Elmer Denison had been my Grade VIII teacher. Looking back, he probably thought he was doing me a favour, since I was a small and rather immature 18 year old. I thank him now for that, but my mind was set on being a he-man. I accepted the offer, but when I found out that the job included shining his shoes, making his bed, I was not enthused. The first time my name came up for quarter watch guard duty, I eagerly accepted, neglecting to explain that I was a batman, and would therefore have been excused from such mundane chores as quarter watch and kitchen fatigue. Needless to say, that was the end of my batman career.
We had, in the early days of Valcartier, an officer by the name of Captain McLeod. Where he came from and where he went is still an unanswered question for me.
He was tough. He gave us lectures on the perils of venereal disease, and how to avoid same. He taught us deportment as a soldier, and other behaviour that marks a good soldier.
While he was lecturing, if he thought your attention was wavering in the slightest, his punishment was swift and severe. He made Reg Taylor stand at attention for a half-hour in the blazing sun for absently-mindedly plucking a blade of grass while the good Captain was making a point on some important policy, such as, why the puttee should be wound clockwise instead of otherwise.
Art Duggan suffered a similar fate for admitting he was tired at the beginning of a lecture on the merits of personal cleanliness. Fortunately, Captain McLeod was left behind at Valcartier, and we never saw him more.
The toilets were working, but there were no stalls, just a row of crappers. In fact, the whole room was bare except for a few essentials. In addition to that, some of the toilets in our hut were continually getting plugged, and the contents thereof sometimes overflowed to the floor.
One Saturday, in early November, Lance Ross, who was then a Corporal, was assigned to command the Quarter Guard. Now, Lance like all of us, liked a good time, and still does in spite of his ninety years. On this particular day, Lance got a day pass to go to Moncton. He was supposed to be present at 6 pm, to take care of the Changing of the Guard.
When Lance didn't show up at six, yours truly, Good Samarttan, meddlerr, take your choice, and a buck private to boot, undertook to save a buddy from trouble, and not being able to locate another NCO, it being Saturday and all, I decided to change the Guard myself. I should add that Lance had earned the respect of all of us, even though our military career's had been short. I was just doing what a buddy would do to help another buddy. Anyone in No.17 Platoon would have done the same for him. I located all the guys who were supposed to go on Guard Duty and got them posted.
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Lance came in about eleven-thirty, with his crooked grin a little more pronounced, and after getting a report from me, went into the washroom. When he came out, he said, "There�s someone in there." That reminded me, and armed with a flashlight, we went in for a look.
