Santa came in BLUE

Merry Christmas everybody - here is one of my favorite Christmas memories.

It was December, 1941 during World War Two when i was stationed at Oban, Scotland.
In one of my letters home I had asked Mom for some extra chocolate to give to the many little English kids who thought we Canucks had an endless supply.

 Mom belonged to a radio station club, KIRO, in Seattle. They had 20,000 members who 'listened in' every morning. It was a fun program, but their main purpose was to help the unfortun­ate. Mom sent my name in for membership and my letter to the Time Klock Klub, and it was read over the air.  Through the generosity of thousands of Americans and Canadians in the Pacific Northwst, cases of toys and candy arrived in England.  

   My C.O. kindly granted me special leave to go to London to meet with a Lady Sydney Marsham C.B.E. who greeted me at the Personal Service League headquarters.  She informed me that three 800 pound cases of toys and clothing and a ton of chocolate in two pound tins were at my disposal.  We mutually agreed that St. Andrews Hospital, in London’s East End, would be our target.  Hitler’s bombs had made scores of children there homeless and sad.  Our mission would bring them some happiness.

A nurse who came forward was quite obviously expecting someone in blue with 'CANADA' patches on his shoul­ders

She greeted me saying, "You must be Mr. Stofer." She intro­duced me to the head matron and the three of us went on a little farther and stopped in front of two big doors. They were swung open to reveal a very large ward. What a sight met my eyes! Down both sides of the ward were long tables around which sat scores of little children of all ages. They were having a tea party and enjoying sweets and cakes.

Strung across the ward amongst gay Christmas decorations were several British flags and hanging from the centre of the room was a very large American flag.  At the far end of the ward were three large tables forming a triangle. Piled high on these tables were toys and clothing that must have boggled the minds of these home­less, orphaned children. I had nev­er felt so proud, in all my life to think I was partially responsible for it all.  Now it was my turn to be Santa Claus. It mattered little that I was in airforce blue and not in red and white with downy whiskers.

Over 120 excited children filed by me and were given a toy of their choice. Every kind of toy im­aginable was available to them. One little boy kept coming back to shake hands with me.

Later, with a very large hospital cart overflowing with toys and can­dy, I went on a tour of every ward in the hospital to visit kiddies who were not able to leave their beds.

After my role of Santa was com­pleted I was shown over the hospital and the staff told me of their experiences during the air-raids. We went to the roof where it was evident many incendiary-bomb fires had been fought. Late in 1940, in one raid alone, more than a thousand fires had burst out in the East End.

Every direction we gazed there was rubble and partial remains of buildings, crumbling masonary walls, exposed plumbing, and lone sentinel-like chimneys. Some of the orphaned children to whom I had just given a toy had once lived there.

Finally it was the end of a won­derful day in my life and I left St. Andrews Hospital, Devons Road, Bow, one of the happiest guys in the world. Mission accomplished!

Of all my Christmases that is the most memorable. That was 72 years ago. I often think about those chil­dren. Where are they now? Many will have children of their own. Some may have grandchildren.

If my grandchildren ever ask, "What did you do in the war, Grandad?", I'll tell them, "I played Santa Claus.".
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PS = I was freelance writing after the war and one of the stories I wrote for WestWorld Magazine, December, 1982,  was of the above experience.  One day, shortly after the magazine containing my story was published I received a phone call from a lady in Victoria, who lived just three miles from me,  who had just read the magazine.  SHE WAS ONE OF THOSE LITTLE GIRLS  to whom I had given a toy in St. Andrew's Hospital, London, in 1942, forty years previous.