There were many local groups and individuals on the home front that did a great deal to help win the Second World War. Citizens bought war bonds with their savings. The eight women's institutes, women's war auxiliary and the IODE each month sent bales of clothing and blankets to Britain and Russia.

Children collected the pods from milkweed and scrap metal and newspaper for salvage. Locals regularly donated their blood at blood donor clinics.

Perhaps the two most singular efforts were done by the tank range farmers and the Meaford Express. The property of some 84 families, at least 14 good fruit orchards, four public schools and four churches were taken over when the Department of Defence expropriated some 17,000 acres to build a tank range to train the army in the use of tanks.

Our weekly newspaper did much to connect the men serving overseas with the community at large. Copies of the Express were mailed to overseas personnel. Over 300 letters were printed in the weekly paper. They were written by those stationed in Britain and those serving in Italy and eventually in Europe after the 1944 invasion.

Letters to Home
On the first Saturday night of September 1941, the Legion started a series of bingo games. The proceeds of these games went into a tobacco fund to buy cigarettes as a gift to the boys overseas. Each month, a flat of 300 smokes was mailed to each one.

When the men began to send a short note of thanks, the Express printed them. Within a few months, the notes expanded to many an interesting letter. Some parents would also bring a letter into editor Frank Secord - one they thought his readers would enjoy.

These letters written to families and their comrades in the Legion kept the whole community in touch despite being separated by the Atlantic Ocean. Here is a selection of them.

Thanks for the Cigarettes
Comrades: I received your carton of British consuls today for which I say thank you very much. I guess you know how welcome Canadian brands are over here after smoking the mixture of mattress filling and reclaimed rubber that passes for cigarettes in England. Art Ferguson, Oct. 1943.
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Back home we never think of what a cigarette means but over here they are like gold. Cigarettes over here cost 36 cents for 20. Well, the average soldier will smoke 20 a day or an ounce of tobacco so by the time we buy our smokes, a few razor blades and pay for a haircut, there isn't much left of two week's pay. Wm. Scammell, Aug. 1942.
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Meeting Friends
Having safely crossed the Atlantic with German submarines lurking and debarking with hundreds of others, to meet a familiar Meaford face was indeed a cheerful bonus. Many of the letters told Meaford neighbours of chance meetings of Meaford buddies.

I've only noticed one of my letters in the Express which Mr. Secord is so considerate to send the boys. It's quite possible the other two have met a watery grave. Yesterday, I received quite a surprise. I met Tommy Fillingham. He is the second Meaford chap that I've seen in eight months. My first night in England, I met Earl Gillespie. Bill Clarke, June 1942.
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I have met quite a few of the boys from around Meaford. I see Ted McKay quite often as he sleeps just a few huts from me. The two Henning lads are in the same regiment as we see each other quite often. Douglas Boyes, April 1944.
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Dear Mr. Solomon: I don't know whether Keith ever mentioned it or not, but I ran into him one day last February. I was going into the railway station at Aberdeen, Scotland, and he was coming out. We didn't have long to talk but it was good to see someone from Meaford. Art Loucks, Holland, June 1945.
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Interesting Leaves
Hello friends at the Legion: I just came back from seven days leave yesterday. This country has a wonderful crop of grain and fruit this year. Many of the boys are spending their spare time helping on the farms. They get about 35 cents per hour which helps out their pay quite a bit. Wayne Theakson, Aug. 1942.
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Dear Mr. Solomon: I just got back from seven days leave with a buddy. We went to London and really gave the place a real going-over. It was rather strange for a while finding one's way in the blackouts. We saw the worst-bombed parts of the city and although it has been pretty well cleaned up, London sure got a going-over and it will be some time before it is built up again. The people keep right on going as if nothing had ever happened. Roy Ferris, Oct. 1943.
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Dear Muriel (his sister): Had a good look around Edinburgh and took in quite a few of the dances. They have some very good orchestras. In Scotland, they dance more like we do at home. In fact, everything is more like it is at home. The girls dress better and are a lot nicer looking than they are here in England. The city itself is very beautiful with lovely parks scattered throughout the place. It is a lot like Toronto. As ever, Roy (Cramp), April 1945.
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Exploring a Wider World
Taking their basic training (especially in the Air Force) took men to many parts of Canada. But it was when they were in Britain that many of the service men saw places that gave them a look at a culture going back for centuries.

Oliver Pitts was stationed at a city called Stoke-on-Trent. He and some of his group were staying at the lovely home of Mr. and Mrs. Langdon, a well-known architect and his wife.

When their hosts discovered the name of his home town, she told him about Meaford Hall owned by the Earl of St. Vincent after which the town of Meaford was named. This historic old and stately castle was but 35 miles from her home. A visit was arranged. As it was the latter part of June, the grounds were lovely.

October 1942.
Dearest Mom and Dad: Since coming here, I have gotten a new version of the word cottage for the place we are quartered in is termed a cottage. It has 27 rooms, and this seems a rather common-sized house.

Every Englishman has a rose garden from the ditch digger to the Earl and a cottage without a hedge is a rarity. When the roses were in bloom, it was a sight to behold for no two beds seem to be just the same shade.

In the country, the commons or moors as they are called here, or untillable fields and hillsides are simply covered with nettles and heather which when in bloom is a rich purple or somewhat of a violet shade.

The English people are taught politeness from infancy and the children would not think of asking for anything without saying please and thank you, sir or lady, as the case may be. In their play, they would not think of cheating or playing rough as so many Canadian children do.

As to obedience, I notice that when mother says come along John, Jamie or Archie, he comes and no grunting about it for they know that Ma is a past master at wielding the rod of correction and kids or canines know the penalty for not obeying, and when May says 'coom', they coom.

Every bit of tillable ground is a Victory Garden and, boy, are they clean. Next to us is a school composed mostly of evacuated children from London, and they have quite a different accent to the children in this area.

With best regards and love, John (Knight), July 1943.
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Dear comrades: I am in Cairo now and don't mind it too much. I expect to go to Palestine on leave in the very near future. This is a very hot country and I do mean hot. It was 92 (33 C)in the shade; that is warm enough for me. The boys who were here last summer said the temperature went up to 115 (46 C).

We live in what was more or less a hotel before the war. We take tours which take us to the ancient places built well before Christ. The small villages in which these people or creatures live in are an awful sight to see. To look at the villages, you would think no human being could live in such a place. I hear from Mr. Smail (principal of elementary school) quite often and he tells me all that is going on in Meaford. Bob Challis, Middle East, April 1945.
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Home Town Concerns
The problems of their hometown were never far from the minds of some overseas. Occasionally, pieces of advice were forthcoming.
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Gentlemen: I was sorry to hear of young George Bishop being posted as missing but until actual facts are definitely known, there are good chances that he is a prisoner of war. Sincerely, Harry Beckett, Jan. 1943. (It turned out that Harry was correct. George was a prisoner of war from Nov. 1942 to May 1945.)

In three lengthy letters in the spring of 1944, Kenneth Chapman shared his dreams for a sports centre in his hometown. Spurred on by the news that a Meaford Amateur Athletic Association had been organized, he offered his views of what the overall policy of the MAAA should be.

He outlined the various rooms for such a sports complex and he gave his reasons for concentrating on children from ages 10 to 16.

"In summing up, it appears perhaps that the whole future of the universe of Meaford in particular depends on whether or not the kids play hockey and baseball. This is the impression I wish to convey along with the fact that it is time that the public adopted a different attitude towards sport - the amateur kind - and used it to attain their ends instead of letting sport use them to satisfy itself.

"We are in the midst of a war for our way of life, yet our three services take skads of time out for sports and athletics, small local meets and large-scale intersection leagues. This is not because we have time to waste but because our men have to be taught unity of thought and action and cooperation with the men on either side of them. It is a do-or-die matter here and the men who are supposed to know find that organized team sport is the best way."
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Dear Harold (Solomon): Thanks again for a further shipment of 1,000 cigarettes. I hope you won't have to continue sending them much longer. The chaps have appreciated their Canadian cigarettes greatly but as things get hotter, the cigarettes will mean even more to them. Supplies, personal equipment, mail bags, etc. will sometimes get lost in the mails. Even English cigarettes won't be available.

The time to support the boys is when the need is greatest and of course that is when they are in action. The Express is certainly a great help in keeping in touch with what is going on not only at home but wherever Meaford boys go. Please give my regards to Mrs. Solomon, Lorraine and Elsie, the Rotary crowd, etc. The best to yourself (Rev.) Harold Appleyard. Jan. 1944.
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The Theatres of the War
Without giving away details of battles, letters from the front told the hometown of the conditions of the people they saw.
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Dear Mother: This is my first day in Italy after a full day of marching. We were nearly dead. My shirt was wringing wet. We stopped at a town. We had our dinner a mile away. And the poor little Italian kids started swarming around. Poor little beggars - it sure is pitiful. About one out of eight of them have shoes, and they are made of wood. They picked up anything we dropped, even licked out the cans of stew ration we threw away.

I can't think of much more to say. I just wanted to let you know we arrived okay. I knew you would be worried and anxious. I sure hope this makes you feel better. Your loving son, Sydney (Clarke). Oct. 1944.

The Allied forces landed in France in June 1944. After periods of fierce fighting, the letters reveal the euphoric mood of the civilians.

Dear Mother, Dad and Bill: We have had quite a tour through France and lately it has been just like a victory parade with the people lining the roads and cheering us on. They give us apples, eggs, wine and cider whenever we stop. They throw bouquets of flowers and my motor cycle looks like a flower garden most of the time.

Whenever we stop at a corner to direct the traffic, the French people rush at you, shake your hand and kiss you on both cheeks. It is not so bad when a pretty girl does that but when the men start doing it too, we bashful Canadians start retreating. Your loving son, Ken (Croft), Sept. 1944.

Peace Finally Comes
My dear Mom and all: First of all, I want to wish you, my dear mother, all the best in this your special day. My thoughts are especially with you today, and only wish I could be home with you in person rather than in thought only and join the whole family, as I expect all will be at home except me. However, now that the war is over for us (I hope), I guess it won't be long until I am there.

Gee, it sure was grand to hear the news on Friday night and better still to hear the guns go silent just before 8 a.m. yesterday. I can hardly believe even yet that the end has come at last; all seems too good to be true.

Wish I could have gone out to church today and give thanks for still being safe and well and see the job finished. It is so much to be thankful for. Many times I wondered if my luck would hold out as so many of our lot are now pushing up daisies from here all the way back to Caen. That's what is so very terrible about war.

Love to all, Harold (Hindle), Germany, May 6, 1945. Sent some flowers a long time ago for Mother's Day, so hope you received them okay.

The Express had done its share
Decades before the World Wide Web was connecting us to friends around the world, the Meaford Express was linking up Meafordites during the dark days of war. Its pages let neighbours know a little about the boys who were training across the Dominion and when they were fighting in Europe, Africa and even India.

Its pages allowed them the human touch of a personal letter to reach the hearts of boys in uniform faster than any chain letter could do.

Perhaps Ken Ellis, who wrote the sports news while he attended Meaford High school, summed it all up in his letter of May 13, 1945.

Although I've been away from Meaford for almost five years now, I've never actually felt I was any further than Knight's Kosy Kabins. It is almost impossible to go anywhere without running into someone from Meaford. I'd almost be willing to bet that if I parachuted down in the middle of the African jungle some time, I'd land right on top of someone from home sitting reading the Meaford Express.

The only thing that makes me realize that I was far away from Meaford was the fact that I couldn't slip into Bright's Drugstore whenever I wanted Bill Stephens to make one of those giant chocolate milk shakes we tried to get. Mr. Secord, keep the old town going until the young fellows get back to help out again.

The Meaford Express had done its share to help with the war.