Map where Dad bailed out July 7, 1944

Alison Squires speaks about Dad and SWNA

July 27, 2017

Alison spoke about Dad and his involvement with the Saskatchewan Weekly Newspaper Association

I did not realize until doing research for today that Barry’s father, W. C. Needham, first purchased the Wynyard Advance in 1933. When his father was forced to give up working in 1946 due to ill health, the publisher duties were given to Ken Miller until 1948 when Barry returned from World War II.

Ownership of the Advance remained in the Needham family until 1977, when Barry sold to Norm Park. Although Barry agreed to continue working for the transition period, he remained for the next 20 years - the business tends to suck you in like that.

Four years after Barry resumed publisher duties, my dad purchased the Wadena News in 1952 and the two became fast friends. They were both active in the Saskatchewan Weekly Newspapers Association; Barry was elected president from 1961-1963 and was also awarded a lifetime membership.

Many of my memories are from the days when, as young families, we attended both provincial and national conventions. It was big deal then. There were activities for spouses and families while the publishers went to meetings, then we met in the evening for a beautiful banquet to celebrate the best in the industry. It was part of our summer holidays and we looked forward to staying in a nice hotel, riding the magical train at Storyland Valley Zoo, or learning what happens at the IPSCO steel plant in Regina.

Both Barry and my dad were publishers in a time when the work was heavy, mechanical, and dirty, and they came home with ink-stained hands. It was truly a skill to be able to command a product of pride from a letterpress. Then the industry had moved from setting everything from the newspaper pages to letterheads, ribbons and napkins in hot lead in the 60s and 70s, to offset printing, cut-and-paste, and the development of negatives, that were sent off to press . It was always a mad rush to get those pages ready to meet the bus that took them off to the  press. The darkroom was developed and publishers could create their own local photographs versus using ones that were provided with news releases.

I agree with the Needham siblings, it was always work, work, work. And all of us worked at the newspaper at some time or another; may be we were just cheap labour, but I think it was more about the lessons that we could learn. But both men, and our mothers, embodied the spirit of the communities they served, in their newspapers and in the work they did in their communities, because that’s just what you did. Perhaps the fact that they lived what they believed was more of an example for their children than actually being at home.

It was a time where a gentleman’s agreement and handshake meant something; and if someone had a beef, they would actually have the audacity to air it face-to-face or on the telephone that hung on the wall, or even write a letter to the editor - unlike how it is done now where we appear to commanded by our cell phones.

It was my mom who me told about the long-standing joke between Barry and my dad: Dad always wanted the advertising Barry had in the Wynyard Advance, and Barry always wanted the news Dad had in the Wadena News. But they respected each other’s territories, as it was a line that was not crossed.

It was actually Barry whom I first called when my brother Bruce and I considered purchasing the Wadena News. He was honest in saying that he had been away from it for a while and pointed me toward the association for more information - and I have been on the board almost ever since - as the business tends to suck you in like that.

Occasionally, he would arrive at the back door of the news office unannounced, looking for more onion skin or carbon paper for his typewriter, because he was working on yet another project. He was always good for an interesting conversation, or a great story, as he was always exploring and learning new things. Even in business, he was always trying to improve it. I admired him for continuing to be curious about things instead of just growing old.

Just three years ago, he arrived from Wynyard for my mom’s funeral, came to the service, paid his respects then drove himself back home.

I considered him almost as a second father; I have been honoured to know both Martha and Barry, and his family, and as a veteran for me, he holds no higher esteem.

The Dash read at Graveside

THE DASH

I read of a woman who stood to speak

At the funeral of a friend

She referred to the dates on the tombstone

From the beginning to the end.

 

She noted that first came his date of birth

And spoke the following date with tears,

But she said what mattered most of all

Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time

That Uncle Barry spent alive on earth…

And now only those who loved him

Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;

The cars…the house…the cash,

What matters is how we live and love

And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard…

Are there things you’d like changed?

For you never know how much time is left,

That still can be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough

To consider what’s true and real,

And always try to understand

The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,

And show appreciation more

And love the people in our lives

Like we’ve never loved before. 

If we treat each other with respect,

And more often wear a smile…

Remembering that this special dash

Might only last a little while.

So, Uncle Barry, when your eulogy’s being read

With your life’s actions to rehash…

Be very proud of the things we’ll say

About how you spent your dash?

Author Unknown

Eulogy for Barry Needham by Good Friend Dan Dennis

Dan does a fly pass at the cemetery the next day July 28 when we laid both Mom and Dad's ashes to rest
in the Needham family plot 

Ladies and gentlemen, if there ever was a celebration of life...

this has to be it. Almost 97 years of age is remarkable.

My name is Dan Dennis and I am Barry's friend.  Barry and I became friends when he moved to the  Country Care home just south of Regina Beach about three years ago.  We had a shared interest in aviation as we are both aviators.

I would drop by for a visit or he would show up at my place about a mile away driving is car with his oxygen bottle in tow.  He would tell me stories and ask me questions about my career, and the discovery channel show Mayday and others, as I tinkered with my aircraft.  We would share the odd beer or rum and coke. I did from time to time sneak a flask of red wine into the home which was our secret. I always enjoyed his company, sharp mind and desire to learn things.

We took a few short road trips and we attended the 75th Anniversary of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, where he was the guest speaker. This was the training program where Barry earned his wings.  He stole the show as everyone listened attentively to his speech. I was amazed with his ability to speak impromptu. It was obvious his career in the air force was a passion for him. It stayed with him until the day he died.

Barry and others like him,....gave up their youth, and their lives to the war effort , so that we are able to enjoy the life we do today.  We must never forget the sacrifice these men and women made.

Barry joined the Air force in September 1940. There was an administrative error and his file was placed in the unfit for duty file. This  delayed his acceptance.  He was eventually accepted and  sent to Prince Rupert on guard duties.This posting was to guard against the Japanese from invading Canada.  Apparently not much went on there except rain, fog , whiskey and women.!!!

He later on was approved for flight training and was sent back to Saskatchewan for abinitio  flight training in Regina.  He trained  in Regina on the De Havoline Tiger moth, then in Yorkton on the original North American Harvard Advance trainer.

He was never really sure why he was selected for fighter pilot duties, but after arriving in the UK and getting into a Spitfire he thought it must be  because of his slight stature.  There wasn't much room in the cockpit and it was a tight squeeze for anyone getting in or out.

I believe it was his "mischievous and outgoing, on the edge type personality".  This same personality existed years later when he would drive over to my place on the back roads at the age of 95 looking for his rum and coke. He thought no one would know or find out he was on an adventure. We shared our last rum shorty before his passing.

Upon completing his training on the Tiger Moth and Harvard, he was sent to England to join the 412 Squadron flying the early model Submarine Spitfire, a high performance, gun toting weapon, sporting a Rolls Royce engine in excess of 1000 HP capable of speeds of 350 mph and the ability to climb to 30,000 ft.  This was a lot of aircraft for an inexperienced pilot.  He had to have shown promising skills to have been chosen for the role of fighter pilot.

So, once in England with the 412 squadron, they took him up, did some aerobatics and training, a little shooting practise that  amounted to about 30 hours  or so of flying and then turned him loose.  He took a wing man, as they always sent pairs out in the fighter group and told him to go shoot up something German.  Off they would go crossing the English Channel into occupied France or behind enemy lines-- taking out supply lines, locomotives, steam engines ,  u boats, flotillas  or whatever they could find.  It was called going on a" rhubarb".

In the summer of 1942 the Luftwaffe were bombing the south coast of England at will.  They were having a great success hardly being challenged.  To counteract these raids , Spitfire Squadrons were strategically placed along that area on "immediate readiness" that means  sitting in their aircraft ready to go.  They saw bombs bursting over the village of Worthy.  Off they went and in short order saw two German Focke- Wulf 190's fleeing out over the channel.  The Focke- Wulf 190 was superior to the Spitfire in all aspects except maneuverability.  Nothing could out maneuver the Spitfire.  Barry would always say " The Spitfire has no bad qualities".

 The chase was on !!!. As Barry and  his wing man dove in behind the 190's they got close for a short period until forward energy from the dive depleted in level flight. The Spitfires, Rolls Royce  Merlin's were  at full throttle actually past the gate , as they say, and the 190's were still pulling away.  Barry's wing man squeezed the trigger on his Browning 303 machine guns and one Focke-Wulf fell from the sky. Barry's' victim was getting to far away but he emptied his guns anyway and watched his target fly off trailing smoke from a hit, but it continued on. Out of ammunition they returned to England with one kill and one hit.  That was his first engagement in battle.

Many years later Historian/ Author ....Chris Goss contacted both Barry and the brother of the Focke-Wulf Pilot, who  had been killed in a later dog fight.  Barry learnt that the pilot had been an Ace from a previous war with several kills.  He jokingly  told me that had he known that,  and since it was his first engagement with the  enemy , he'd have been full throttle in the opposite direction back to England.

A friendship  developed with Willy, the brother of the deceased Focke-Wulf pilot, and over the years they communicated through letters , phone calls and later emails.

 In 2004 Barry and Martha went to Bad Gleichenberg in Austria to visit Willy.  Willy presented Barry with a souvenir.  It was the 20 mm cannon shell that Barry had fired into the fleeing Focke-Wulf 190.  Willy said 'you gave this to my brother, now I am returning it  to you."  It was a very special moment for both of them.

Barry had many missions, and one which stays in my mind , is where he defended a crippled American B17 and its jumping crew, from attacking Focke-Wulf 190's. After running out of ammo he used dummy attacks to drive them off and was successful.

There were many missions, but with the high risk and dangers associated the odds were against these young fighting men and women.

Barry's number came up, and while strafing a German transport group over occupied France, he was hit by anti aircraft fire.  Using the energy he had at his disposal he climbed his crippled and burning aircraft skyward until the flames became too intense.   He slid his canopy open and in his words " I popped out of there like a cork from a Champagne bottle". He pulled his ripcord and burnt and bleeding he floated earthward.

As such he became a member of the "caterpillar club".  He has a card and a lapel pin of a "silkworm with ruby colored eyes" signifying you jumped from a burning aircraft and used a silk parachute to save your life.

 He was captured shortly thereafter by the secret service  while hiding behind bushes. He was taken to a makeshift POW camp known as Stallag 221.  He was treated for his injuries by French nurses, whom he connected with many years later.  He was fed a diet of cabbage soup( less the cabbage), black bread and rank cheese.

Barry was lucky.. after 34 days the Americans liberated France and he started the long journey back to Saskatchewan and his family.  He was assigned to Ferry command in Canada.  The war was over and the surplus  training, fighter, bomber and transport type aircraft needed to be positioned around Canada for storage and dispersal.  Once that was complete it was time for Barry to move on with his life.  He left the Air force for the newspaper business.

In June 2004 while at the 60th anniversary of D Day  Barry met a group from the "Normandy Association for Air Remembrance" and discussed finding his downed Spitfire.  They had found 1500 of the approximately 3000 that went down.  While describing his bailout one of the members said  " I think I know where your aircraft is". On October 17, 2005  Barry and his family were invited to attend the excavation of his Spitfire near  Falaise, France.  In a farmers field the backhoe brought up pieces of an engine, propeller, cannons and machine guns, more that 15 ft deep,  What and exciting event, however upon further investigation it was determined to be a P51 Mustang and not a Spitfire after all.

The  Group didn't give up and after a newspaper story about the event, four locals came forward with new information.  A farm worker who had been young at the time of the crash had come forward and claimed he had seen Barry jump .  He presented his diary to Barry and showed him where the plane was located.  This time it was correct.  The stench of gasoline was prevalent with the first scoop full of dirt.  It was the remains of the "Spitfire MK622.  Parts were recovered and the  still inflated tail wheel was brought home and is on display at the legion.

At an Airshow in Estevan, a modern day spitfire pilot, Warren Pietsch who had spent time with Barry and  who roams the airshow circuit showing off the antique Spitfire said to me" You don't know what a gem you have in Barry Needham".  I do know that and am sure you all do as well.

Barry I cherished our friendship and the little time we spent together.  I often think of what you've done for Canada and our democracy.

Barry, has now for the last time....  Slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the skies on laughter- silvered wings, he,s topped the windswept heights with easy grace. And I know he's put out his hand  and  touched the face of God.

Barry, The Royal Air force Motto goes with you  "Per Ardua Ad Astra"  Through Adversity to the stars.

Barry, we all thank you for your service and we love you and  will miss you . God speed my friend. God Speed.

Leader Post Article "Aerodrome of Democracy"

Leader Post Article

Saskatchewan Aviation Council

Saskatchewan Aviation Council see page 6

No. 11 Service Flying training School Yorkton

No 11 Service Flying Training School Yorkton