Dr. C.M. Johnston's Project

Murray A. Bennetto

Tobruk, Libya, where Murray Arthur Bennetto died on 16 July 1942, is, to use the school text words of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, a "Mediterranean port with an excellent deep water harbour". As a consequence, the account continues, it was "important to Allied and Axis forces alike for the reception of supplies and reinforcements" during the fighting in the Western Desert in World War II. In the course of the see-saw struggle in that part of Libya called Cyrenaica, Tobruk changed hands several times but in late June 1942 it was the Axis' ominous turn to capture this prize. Almost at once the strategic port came under repeated Allied air attacks and in one of those attacks Pilot Officer Murray Bennetto was killed when his bomber was shot down. It was a long way from his birthplace, Guelph, Ontario.

Murray had been born on 22 May 1914, only months before the comparatively tranquil Edwardian world and its successor were assaulted and irrevocably changed by the global conflicts of the 20 th century. He came from a professional family. His father, Frederick Bennetto, was a doctor who not only kept office hours but made house calls, a quaint practice that has long since died out with the age that spawned it. His mother was Bessie (Sovereen) Bennetto, a nurse and a native of Simcoe, Ontario. A surgeon, Dr. Bennetto specialized in tonsillectomies and maintained a medical circuit, operating on patients in rural communities that lacked such expertise. In 1927 he made the decision to move his family to Hamilton where he planned to open a larger practice. By this time Murray had completed his elementary school requirements in Guelph and was ready to embark on the next phase of his education in what its boosters liked to call the "Ambitious City".

Shortly after his arrival in Hamilton, Murray spotted a resplendently uniformed Boy Scout - he seemed to have a weakness for uniforms -- and announced his wish to join the unit that could produce such an adorned specimen. The urge quickly expired, however, when this confirmed Protestant in a confirmed Protestant family learned that it was a Catholic unit that had recruited the otherwise admirable youth. It was not long before Murray found a more religiously correct equivalent at the city's imposing First United Church, where he and his family came to worship. Later, like fellow McMaster student and future airman, Franklin Zurbrigg [HR], he joined the popular Fiat Club at First United, a young men's group that specialized in bringing in inspirational speakers and local worthies to address its members.

Meanwhile, to further his formal education Murray enrolled at Hamilton Central Collegiate Institute (HCCI) where he indulged his penchant for rifle and handgun shooting, a hobby that had consumed him from an early age. Apparently he kept his assorted armament in a carefully locked cabinet at home and practiced with a .22 rifle in the basement, using a battered mattress as a cushioned target. Eager to act the part of older brother and to share his skills, he also proceeded to instruct his sister, Gertrude, and later his brother, Robert, in the fine art of shooting, not to mention car driving. Indeed, sometimes driving competed with shooting for his attention. Early on he qualified for a chauffeur's license and drove his father on his medical rounds.

Not surprisingly, Murray became an ardent member of Central's rifle team, organized and directed by the magisterial Captain J.R. Cornelius. Athletic coach and shooting enthusiast, "Cap" Cornelius trained many a Central athlete and marksman over the years, Murray included. In 1931, the latter was a member of the school's "B" team, which won the Osler Cup, emblematic of outstanding prowess, in this instance a "perfect score" - a first for HCCI. The following year, he was one of three Central members of the national rifle team that competed and won in a competition between Canada and the "Mother Country". By this time he was also a member of the rifle team band and was pictured in uniform in the pages of Vox Lycei , the school's yearbook. Heartened by repeated triumphs, the rifle team went on to win the Osler Cup again in 1933. Given such success it is small wonder that Murray gushed that rifle shooting was the "king of sports". Because of his accomplishments on the rifle range he was named an HCCI letterman.

It followed almost as a matter of course that Murray would throw himself into the activities of Central's Cadet Corps, also organized by "Cap" Cornelius, a striking figure in the immaculate officer's uniform he wore while addressing his "troops". Apart from another opportunity to indulge his passion for shooting, Murray saw the corps as an outlet for his own martial inclinations, which may have been fostered by stories that a maternal ancestor had fought with a Union regiment in the American Civil War. Be that as it may, those martial inclinations were expressed in print as well as on the parade ground. Murray took to writing a column, "Military Matters", for Vox Lycei in which he spelled out his hopes and plans. For example, in the 1933-34 issue he wrote glowingly of the "glamour, beauty, the excitement and the thrill behind all [the] totally self-absorbing activities and pageants" associated with the Cadet Corps and other military-oriented programs at Central. This may have been the reason why some schoolmates took to dubbing him "Benito", presumably after the bellicose Italian dictator, Mussolini. The sobriquet doubtless grated.

Yet, undaunted, Murray went on to assert, with all the confidence of a self-assured adolescent, that "our school . yields more than 'book' education, it yields 'worldly' education", presumably in the demanding form that his all-consuming hobby had assumed. Nor was he alone in thinking this. Later on, during the war, a friend and former classmate of Murray's serving overseas, wrote Gertrude (Trudie) Bennetto that "we didn't learn the right things at school. If I had not been on the rifle team and with the band and orchestra I would not have known a thing". In any case, another sort of worldly education had already been assured Murray when his father took him on a prewar trip to Britain.

Following his matriculation from HCCI in 1934, Murray, at his father's urging, enrolled at the School of Optometry at the University of Toronto. He did not complete the course, however, and left after a year. He then tried out McMaster University and registered in its Political Economy course, tailored for aspiring businessmen and lawyers. It was no surprise to his friends that he also signed on for the school's newly formed rifle team, a picture of which appeared in the 1935 Marmor , the student yearbook. Its organizer was George ("Bud") Matchett [HR] who, like his new teammate, would serve and die in the war that came just four years later. Murray did not perform on McMaster's rifle range for long. Within a year he left university and ventured into business training in Hamilton and Toronto. Now seemingly equipped for the business world, he took employment at the Canadian Westinghouse Company in Hamilton. According to entries in his wartime service record, he left the firm after just three years. He then spent a year in what he called "general farming" before he decided to join up for active service in November, 1940. Like so many other would-be recruits perhaps he had simply been marking time until that all-important move was made.

In spite of his long-standing fondness for the army style Murray enlisted in the RCAF and was dispatched to its Manning Depot in Brandon, Manitoba. Perhaps his choice of service is not too surprising. Most of his friends had already joined the RCAF and, besides, the air force (not to mention its attire) promised to be more glamorous than its khaki-clad equivalent. At any rate, he was soon actively involved in the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan (BCATP), organized early on by Ottawa and the United Kingdom to provide qualified aircrew for service overseas. This was a particularly urgent need after the fall of France and the dangerous isolation of Britain in the fateful summer of 1940.

Meanwhile, Murray experienced at Brandon what hundreds of other Commonwealth trainees did, a wholly regimented life that unfolded - to quote one aspiring airman - "in the bowels of the . Winter Fair building, commonly known as the Horse Palace" where "recruits [were] bedded down .among infinite vistas of double-decker metal bunks". As at other manning depots the neophytes were subjected to drill, marching, and musketry exercises that closely resembled the kind of training that an army recruit might have expected. Following Murray's stint at Brandon, he was posted in December, 1940 to Prince Rupert, British Columbia, where like others who followed him he was assigned to guard duty until room was made for him at the next training stage. But perhaps guard duty on the West Coast was not as routine as the authorities made it out to be. Although Japan was not yet in the war, she was making menacing moves in south-east Asia, which were perceived in some troubled quarters as the prelude to possible conflict in the Pacific.

Murray's tour of guard duty was painfully curtailed when he came down with what he called a "special brand [of] measles [that] . just knocks you silly". When he recovered he wrote his relieved mother to that effect and then characteristically offered to pay for servicing the car he had left her when he joined up. By February, 1941 he was back on the prairies where he would spend the remainder of his training period. He had moved on first to No. 2 Initial Training school (ITS) at Regina, Saskatchewan, the "first hurdle" in his training and, like other students, he doubtless considered it a "momentous event". It was at such schools that trainees, depending on aptitudes and skills displayed, were sorted into prospective aircrew categories: pilot, navigator, or wireless air gunner. As Murray headed into a set of examinations he consoled his brother Robert (Bob), then in high school, that they would soon "both be studying up".

Passing successfully over the ITS hurdle and selected for pilot instruction, he was dispatched in March to Prince Albert and No. 6 Elementary Flying Training School (EFTS). He surmounted this barrier too, after being tested on Tiger Moth and Cornell trainers. In late May he proceeded to the final stage, which unfolded at No. 34 Service Flying Training School, recently opened at Medicine Hat, Alberta. This turned out to be his least desirable posting. He bitterly complained about the RAF instructors who apparently treated the trainees as so many "brats", particularly one warrant officer, who "hates us like poison, and the feeling is mutual". That, combined with the "rotten meals" and the perceived lack of discipline on the station, did not make for a happy camp. But the actual "work" in twin-engined Airspeed Oxfords he enjoyed (just as he had car-driving), particularly the "thrill" of night flying, which was just as well because he would be heavily engaged in such within a matter of months.

At the successful completion of his training in August 1941 Murray qualified as aircrew. He was awarded his pilot's wings and sergeant's stripes at a graduation ceremony on the station. It was doubly welcome because it not only marked an important milestone in his military career but mercifully liberated him from the unpalatable environs of Medicine Hat. A month later, after enjoying time off with family and friends, the newly minted Sergeant-Pilot Bennetto embarked from Halifax, bound for England and the air war. Following his arrival overseas he was, like other Canadian newcomers, routinely posted to the Personnel Reception Centre at Bournemouth where he was subjected to lectures and medical examinations and issued flying kit and battle dress. He was now on the war's doorstep.

In October 1941 he was assigned to No. 21 Operational Training Unit (OTU), based at Moreton-in-Marsh in the picturesque Cotswolds. There he trained on twin-engined Vickers Wellington bombers, an aircraft he would stay with until the end. By mid-February 1942 he was deemed qualified and wrote his parents that he was happy the "steady grind" was over on the "old crates" used for training, probably the Mark Is introduced in 1937. He then spent a short leave in London, where he visited both the Beaver Club, the Canadian servicemen's centre, and the American Eagle Club. After that, he was posted to the Overseas Aircraft Ferrying (Delivery) Unit, which dispatched aircraft to the Middle East for use in the cliff-hanging Western Desert campaign. The preparatory work was done in two stages, the first at Harwell in Berkshire, the second at Portreath in Cornwall. In the course of it, Murray shared some sombre reflections with his parents. "[T]his [forthcoming] trip", he told them on 25 February 1942,

is the most dangerous part of our work to date . just in case some God forsaken [sic] Hun gets a crack at us I want you to try and not fall into that mood of despair and mourning etc. which so many others have when their offspring are reported missing ..It is far better for me to try and lose than never to have tried at all - we must sacrifice everything in this war you know that. Now keep the home fires burning and as I said at the [railway] station - "I am coming back home after this war".

As it turned out, no "Hun" intervened to spoil the trip. On 26 March 1942 Murray and his crew arrived safely at their destination, Cairo, Egypt, after making stops at Gibraltar and Malta, the latter the redoubtable island fortress that was staving off constant Axis attacks by air and sea.

Early April was spent on leave in Cairo, and he reported to the home front that he was having "the time of his life", enjoying boating, swimming, the comfortable hotel accommodations, and especially the plentiful food and drink, including "Canadian beer!" The snapshots that accompanied the gifts he sent home graphically captured these brief "good times". He also reported that he was physically in the "pink" and "ready for anything". But like so many visitors of that or any other generation he complained about the "thieving, cheating" beggars who thronged around him on the streets. He added more charitably, however, that the majority of the locals proved to be "good natured" enough and no real problem.

Once his leave was over, Murray and his crew were engaged in ferrying aircraft to various points of the front, on one occasion encountering sandstorms. His reaction to the almost endless and unconfined desert over which he flew probably echoed another McMaster airman's, that it was "a far cry from the neatly trimmed . campus and sunken gardens" at the "alma mater". Then a decisive move came for Murray and his crew when on 27 April they were assigned to the RAF's 148 Squadron (Trusty) based at Kabrit and forming part of the Desert Air Force. His real air war was about to begin. In the interval he again put pen to paper, writing to both his brother and his parents. Almost wistfully he hoped that his tour of duty in the Middle East might end by Christmas and that he might be eligible for transfer back to England as an instructor, or even to Canada. He also had no illusions about the possible duration of the war, noting presciently that it might not end until 1945.

Some three weeks after joining 148 Squadron -- on 17 May -- Murray underwent his baptism of fire when
he and his crewmates flew off in a Wellington to attack the Axis-held town of Benghazi in Libya, a mission they successfully completed. Until June arrived, he was engaged virtually every other day in similar bombing raids against assorted enemy targets in the Western Desert. He survived them unscathed, exulting over the damage the raids inflicted on "Jerry". The early weeks of June were spent on leave or routine testing of his aircraft and he used the time to visit Egypt's pyramids and royal tombs, among other legendary tourist sites.

On 20 June, the day before he resumed operations, he again sent off letters to the family. Like most overseas servicemen he pined for traditional home treats, "steak, apple pie and ice cream". He also yearned for the use of his car again, especially for trips to Port Dover, one of his favourite getaway spots at home. Once more he alluded to the possibility of being shipped to England or Canada after his tour - apparently 32 missions -- was complete. By the time of writing he had been on six operations so he still had many more to log before he achieved that goal. In any case, he reported to his parents that on one mission his "Wimpy" (the Wellington's affectionate nickname, after the "Popeye" cartoon character) had faltered and was forced to make a crash landing near Mersa Matruh on the Egyptian coast. He and the crew survived what he called "the "incident" but were obliged to walk miles to the nearest British base, suffering blistered feet as a consequence. He realized that it could have been far worse.

The very day that Murray resumed his operations - 21 June 1942 - a dramatic event threatened to shatter British fortunes in the Western Desert. After a series of brilliantly executed moves, General Erwin Rommel, commander of the German Afrika Korps, got the better of the British defenses at Tobruk and captured the port. Even worse was to follow. Capitalizing on his foe's confusion and his own daring, Rommel drove his forces speedily into Egypt and reached as far as El Alamein, within striking distance of the Suez Canal, before losing his momentum. There the British decided to make a stand. A desperate 8 th Army regrouped to meet the threat and the Desert Air Force launched a sustained assault on enemy columns en route to Alamein.

Murray's squadron was soon thrown into the battle. His turn came in the closing days of June when he and his crew were sent to attack German ground targets, mainly motor transport, near Gazala, Sidi Barrani, and Mersa Matruh. July opened with attacks on Axis forces already gathered at Alamein, three in all in a five-day period. Then the squadron's attention was urgently turned to Tobruk, which was for the enemy, as it had been for the British, the crucial link in the desert's lifeline. Murray's meticulously kept log book indicates that on 7 July he took part in his first raid on the harbour at Tobruk, a thousand-mile round trip that consumed some seven hours flying time. According to his commanding officer, Murray's Wellington scored a direct hit on an enemy cargo ship in this opening sortie. Two days later he and his crew were at it again, this time attacking unspecified "land targets" in the city. On 12 July, the day before the next assault on the harbour facilities, he excitedly wrote his parents, almost as if his blood was up for the first time:

We are at present in the middle of a campaign that is making headlines in the papers. "Every night by the mellow moonlight" . we are really blasting a path through to victory and then to make sure, come down to shoot [Jerry] up -- boy what fun! . Our kite smells like the rifle range during a prize shoot as we come screaming out of a dive and pull up to safer heights. We literally turn night into day and wake Jerry out of his dreams.

Although he went on to discuss more mundane matters, it was clear that the hectic Tobruk "campaign" was uppermost in his mind, re-stirring the martial inclinations of his youth and the thrill of school triumphs on the rifle range.

The raid Murray took part in on 16 July 1942 - his fourth on Tobruk over some nine days and his eighteenth operation overall -- was destined, however, to be his last. Had he survived it, he might have written much what a fellow Hamiltonian did, recalling his own foray in a Halifax bomber some months later. "Typical of our desert operations", Jack Watts, a navigator, wrote, "we took off with a full load of high explosives . and set course for Tobruk .." "Inside the aircraft", his fine memoir continues,

we were comfortable in our khaki shirts and slacks, flying boots and white roll-neck sweaters that warded off the chill at altitude .. I began studying the ground as we approached Tobruk. getting ready to guide the pilot to the aiming point. Tobruk stood out clearly against the sea as the desert slid behind us . we skimmed the built-up area, heading straight for the docks [and stores] .. By now, the shocking incandescent glare of the searchlights filled the hull with moving shadows and flak from the anti-aircraft batteries below began clawing at the sky around us .. No sooner did I see [our] bombs begin to fall than the whole aircraft shook violently, rocked by an explosive wave.

Jack Watts survived the destruction of his aircraft and lived to tell the compelling tale. Murray Bennetto did not. What he had called the "time of his life" and the "fun" of the bombing raid were abruptly ended on that July night in 1942. The Wellington bomber he was co-piloting was illuminating the target for other aircraft when it was seen to be hit and go down in flames. Murray, the sole Canadian on board, and the rest of the six-man Commonwealth crew were killed. He was posthumously appointed Pilot Officer.

Murray Arthur Bennetto is buried in the Tobruk War Cemetery, Cyrenaica, Libya.

C.M. Johnston


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Robert Bennetto, Robert Bennetto Jr., Margaret Houghton, Norman Shrive, Jack Watts, Gertrude (Bennetto) Weaver, Morley Weaver, Marion Webb, and Robert Webb provided welcome help of varying kinds. Gertrude Weaver and Robert Bennetto Jr. kindly produced vital documentation and recollections of Murray Bennetto's pre-enlistment and wartime life. Without their documentary yield (described below) this biography in its present form would not have seen the light of day.

SOURCES: A collection of wartime letters, postcards, photographs, and newspaper cuttings, in the possession of Gertrude Weaver and Robert Bennetto Jr.; Pilot Officer Murray Bennetto's flying log book, in the possession of Robert Bennetto Jr.; National Archives of Canada: Wartime Personnel Records / Service Record of P/O Murray A. Bennetto (includes copy of letter to Mrs. F.R. Bennetto from J.D. Warner, OC, 148 Sqdn., 31 July 1942); Commonwealth War Graves Commission: Commemorative Information, P/O Murray A. Bennetto; Les Allison and Harry Hayward, They Shall Grow Not Old: A Book of Remembrance (Brandon, MA: Commonwealth Air Training Plan Museum Inc., 1996, 2 nd printing), 46; Jack Watts, Nickels and Nightingales (Burnstown ON: General Store Publishing House, 1995), 11-15; Bill Hockney and Moe Gates, eds., Nadir to Zenith: An Almanac of Stories by Canadian Military Navigators (Trenton ON: the editors, 2002), 91-3 [Bill Hockney, "A Desert Queen Mystery"]; Spencer Dunmore, Wings for Victory: The Remarkable Story of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan in Canada (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1994), 353, and chap. 4; Robert Collins, The Long and the Short and the Tall: An Ordinary Airman's War (Saskatoon: Western Producer Prairie Books, 1986), 1-2; B.H. Liddell Hart, ed., The Rommel Papers (London: Collins, 1953), 228-32.

Hamilton Public Library / Special Collections: Vox Lycei , 1931 , 48, 1932 , 58, 1933-4 , 10, 53-6; Canadian Baptist Archives / McMaster Divinity College: McMaster University Student File 5267, Murray A. Bennetto, Biographical File, Murray A. Bennetto; McMaster University Library / W. Ready Archives: Marmor , 1935 , 129, Silhouette , 5 Nov. 1943, 3; The Fiat Club: in honour of its members killed or reported missing while on active service, World War II, 1939-1945, May 19 th , 1946, First United Church, Hamilton, Ont.

[ For related biographies, see Albert Harry Mildon, Charles Leonard Szumlinski ]