early 1942 by Wing Commander E.M. (Mo) Ware (subsequently Bermuda's director of Civil Aviation) -- a journey that took the Catalina flying boat ten hours to complete.

Once received into the Royal Canadian Air Force, in this case the recruits were asked what they wanted to be.

"Of course, everyone said `a pilot','' Mr. Zuill remembers. "It turned out to be the biggest waste of time. I knew people who were still `training' after I got back to Bermuda in 1945!'' Now officially discharged from the BVE's and signed up with the RCAF, the men were billeted in the YMCA -- an event Mr. Zuill remembers for the quality of the milk they were served.

"It was so full of cream that the straw stood up it,'' he laughs. "We thought it was a milkshake, and protested we had ordered milk. We'd never seen milk of that quality before.'' Shortly after being sworn into the RCAF, Aircraftsman 2nd Class Zuill made his way to New York to visit relatives, and then reported to a Manning Depot at Lachine, Quebec, where thousands of others awaited processing and assignment.

Two weeks later, with his uniform issued, all the innoculations completed, and a pay packet in his pocket, Mr. Zuill and his friends set off on leave -- and blew the lot. Then it was off to Toronto with the rest of the lads to pursue their dream of becoming pilots. There the training was extremely rigorous and the discipline harsh, for the RCAF had a reputation of excellence to uphold.

"You might have been nothing before you came here,'' the recruits were admonished, "but you are gentlemen of the Air Force now. Try to behave like gentlemen.'' Although Mr. Zuill was among many ultimately eliminated from pilot training, he went on to successfully qualify as a wireless navigator and air gunner -- a process that included six months of "listening to morse code all day every day'' -- knowledge he says "you never forget'', and at which he became extremely proficient.

So proficient, in fact, that he was sent first to Toronto as captain of an air crew training navigators and bombadiers, and thence to Britain where he wound up, not flying, but at a tank school.

"It was 1944, and the Royal Air Force felt that since they had successfully fought the air war thus far, they wanted to win it themselves,'' Mr. Zuill relates. "So, unless you got into an Australian or Royal Canadian Air Force squadron, which was very difficult, the RAF didn't want you, and you were lucky if you saw a plane. That kept a lot of people out of the war.'' Given the choice of going to sea or riding around in tanks, Mr. Zuill chose the latter, but fortunately Victory in Europe (VE) Day came before too long, and he, along with thousands of others under the Canadian flag, was shipped back on the once-luxurious Ile de France.

Rightly surmising that the war in the Far East would soon conclude and therefore render his services unnecessary, Mr. Zuill volunteered for reassignment to Japan rather than guard duty in Germany. Thus it was that, while celebrating his return from Britain in New York, he was also able to celebrate Victory in Japan (VJ) Day in 1945.

Since it was RCAF policy to demobilise personnel from whence they enrolled, Mr. Zuill regained civilian status in Lachine, Quebec, leaving his uniform firmly behind. Travelling home with fellow Bermudian Malcolm Gosling, the duo rolled up to Darrell's Island in a flying boat, and then took the ferry to Hamilton.

"The following Monday I was back working at Ingham & Wilkinson,'' Mr. Zuill remembers, "and I haven't been back to Canada since.'' He has, however, travelled to other countries, and even retired to France in 1975 for five years, where he met his wife Astrid. Family life numbers three daughters (one now deceased), six grandchildren, and one great-grand child.

Mr. Zuill's career has included journalism and owning and publishing the Bermuda Weekly newspaper, which he founded. He is presently a volunteer course ranger at Riddell's Bay Golf Club, while continuing his personal search for the secret of golf.

*** "I got away with absolute murder,'' contends former Bermuda Volunteer Rifle Corps (BVRC) and Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) serviceman Norman Sumpter of his roles in the Second World War.

"In fact, when I attend the war vets' dinners for those who went overseas, and these fellow turn up with their medals, I always feel like an imposter. I was never unlucky enough to get into trouble.'' Nonetheless, despite his "reluctant hero'' approach, Mr. Sumpter, like many of his fellow countrymen, did play a part in the overall success of the Allied victory.

The way he tells it, his military service began, innocently enough, as a volunteer in the BVRC in 1938, but when war was declared on September 3, 1939 his status immediately changed to "active service'' for the duration of the conflict.

"When war broke out, I was in No. 7 platoon, "B'' Company, over a little office in the former Findlay's Meat Store, doing guard duties on a rubbish dump in Dockyard. Our Sergeant was John Saul, former UBP premier David Saul's father,'' he recalls. "We slept in tents and marched down to Moresby Plain for our meals.

"After a few weeks we were re-posted, and I finished up in Prospect as "B'' Company clerk. From there I volunteered for work in the Command Pay Office, and spent over two years there. After a disagreement with the regular Pay Corps staff, I returned to the Bermuda Volunteer Rifle Corps (BVRC) HQ Company and had a good time with the new recruits.'' A keen runner, Mr. Sumpter also joined the BVRC track team, winning mile races at both the Bermuda Athletic Association field and in a Commmand Sports meet at Prospect in consecutive weeks.

"I thought I was pretty hot stuff until I got to Montreal, where I ran a four-and-a-half minute mile and only came third!'' he recalls of a later experience.

Like many young Bermudians who learned of the possibility of joining the Royal Canadian Air Force, Norman Sumpter was enthusiastic, so he proceeded to the United States Naval Operating Base in Southampton for a preliminary medical, where his fitness to serve as air crew would be determined.

"Apparently I would have been 15 lbs. under the minimum weight for the United States Air Force,'' Mr. Sumpter remembers.

Following "a little tuition in navigation'', through classes held in the Dellwood School building, Mr. Sumpter says he was "lucky enough to go up to Montreal and be tested for the RCAF''.

"Their physical requirements were not as strict -- I weighed 123 lbs. soaking wet!'' he quips.

One of eleven fellow countrymen flown to Montreal by Wing Commander E.M. (Mo) Ware (acting as both pilot and navigator on the ten-hour journey), Norman Sumpter spent two years undergoing varied training, eventually finishing up with a Wireless Air Gunner wing.

Successfully graduating as a Pilot Officer, the young Bermudian was rarin' to go, but there was both good and bad news in store.

"The Commanding Officer said, `Now, gentlemen, we have all the air crew we need at this point so we are going to send you on leave for a month. Report back to the Manning Depot for discharge'.'' Thus it was that Pilot Officer Sumpter and three of his chums found themselves setting off the paint the town red -- in Chicago! Some weeks later, however, the RCAF changed its mind, advising the quartet by telegram that they should report back to the Manning Depot in Toronto for further posting.

"They sent us to Ottawa, and after four or five months of standing by, I met with and married a fellow Bermudian, Virginia (Ginty) Hooper, who was also serving in the RCAF,'' Mr. Sumpter relates. "That was in June, 1945 and VE (Victory in Europe) Day came soon after.'' Then the RCAF asked for volunteers for duty in the Pacific, and Pilot Officer Sumpter said `Yes'.

But once again, it was not to be. After waiting around for a few weeks, the Americans dropped the atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the Second World War was over.

Returning home to Bermuda with his wife (who died in New Zealand a few years ago), Mr. Sumpter eventually became a life underwriter for the Bermuda Fire & Marine Insurance Company Ltd. The couple had one son, Jim, who lives in New Zealand.

Now married to the former Mary (Jolley) Smith, Mr. Sumpter is at last enjoying retirement from "active duty''.

*** While war clouds gathered over Europe, 17-year old Harold Dale was working as an assistant superintendent at the Esso depot at Ferry Reach. As a former company sergeant-major in the Bermuda Cadet Corps, and the son of British-born channelmaster Captain Charles Dale, the teenager was anxious to do his part in helping to defend the Empire.

Unknown to his employer, he and his friend Noel Meyer set their sights on joining the Royal Canadian Air Force, but the screening requirements to even be considered were rigorous. Undaunted, the duo pedalled to Hamilton from St.

George's after work each evening to study for and take the appropriate examinations set by a special committee headed by former First World War pilot, Major Cecil (Mookie) Montgomery-Moore, DFC, which would allow them to go forward.

"In order to be considered, we first had to take courses in meteorology and engineering, and have medicals, because the Canadians didn't want to have to return people to Bermuda,'' Mr. Dale explains.

Meanwhile, back at Esso, young Dale's boss, Mr. Herbert Outerbridge, had successfully applied to have him exempted from military service since supplying fuel to the US military bases was considered a vital service.

"When he called me in to tell me that Parliament had given me a special exemption because of my work on the oil docks I said I was sorry, but I had passed everything to join the Royal Canadian Air Force, and was going away.'' Flown to Canada by Wing Commander E.M. (Mo) Ware in a Catalina flying boat in January, 1943, 18-year-old Harold Dale and his fellow young Bermudians spent the long flight hugging each other for warmth in the freezing cold bay of the aircraft before it landed on the river at Boucherville, opposite Montreal.

"We had never experienced cold like it,'' Mr. Dale remembers.

Once in Montreal, he successfully passed even stricter screening by the RCAF and was duly accepted for pilot training.

From initial training in Quebec, Mr. Dale went to Windsor Mills, Quebec, where he soloed in the dead of winter in a Tiger Moth fitted with skis, and ultimately qualified as a pilot in Hagersville, Ontario.

The new Pilot Officer was then put into a special squadron of Norwegians, Canadians and Royal Air Force personnel, whose pilots were able to fly two styles of mission: fighting, and bombing and strafing.

"They experimented with our squadron, and we never knew until we arrived at the aerodrome each morning whether we were taking up a single or a twin plane,'' Mr. Dale explains. "Thus, I graduated as both a fighter and bomber pilot.'' With his training complete, the young airman was posted to Great Britain, but not before returning home to Bermuda on embarkation leave. He laughs today when he recalls that his family gave him a fine farewell party before he left -- no doubt bearing in mind the dangers that their son faced.

On his way back to Canada, however, Pilot Officer Dale received a signal in New York from his superiors advising him to go no further. A subsequent letter informed large numbers of highly trained air crews that "because of the considerable progress of the war, Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand and the Unitef States have, for the present, considerable surpluses of air crew, and all are taking action to play the relocation of manpower in order to reduce need requirements''.

It was a case of "all dressed up and nowhere to go'' for Squadron 104, and needless to say Pilot Officer Dale and his fellow airmen were "furious'' that, after all the training, their hopes and aspirations of serving in combat in Europe had been denied.

In retrospect, however, Mr. Dale says he was probably lucky because, when the squadron was disbanded, those who went on to the Far East experienced some thoroughly unpleasant times.

Instead, in accordance with Air force policy, Mr. Dale was honourably discharged and placed on active reserve in the RCAF Reserve General Section until 1947, and told that he was free to return to school or university. Thus it was that he entered McGill University in 1945 at age 20, there to gain not only his Bachelor of Commerce degree, but also qualify as a Chartered Accountant. It is also where he met his wife, Marnie.

After graduation, Mr. Dale parlayed a successful New York interview with American International Reinsurance Company (AIRCO), the then-parent company of the American International Group, into an approximately 30-year career during which he rose to become Chief Financial Officer of AIRCO and second to the president, Mr. Ernest Stempel.

Declining the Company's offer to move to New York for family and health reasons, Mr. Dale went on to set up and become a partner in the firm of public accounts, Anfossi Dale -- thanks to a special agreement between Touche, Ross of Canada and AIRCO Group.

"I was offered jobs in the insurance industry but I didn't wish to compete with the AIRCO group, which I thought so highly of and in which I had had a very fine career, so I went back to public accounting, although I remained on the local board of AICO until a few years ago,'' the former insurance executive explains.

Mr. Dale's civic duties have included the chairmanship of the Insurance Advisory Committee, and service on the boards of various local sporting bodies. He is also a Fellow of the Institute of Chartered Accountants in Bermuda, and CA of Nova Scotia and Quebec.

A keen sportsman until a few years ago, Mr. Dale made his mark in in swimming, water polo and tennis, among other sports. His family includes two sons and a daughter: Robert, Susan and Jim.

Looking back on the war years, Mr. Dale says, "I loved flying but there were also some very troublesome times. Things happen in training that people don't hear about, but I am very proud to have served in the RCAF.'' And he remembers with particular fondness the presence of his fellow Bermudian, John (Biscuit) Watlington, who remains a great friend to this day.

Asking if he still had his RCAF flying jacket, the genial ex-pilot laughed: "Yes, but I can't get the wings on the sleeves past my elbows!''