Dr. Vernon Charles Evered

DR. VERNON CHARLES EVERED March 1925 -- July 2010 Dental Surgeon and WWII RAF Veteran of 'Legs 11' Fighter Squadron Motto: Ociores acrioresque aquilis 'Swifter and keener than eagles.' "Junior you will never die," so said Mert Adler to the sprog pilot; and Junior did not die during WWII, although there were a few close calls. However, a long illness, stoically borne, eventually took the last but one pilot from the wartime squadron. Passionately in love with flying since a toddler, he was forced to leave school at 14 years and become a 'riveter's mate'. Nevertheless, father's headmaster saw something in the young man, and after each 12 hour riveting shift tutored my father, for free, in all the subjects essential for matriculation. In 1942, desperately worried WWII would be over before he could fly, my father turned up at the RAF Oxford recruiting office. There was a persuasive interview that he should become a gunner, but he wanted to be only one thing -- a fighter pilot. He walked out of the interview, but next day received a telegram inviting him for pilot training assessment. Dad claimed to be 19 years of age and said his mother had lost his birth certificate. At 6 foot he sounded convincing, but he was a mere 16 years and 3 months. His father's comment on being told his son had 'joined up' was along the lines that he wouldn't trust him with a baby carriage let alone a plane! Training began at Tangmere in the south of England on Mosquitoes, then he was transferred to Linton-on-Ouse and he met a pretty young lady called Margaret (she would later become his wife and the love of his life, but in 1941, flying held more attraction than young ladies). It would be almost 3 more years before he would meet Margaret again at Linton and eventually marry her. From Linton he transferred to Potchefstroom airport in South Africa where he gained his 'wings' days after his 17th birthday. Months passed as he practised his skills ferrying planes in Africa and the mid-east. The time came though when 'legs eleven', wiped out in Crete, reformed in India and Burma. Flying spitfires and 'hurry boxes' (hurricanes), father went on to serve in Poona, Imphal, Kohima, Tamu, Sinthe and other trouble spots along the Burma/India border. He participated in the Battle of Imphal (state of Manipur Northeast India) and the Battle of Kohima. He lost many good friends, but in the end his only comment on WWII was that he 'loved every minute of it especially the flying.' Dad fell into dentistry by accident and while an excellent and exacting practitioner in his Bay Street practise, he missed planes. Ever year, until illness restricted him, he would faithfully watch the CNE Airshow. His biggest frustration though, was the way his illness curbed his travel. He was 72 when he climbed his first mountain and took up scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef. Free at last, he can rejoin his beloved Margaret (deceased 1992). He will be sorely missed by his loving daughter Margaret Ann and was predeceased by his dear brother Ivor in May, 2010. He and Margaret will soon start their long journey back to where they first met and be reunited forever, then part of him will travel on to Burma and join the spirits of the other 'Legs 11' pilots that never made it home. Cremation has taken place. Per Ardua Ad Astra.