Most people drive to their summer cabins, our family drove DUKWs

First person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Do you have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.

As the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings came and went this year, I was taken back to my family’s connection with the D-Day DUKWs.

Most people drive to their houses by car; our family rode DUKWs.

What is a DUKW? It is a military amphibious vehicle that played an important supporting role on D-Day. The name is derived from an acronym based on the manufacturer’s coding: D, for the year of development, 1942; U, for an amphibious vehicle; K, for four-wheel drive; and W, for dual rear wheels. The five-ton vehicle can carry two and a half tons of supplies, along with 25 soldiers and their equipment. That was just the right size for our needs too.

I am part of a multi-generational family with several camps on the shore of Lake Pogamasing, about 75 kilometers northwest of Sudbury, near the Spanish River and the CP railway line.

When my grandfather, WB Plaunt, closed his lumber business in 1940, he created a summer retreat at a nearby former logging camp on Pog (our nickname for the lake). However, it was four kilometers from a railway stop where a river and lake had to be crossed. Access to our camp in the summer was a logistical conundrum.

Back then, the journey to the camp was done in stages. Supplies and people had to be lifted, carried, lugged and transported by horse and cart, jeeps, scows, boats and packs. First we took the train from Sudbury to the whistle stop in Sheahan. We then crossed the Spanish River via a dilapidated wooden bridge before following a two-kilometre logging road to reach the lake, where we eventually loaded a boat for the last three kilometers to our cabins.

The trip was more of a grueling expedition than an enjoyable outing.

It was a friend of my uncle who suggested a solution. He had commanded a DUKW in the Pacific during World War II and convinced my uncle that this was the answer to our transportation problems.

Coincidentally, in the spring of 1959, a tour company sold his DUKW and we brought him to Northern Ontario.

We were confident that our first DUKW trip to Pog could be accomplished in two days, with one night of camping along the route.

When we left our home in Sudbury, driving on the highway was easy. But by the time we reached the Spanish River, two front springs had broken, penetrating the hull and creating two large holes, allowing water to enter the engine. We hoped that the three DUKW pumps, plus a spare pump, would alleviate these concerns.

There were other obstacles too. The increasing melting of the spring snows left the Spanish River full of pulp logs flowing downstream to the mill.

We took off at two o’clock – powered by six wheels, a 20-inch propeller and guarded by two teenagers on the foredeck holding pike poles to divert any logs. When we got stuck, we wrapped the winch cable around a tree or boulder and crawled up the river.

While camping on a sandbar in the middle of the river that night, we realized that some of the rubber covers had come loose, allowing water to seep in. That extra pump we had with us now kept us afloat.

The second day started on smooth water and we were hopeful. But without warning the engine suddenly stopped. Too much water drowned the engine. Discouraged, we took the train back to Sudbury.

Later that summer my uncle returned with friends to replace the engine, fix the leaks and drive the DUKW to our camp. What a party we had that long weekend.

From that moment on, the DUKW has more than fulfilled its potential. When we got off the train in Sheahan, we boarded that DUKW for an hour’s ride over land and water to the back door of our camps. It didn’t always go smoothly, but it rarely failed.

Our first DUKW lasted 15 years. Because this amphibian was now indispensable, we bought extra. The DUKWs carried four generations of family, friends and dogs; our summer supply of groceries and fuel; boxcars; and also many of the lake’s inhabitants. Every weekend our fleet of DUKWs and associated safety boats sailed across the lake to and from the railway line.

After decades, the usefulness of our DUKWs came to an end. Families now arrived by seaplane and ATVs and most had boats. In 2015, only two were barely operational. A relative bought the last one and sold it to a Dutch collector.

I don’t know if the new owner took our former DUKW to the festivities in Normandy. But in my imagination it will be there, emerging from the ocean onto the beaches, as so many of its comrades did eighty years ago.

Like the invading armies on D-Day, our family community would never have been successful without that incredible amphibious vehicle.

Andy Thomson lives in Toronto.