Elora’s Battling Bittorf Brothers enlisted in five different services in 1942

The horrors of war are well documented, and people today who either look back at the loss of life and the huge amounts of destruction might be surprised to discover that the young men who volun­teered often did so out of a sense of adventure and duty.

Dave Bittorf, who lives at the north end of Fergus, said that for his dad and his four uncles, it was completely natural to enlist.

The tale of the Battling Bit­torfs has now passed into his hands. He said there comes a time in a couple’s life when they start asking children what they would like, and he told his mom and dad, Henry and Helen Bittorf, “The pictures.”

His father had dozens of them collected from the years when Canada was at war, as well as family photos after­wards, and also some old style films from the late 1950s. Dave got them all.

It was the war years where the Bittorf family left a deep impression on Elora. The fam­ily grew up on John Street at a time when their house was seem­ingly the only one on the block, and, like many other fam­ilies, its occupants suffered dur­ing the depression. Dave said his father told him how the brothers used to head to a section of Colborne Street in the 1930s to help push train engines at the turn-around, now the site of a public park.

Henry also told him how the brothers would then walk along the tracks to pick up lumps of coal that had fallen from the cars – so they could heat their home. Dave learned that his grandfather, George Bittorf, used to walk half way to Guelph and back every day to work – for a dollar a day.

George and Theodora Bit­torf had three daughters and seven sons.

Life, in other words, was not easy – “and five out of seven went to war.”

When World War II broke out and Canada was ready to get in­volv­ed, the Bittorf boys dis­covered that if they vol­un­teered, they got to choose which service they would be in. If they waited to get drafted, they would be told were to serve. They opted for volunteering and for choice. Given their choices, that was probably smart:

– George joined the army;

– John, the airforce;

– Henry, artillery;

– Elmer, the navy; and

– Doug, the merchant mar­ine.

“Dad [Henry] said at that time, it was the thing to do,” Dave Bittorf remembers.

His father joined the 12th Field Artillery of 1643rd Bat­tery.

Dave Bittorf said his father was on a Bren gun carrier and operated the wireless, which meant being at the front of the action to inform the rear gunners where to direct their fire. He was also a lineman, and he told Dave about once being at the top of a pole and hearing a shell whiz by his ears.

It was to Henry Bittorf that two strange coinci­dents of war took place. When he reached Europe, he had a personality conflict with the sergeant run­ning the Bren gun carrier he was on. So, he went to his captain and asked for a transfer to another one. The captain agreed, and three days later, a shell hit the carrier he had been with. All the men on it were killed.

In another incident, their Bren gun carrier was caught out in the open when a German aircraft came over a rise, just off the ground, ready to strafe the entire group. Dave said Henry told him the entire crew simply stood beside their car­rier, realizing they were all dead – because there was no escaping the deadly fire from that aircraft. He said they never even raised their weapons to defend themselves.

That act, though, saved their lives. The pilot actually tipped his wing in salute as he flew past and delivered his death and destruction at another place.

There were other, lighter, momemts, too.

Henry became very good friends with Norm Price, of Ac­ton. Norm was corresponding with a girl back home, but when in Eng­land, he fell in love with a young lady there. He wrote to Helen Simpson and told her she ought to write to his friend, Henry.

She did, and the couple married in 1946. Henry and Mike were both on the Acton Fire Department together.

Fighting brothers

A local Newspaper, and Dave is unable to find out which one, published the phot­os of the five boys and his grand­mother, Theodora, with the title the Battling Bittorfs. He said his grandfather was disappointed he could not be at home when the photo was taken because he was away at work.

Of course, Dave Bittorf had heard of the legendary Ameri­can family, who became known as The Fighting Sullivans. Hollywood made a movie about them with that title, and Dave Bittorf was one of the first to order a copy of it when it became available. He got not only a movie, but an extra with features of the Sullivan boys’ pictures.

There were two big differ­ences though, between the Bat­tling Bit­torfs and the Fighting Sullivans. The Sullivans all joined the American Navy, and all five were killed when their boat was sunk.

The Bittorfs each joined a different branch of the service, and they all came home heal­thy. Dave said his Uncle John did catch some minor shrapnel in his torso, but that was the extent of the family’s injuries overseas.

Dave’s parents are now de­ceased, with his dad passing away in 2005. The brothers scattered after the war. His Uncle Doug lives in British Columbia, and his Uncle Elmer lives near Otterville.

In a strange twist of fate, Dave said his brother’s son in Acton is the best friend of Norm’s son. Norm, too, is gone. Henry used to drive him to Hamilton for treatments.

For Dave Bittorf, it is a wonder that five brothers could have joined the services and gone overseas. He often pon­ders how his grandparents felt, knowing that it was entirely possible that none of them would come back.

Like many veterans, Dave said his father would talk only about the happy times they had overseas. He has photos of Henry and Price feeding pig­eons in Trafalgar Square, some scenery shots, including people of Holland when Canadians freed that country from Nazi rule. He also has pictures of all the brothers in uniform. Later years of photos include many photos of various family wed­dings and gatherings.

His father never would tell him any of the tales of battle, probably preferring, like oth­ers, to forget the ugliness of war.

For Dave Bittorf, it is enough that he comes from a family that served.

“To me, it’s family history,” he said.

 

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