Mary Sadler, née Nelson
I |
Page II
We proceeded
to the north end of the hangar...and into the radio room. The first sight that caught my eye
was another navy-blue uniform, on a long, thin, bespectacled fellow who was holding down an otherwise empty
table, and dangling his feet below it. Jack introduced him as Gordon
Sadler [Mary's future husband] and
he was supposed to be helping the pilots with their Morse code that day, but at the moment
there were no pilots around. Another long, thin, bespectacled character in a navy-blue
uniform, this one wearing earphones, was introduced as Arnold Douglas,
he was
the operator on duty that day. He was surrounded by radio equipment. There was the receiver,
which didn't look too different from the one we had used in Takia, and the Morse
key. The little box that appeared to be the transmitter was somewhat different, and
I was surprised that their transmitter wouldn't be much bigger, but
Jack explained
that this was only the remote unit. The transmitters were housed in a building half a
mile down 116th Street. This remote unit had a dial on the front, with four finger holes.
The transmitters had two channels, A and B, and on each of these it was possible
to use both phone and "CW" (or continuous wave, which is how we often referred to Morse
code).
...On the wall
in front of Arnold,
there were also three telephones. Not being much used to
telephones, I wondered what I
would do if they all rang at once. Little did I know then, it could sometimes happen!
One phone was connected to the switchboard in the guardhouse;
the second one was a
direct line to the meteorology ("met") office;
and the third was a direct line to the Edmonton control tower at the west end of the field. On
another table against the wall
behind Arnold, sat another receiver, and this one was kept
tuned to the tower at all times, so we could hear everything that was going on out there.
Just when I was beginning to feel a little bit confident
about all this, something went wrong. Arnold was off the air! It turned out a workman
had accidentally cut the cable that connected the radio room to the transmitter house,
so now the operator at the transmitters would have to take over the "skeds"
(scheduled calls). Jack and Gordon decided this was a good time to show me the transmitters,
so we rattled down 116th Street in Jack's old jalopy....There sat a lone building with
red and white antenna poles outside.
Jack and Gordon showed me the transmitters. I think there were five of them at
that point, although only one was in use, and I was surprised at how big they were! They were
taller than I was, much, much, wider, and must have weighed hundreds of pounds each.
Jack and Gordon were then determined to teach me how to tune a transmitter, as
if I didn't have enough to digest for one day! I have always wondered why they were
so obsessed with this, because in all the time I worked there, I never did have
to tune a transmitter! It did have to be done from time to time, but we had technicians to
do that, for Pete's sake! I suspect they were just giving me a hard
time....
By the time we got back to the radio room, the morning flight
was in and all accounted for and it was lunchtime. I went by myself to
the canteen, where I met a girl who had just been hired to work in the office. She was Betty
Reid, Wop May's cousin from Saskatchewan. Her sister Margaret was the head
switchboard
operator in the guardhouse. We went in together, and found the usual wartime
canteen, with airmen everywhere, plus a goodly number of
civilian pilots and
other employees. The jukebox was always busy, and blared
out tunes....We found out, very early, one
simple fact—we girls could stand at the counter for a long
time before anybody waited on us. As long as there were
men drifting in, they got all the attention, no matter who
was there first!
It was the end of day one in the radio room. It had all
been very exciting, and I was still feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland when
I climbed back on the bus to go downtown to the YWCA.
|
|
|