A Name Carved in Stone: Remembering My Great Uncle and the 427 Squadron Memorial

By Trevor Howard, Lindsay Monument (Campbell Monument)

On Remembrance Day, I think of the people behind the names on memorials. One has a deeply personal meaning to me: my great uncle, R.119924 Warrant Officer II William “Bill” Kashmar, a Royal Canadian Air Force airman killed during the Second World War.

My connection to Bill’s story began around 2010. After a family dinner, my grandmother, Joan Eva Shoomski, handed me a package, containing medals and photographs, belonging to her favourite uncle. “I’ve carried these my entire life, and now I am passing them on to you to care for,” she told me.

My grandmother had been a small child when Bill was killed, but she never forgot him. His parents had died before his final mission, and he had left his belongings to his niece and nephew in his will. She had kept the items safe for decades. When she passed them to me, I felt I had inherited more than keepsakes. I had also accepted a responsibility to learn who Bill Kashmar was and what had happened to him.

Bill was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, on June 22nd, 1919, the youngest of three children. His parents had immigrated from Eastern Europe, and he grew up with his older sisters, Maria “Mary” and Kateryna “Kay.” Both parents died while the children were young.

Bill enlisted in the RCAF in Winnipeg, on July 30th, 1941, and trained through the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan. At No. 2 Bombing and Gunnery School, in Mossbank, Saskatchewan, he learned to operate aircraft turrets and defend bombers. He received his Air Gunner’s Badge on his twenty-third birthday, June 22nd, 1942.

After a brief stay at Y Depot, in Moncton, New Brunswick, Bill sailed for England, on July 20th, 1942. While continuing his training, he wrote to Kay. Only a few letters survive, but they reveal his longing for home. In one dated September 14th, 1942, he asked about family and wondered why he had not received replies. He also mentioned meeting a young woman in Scotland. One line stands out: “Tell Frank (Kay’s husband) I would give anything to be back in Canada.”

Bill joined No. 420 Squadron, in January of 1943, flying Vickers Wellington bombers. In April, he transferred to No. 427 Squadron, part of No. 6 (RCAF) Group in RAF Bomber Command. The squadron was transitioning to Handley Page Halifax bombers and became known as the “Lion Squadron,” after Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios presented it with a bronze lion.

Bill continued flying with crew members from No. 420 Squadron, including pilot P/O C. H. T. Tubman and navigator F/O George Theodore Matynia. Their missions took them over occupied Europe and Germany, targeting industrial sites, transportation networks and naval installations. Each operation brought experience and danger.

On June 25th, 1943, Bomber Command sent 473 aircraft on a raid against Gelsenkirchen, in Germany’s Ruhr Valley. Nine Halifax bombers from 427 Squadron took part. Bill’s aircraft, Halifax Mk V DK190 (ZL-F), took off at 11:28 p.m., with seven men aboard. As mid-upper gunner, Bill watched the skies for enemy aircraft.

After the raid, the crews began the dangerous journey home. In the early hours of June 26th, as DK190 crossed the Netherlands, a German night fighter intercepted it. The bomber crashed near Gorssel, beside a country house known as ’t Amelte. All seven crew members died.

A report by Gorssel’s mayor, on June 29th, recorded the recovery and burial of six airmen. The seventh was found later and buried, on July 14th. Their identities were not all immediately established, but local residents ensured the men were recovered and laid to rest. Postwar investigations later confirmed who they were.

My research was encouraged by my volunteer work at the National Air Force Museum of Canada, in Trenton. Working alongside veterans and other volunteers, and spending time near the museum’s Halifax bomber, deepened my interest in Bomber Command.

In May of 2013, I travelled to England with my wife and her family. On May 13th, we visited the Bomber Command Memorial, in London. I had prepared a laminated card, with Bill’s photograph and the information which I had gathered. I held it beside the memorial’s bronze sculpture while my wife took a photograph, then left the card there. I had printed several copies and kept one in my camera bag.

That extra card came with me to Cobden, Ontario, on October 10th, 2017. As part of the Campbell Monument setting crew, I helped install the 427 Squadron Memorial, at Cobden Veterans Memorial Park. It was a cold, blustery day. When the final granite pieces were in place, a bronze lion stood above the monument, and among the names carved into the stone was my great uncle’s.

I took the remaining card from my camera bag, held it beside Bill’s name and took another photograph. Then, I placed it at the base of the memorial. It felt as though the distance between London and Cobden had closed, and Bill’s story had found its way home. I continue to research Bill’s life, and new information occasionally adds another piece to the story. The medals my grandmother passed to me connected me to a young man I never met but have come to know through photographs, letters and records.

A memorial cannot bring someone home, but it gives families a place to remember. The stone remains as generations pass and memories fade.

This Remembrance Day, I will remember my great uncle Bill, the six men who served beside him aboard DK190, and all those who sacrificed their lives in service to Canada. I will also remember the people of Gorssel who cared for the crew after the crash, and the family members who kept their stories alive.

The medals remain in my care. His photographs and letters continue to tell his story. And his name remains carved in stone.

Lest we forget.