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 �office� was a futile effort in the gfacxe 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 Lester�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 tha 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 ranks� 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.
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