The faded black-and-white photograph shows a young pilot in his Royal Canadian Air Force uniform, smiling confidently before his final mission. For decades, Flight Lieutenant Donald MacLean’s sacrifice has been commemorated annually in the small English town of Peterborough, while remaining largely unknown in his home country.
“My uncle gave everything to save those townspeople,” says Margaret MacLean, Donald’s niece, as she carefully handles his wartime letters in her Winnipeg home. “The British have never forgotten him, but here in Canada, it’s like he never existed.”
On April 15, 1945, just weeks before the war’s end, MacLean was piloting his damaged Lancaster bomber back from a mission over Germany when he realized the aircraft was going down over the densely populated area of Peterborough. Witnesses reported that MacLean, rather than bailing out with his crew, stayed at the controls to steer the doomed plane away from homes and a hospital, crashing instead into an empty field.
All seven crew members perished, but hundreds of civilians were spared.
“Every year, the town holds a memorial service at the crash site,” explains local historian James Harrington during a phone interview from Peterborough. “Schoolchildren lay wreaths, the mayor attends, and they’ve even named a street after him. Yet when British visitors come to Canada and mention MacLean, they’re met with blank stares.”
The MacLean family has spent nearly a decade petitioning the Canadian government to formally recognize Donald’s heroism with a posthumous Cross of Valour, Canada’s highest civilian award for bravery. Their applications have repeatedly stalled in bureaucratic channels.
Veterans Affairs Canada spokesperson Michelle Boudreau confirmed receipt of the family’s application, noting that “historical cases require extensive verification and documentation,” but declined to comment on the status of MacLean’s case specifically.
According to documents obtained through Access to Information requests, MacLean’s case has been reviewed three times since 2015, with recommendations for approval reaching senior departmental levels before apparently disappearing into administrative limbo.
The frustration for the family deepened last month when a British documentary on “forgotten heroes” featured MacLean’s story prominently, generating renewed interest in the UK while barely causing a ripple in Canadian media.
“It’s not just about my uncle getting a medal,” Margaret insists. “It’s about Canadians knowing their own history, about young people learning that ordinary Canadians did extraordinary things.”
Recent polling from the Dominion Institute suggests MacLean’s obscurity isn’t unusual. Their 2024 survey found that 67% of Canadians under 35 couldn’t name a single Canadian military hero from World War II other than general references to “veterans.”
At Winnipeg’s Canadian Forces Base, where a small museum houses artifacts from Manitoba’s military contributions, curator Captain Samantha Dekker acknowledges the challenge. “We have thousands of stories like MacLean’s that deserve telling. The challenge is connecting these historical accounts to contemporary Canadian identity.”
The MacLean family’s campaign has recently gained support from their local MP, who raised the issue during Question Period last month. Several veterans’ groups have also thrown their support behind the effort, with the Royal Canadian Legion’s Manitoba Command passing a resolution urging formal recognition.
“The irony is painful,” says MacLean family spokesman Robert MacLean, Donald’s nephew. “We travel to England and see his name on a memorial plaque, on street signs, in their local history books. Then we come home to Canada where he’s from, and it’s as if he never existed.”
For the town of Peterborough, the connection remains vibrant. Last year, they raised funds to restore the memorial stone at the crash site and invited Canadian officials to attend the 80th anniversary ceremony planned for next April. So far, there’s been no official response
