I loved the job. It gave me contact with the powers-that-be and a certain amount
of prestige with the rest of the guys, and even some influence with other ranks
higher than mine.
I had two runners under my control. Their function was to deliver messages and to
keep "D" Company Headquarters informed of the goings-on in the rest of the
Regiment. I remained on this job until we went into action, and even after I stayed
as close as possible to Major Parker, acting mainly as a runner, because any
attempts to maintain any sort of an office was a futile effort in the face of enemy
action. But that story is yet to come.
Number One Water Street
Number 1 Water Street was one of those places which is found in every city, and
let's not be coy about it, a place that is inevitably found by service men when far
from home.
A group of the guys decided to visit the place one evening only to find that a
bunch of English sailors off a ship that had recently docked in St. John's had taken
over the amusement site. War was immediately declared and the battle started. It
ended quickly enough, with the English sailors being dispersed, but not without a
considerable amount of damage to their persons. The racket soon alerted the
Royal Newfoundland Constabulary, and the chase began. It ended with three of
the participants cooling off in police cells, and the rest of the gang making their
escape back to Leste's Field.
It happened that the next day the Regiment was slated to move back to Canada.
There were three of our boys still in custody and up for punishment before the
Court. A Good Samaritan, who shall remain nameless, advanced the money
needed to pay their fines, and they rejoined the Regiment in time to board the
Lady Drake in St. John's harbour.
In early August, on the day following the events just described we packed up and
left St. John's on the Lady Drake. She was one of the "Lady" line of cruise ships
that had been pressed into service to transport military personnel, but only so
recently that many of her regular staff were still on board in their regular capacities.
Graydon Heath and I shared a cabin on "A" Deck, luxurious accommodations for
a couple of other rank's accustomed to sleeping on pailliasses in the bunkhouse.
We were awakened each morning by the ship's bugler.
The food was excellent! The trip up the St. Lawrence was a great thrill for me,
and I kept a sort of diary in the form of a letter which I sent to my Mother when
we docked in Quebec City.
We went back to our old stomping grounds in Valcartier for a very short stay
before leaving for Saint John, New Brunswick. "D" Company was assigned
guard duty on the West Side. Whenever I hear the songs, "Marie Elena" or Bie
Mir Bist du Schoen I think of those days, only nineteen of them,in Saint John.
Back again to Valcartier! We moved around so much that some wag dubbed us
"The Price Brothers Circus. This time, though, it was for real. We were there just
long enough to get jabbed with a few needles, get outfitted with tropical uniforms,
go on a very short embarkation leave, then climb on a train headed west.
I had never been west of Quebec City, so each day was a new experience. I was
nineteen then, and as green as the prairie grass that went by my window. We
were in old colonial cars, with wooden seats and overhead bunks that were pulled
down at night. Byron Willett, who always had much to say, was up on the top
bunk giving the rest of us a verbal going-over when someone slammed the bunk
shut, locking him in.
He would have smothered, but some kind soul braved a tongue-lashing and pulled
the bunk down. We were all roundly cursed, but Byron's bark was much worse
than the bites he threatened us with but never carried out.
Our food was served in the cars and we ate at our seats from tin plates and
enamel mugs, We were supposed to collect the dirty dishes and return them to the
galley, but many of them are probably still rusting along the railroad track.
At Horne Payne, in Northern Ontario, we stopped early one morning and were
taken on a route march. It was frosty, and snow flakes were in the air. It seemed
so bleak and desolate that I never forgot it, and in the first years that followed I
would have gladly exchanged my bug-infested billet for the frost of Horne Payne.
of prestige with the rest of the guys, and even some influence with other ranks
higher than mine.
I had two runners under my control. Their function was to deliver messages and to
keep "D" Company Headquarters informed of the goings-on in the rest of the
Regiment. I remained on this job until we went into action, and even after I stayed
as close as possible to Major Parker, acting mainly as a runner, because any
attempts to maintain any sort of an office was a futile effort in the face of enemy
action. But that story is yet to come.
Number One Water Street
Number 1 Water Street was one of those places which is found in every city, and
let's not be coy about it, a place that is inevitably found by service men when far
from home.
A group of the guys decided to visit the place one evening only to find that a
bunch of English sailors off a ship that had recently docked in St. John's had taken
over the amusement site. War was immediately declared and the battle started. It
ended quickly enough, with the English sailors being dispersed, but not without a
considerable amount of damage to their persons. The racket soon alerted the
Royal Newfoundland Constabulary, and the chase began. It ended with three of
the participants cooling off in police cells, and the rest of the gang making their
escape back to Leste's Field.
It happened that the next day the Regiment was slated to move back to Canada.
There were three of our boys still in custody and up for punishment before the
Court. A Good Samaritan, who shall remain nameless, advanced the money
needed to pay their fines, and they rejoined the Regiment in time to board the
Lady Drake in St. John's harbour.
In early August, on the day following the events just described we packed up and
left St. John's on the Lady Drake. She was one of the "Lady" line of cruise ships
that had been pressed into service to transport military personnel, but only so
recently that many of her regular staff were still on board in their regular capacities.
Graydon Heath and I shared a cabin on "A" Deck, luxurious accommodations for
a couple of other rank's accustomed to sleeping on pailliasses in the bunkhouse.
We were awakened each morning by the ship's bugler.
The food was excellent! The trip up the St. Lawrence was a great thrill for me,
and I kept a sort of diary in the form of a letter which I sent to my Mother when
we docked in Quebec City.
We went back to our old stomping grounds in Valcartier for a very short stay
before leaving for Saint John, New Brunswick. "D" Company was assigned
guard duty on the West Side. Whenever I hear the songs, "Marie Elena" or Bie
Mir Bist du Schoen I think of those days, only nineteen of them,in Saint John.
Back again to Valcartier! We moved around so much that some wag dubbed us
"The Price Brothers Circus. This time, though, it was for real. We were there just
long enough to get jabbed with a few needles, get outfitted with tropical uniforms,
go on a very short embarkation leave, then climb on a train headed west.
I had never been west of Quebec City, so each day was a new experience. I was
nineteen then, and as green as the prairie grass that went by my window. We
were in old colonial cars, with wooden seats and overhead bunks that were pulled
down at night. Byron Willett, who always had much to say, was up on the top
bunk giving the rest of us a verbal going-over when someone slammed the bunk
shut, locking him in.
He would have smothered, but some kind soul braved a tongue-lashing and pulled
the bunk down. We were all roundly cursed, but Byron's bark was much worse
than the bites he threatened us with but never carried out.
Our food was served in the cars and we ate at our seats from tin plates and
enamel mugs, We were supposed to collect the dirty dishes and return them to the
galley, but many of them are probably still rusting along the railroad track.
At Horne Payne, in Northern Ontario, we stopped early one morning and were
taken on a route march. It was frosty, and snow flakes were in the air. It seemed
so bleak and desolate that I never forgot it, and in the first years that followed I
would have gladly exchanged my bug-infested billet for the frost of Horne Payne.