Winnipeg, home of the Soldier of the Horse

While researching for “Soldier of the Horse”, I wanted to ‘walk the ground’ so as to immerse myself in my research and get a feel for the times. Part of this involved a trip to France and Moreuil Wood, but I also made a trip to Winnipeg, where the story starts out. I had been to the Manitoba capital several times as a youth, because my mother’s family had a cottage on Lake Winnipeg, and had also visited for a family reunion a few years back. Fortunately my cousin Bill and his wife Marilyn still lived there when I returned, so I had not only guides to help me find my way around, but drivers who whisked me from place to place.

One edifice from 1918 still proudly standing is the former Canadian Pacific station, now housing offices of various social and other organizations. Right next to it would have been the Royal Alexandra Hotel, long gone, alas; but I was able to reconstitute it for “Soldier”.

Some of the nefarious actions that led Tom into the army took place in the Builders’ Exchange Building on where else but Portage Avenue, the quintessential Winnipeg street. It was located very much downtown, more or less across the street from the former site of Eaton’s (where the real-life Soldier later worked), now a hockey emporium. There my fictional character Henry Zink plotted and schemed, much as did his real-life counterpart.

Perisher (Part IV)

In Perisher Parts I to III, I refer often to “Teacher”, the instructor, examiner, and sometime executioner on whether a given officer is up to commanding a British (and in former times Canadian) submarine. I have no reason to think Teacher who put his charges through their paces in HMS Alderney while I was a member of her wardroom was any different than his predecessors or successors.

He was, though, a formidable naval officer. Sandy Woodward, more formally Admiral Sir John Forster (Sandy) Woodward, GBE, KCB, most notably commanded the British naval forces in the Falklands War of 1982. In that role, he ordered the sinking of the Belgrano by HMS Conqueror.

In his subsequent writing Admiral Woodward made it clear he would have given the order with or without Whitehall’s blessing. His request for approval was routed through Whitehall, and made it to Margaret Thatcher’s desk—and she didn’t hesitate to authorize the sinking.

At the time many in Britain and abroad felt the torpedoing of the Belgrano was almost a war crime—now refuted by the facts and confirmed as a legitimate act by the Belgrano's Argentinian captain.

 I recall then-Commander Sandy Woodward as a plain-spoken, direct, demanding and very proficient submariner. He continues to serve his country, even though his submarine days are well past.

He continues to play the hawk, writing for the “Mail Online” on defence matters. (For a sample, see below.) Among other positions, he has stated that Britain would not be able to defend the Falklands given recent naval and military cutbacks.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2003263/Falkland-Islands-Britain-defend-English-Channel.html

Perisher (Part III)

I have recently been in touch via the internet with a Scottish friend. We initially “met” because of a mutual interest in WW I and the cavalry. Since then, he has also taken an interest in my blog, which deals with submarine matters as well as the cavalry.

He recently referred me to a site that features a BBC documentary about the Perisher.

It provides a fascinating but brief look at what the course was like, and no doubt still is like. The stress under which the hopeful candidates labour is very evident.

I was particularly excited to see the footage because it features HMS Oracle, a diesel-electric O-boat of the same vintage as the now retired HMCS Ojibwa, Onondaga, and Okanagan, the latter being the only RCN submrarine in which I was lucky enough to serve. The footage of Oracle is brief, and right toward the end.

If any readers have other sites featuring footage of O-boats, A-boats etc I’d be very excited to hear from them.
Here is the site:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1wr8J-edbo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

S. H. Williams, Author: "Stand to Your Horses" Part III

Captain S. H. Williams, Military Cross, was the author of “Stand to Your Horses”. (See Sam Williams Parts I and II). Williams worked for the T. Eaton Company in Winnipeg before the start of World War I. After war broke out, he enlisted in the Fort Garry Horse, and in due course was commissioned. The Fort Garrys at that time were in England, and Williams, who was training in Winnipeg, could not get a berth to join his regiment. They were not actively in the front lines at that time, and did not need more men. The Strathcona’s, however, did need men and were in action. Williams to his credit resigned his commission, reenlisted as a private in the Straths, and got overseas almost immediately.

He served with great distinction for the rest of the war, earning the nickname “Lucky Luke”, as mentioned earlier, as he came through the whole conflict without becoming a casualty—a real rarity.

Tom Mackay, my father, also enlisted in Winnipeg but after Williams, and not very willingly. For a fictionalized version of how my father came to be in the Strathcona’s, see my novel Soldier of the Horse. Dad and Williams knew each other well—perhaps too well—but that story is for another day. Oddly enough, both worked for Eaton’s after the war, and had some minimal correspondence. But during the Strath’s battles in France, they served well together.

Perisher (Part II)

(For Part I, see October 8th post.)
Operating as the Perisher training vessel, HMS Alderney was at sea in the Firth of Clyde, the narrow waterway that is the access to Glasgow and not coincidentally Helensburgh and the RN’s submarine base at Faslane. Our depth was fifty-eight feet. We were running blind, as far as vision is concerned—the periscopes were down, so we would be leaving no trace on the surface of the water.

The Perisher candidate stood, checking a stopwatch that dangled on a cord around his neck. At the helm, on the hydroplane controls, at the panel, on the torpedo angle calculator were the most experienced members of the crew. And standing in the background was Teacher, arms folded, his own stopwatch around his neck.

The Perisher candidate tensed. It had been thirty seconds since his last look through the attack periscope. His job was to get us safely under the destroyer screen and fire a dummy torpedo at a merchant ship. In his head he would have imprinted the ranges, bearings, and courses of the surface ships when he last raised the periscope.

“Up periscope.” His voice shook with tension. He stoops to meet the eyepiece as the scope slides smoothly upward. “Target bears—that!” and another officer reads off the bearing. “Range is—two thousand yards. Put me forty degrees on her starboard bow—”

The candidate is zeroing in on the doomed merchantman, when another voice interrupts. It is Teacher.“Flood Q! Full ahead. Keep 120 feet.”

Teacher has taken over from the candidate in order to avoid a dangerous situation. The candidate has forgotten to check the location of the screening destroyer. Even though this is a training exercise, the destroyer crews have been ordered to turn toward any periscope they see—a very dangerous situation for the submarine to be in, as a collision could sink her with all hands, exercise or not.

When Teacher ordered Q tank flooded, the boat became heavy and was quickly dragged down, getting her safely below the surface ships.

Unfortunately for the Perisher candidate, his bags were packed by a crew member, the Alderney surfaced in due course, and rendezvoused with a tug. The candidate, with his bag and a traditional bottle of scotch, disembarked. His Perisher is over. He will never command a submarine.