Geoffrey Bruce Hope ‘Sandy’ Sandilands
My Hero Dad I Never Met

Now having acquired a bit more information of my father’s short life, I realize just how much life he managed to pack into his short lifetime of 22 years.

No doubt the most exciting part would have come around the time of his 20th birthday when he was shipped overseas from Sydney, Australia (June 1943) with his destination Canada. Arriving on a Canadian airfield, he would receive training  to be a flyer as part of the British Commonwealth Training.  Eventually he would find himself at RAF Base Hixon, in Staffordshire, England in June 1944. During those early days in Canada, he met my mother at the #3 Bombing and Gunnery School at Macdonald RCAF Base in Manitoba and they became smitten with each other.

In May 1944, they married after much discussion about the fact he could be sent overseas and never return. But a miracle happened and, due to our British Government connections and, the fact all the young men in his family (2 brothers and a brother-in-law) had recently been killed in WW2 while serving in the RAAF (Australia) — in India and N. Africa — Dad was told he would not be sent overseas.

Upon return from their honeymoon, however, all this was apparently forgotten, possibly due to the terrible losses the Allied aircrews were suffering in Europe which caused the decision to close the MacDonald base. Of course, mom and dad were not party to this information and I only recently discovered it in my research. So the unthinkable happened — his transfer papers were waiting for him, sending him to England. I would imagine that my parents initially assumed that the British government had betrayed their trust, but on arriving in England, my father was told he would not be flying … he was to serve as an on-ground trainer of rear gunners at  Hixon Air Base. (While in Canada he had been refused as a pilot due to his eyesight.)

Irregardless, his kind nature and love of flying would soon seal his fate irregardless of the precautions. Barely months later, on that fateful night of October 31st, 1944, one of his Aussie buddies got sick and dad saw the opportunity to do what he loved … to fly … taking his friend’s place in that Wellington on its night training flight.

During the flight they encountered a wild electrical storm and crashed into a tree as they tried to find the landing strip. That tree was located in Ingestre Park (now a golf course) a short distance from Hixon Field. Sadly, all nine young Flight Officers were killed. They were buried together in the War Graves Cemetery (Blacon) just outside of Chester, Staffordshire. Left behind was at least one grieving, young and, pregnant widow, my 25-year-old mother. I was born 5 months later.

(left) An old Hixon mailbox from the period my dad was stationed there

In April 2002, I saw a lifelong dream come true when my mother, my husband Robert, and I visited the former site of Hixon Airforce Base , now a thriving commercial area, and my father’s grave at Blacon Cemetery. At that time, I met a man who was six at the time of the crash and remembered it well because his family had a clear view of the area from his home. Not wanting to upset my mother further, I did not tell her these details but I did take a picture of the area.

This first trip to England for my mother and I would be a sadly fateful visit as a few weeks after our return to Canada, mother took a fall and had complications due to long-standing heart problems. Sadly, she died six weeks later and I can’t explain how much I miss her.