The Last Lady from Hell (6 page)

We were just about to hoist the sail when a woman near the dock began screaming. The ice had given away and her daughter had broken through. The young girl was clinging to the edge of the hole, but the current was slowly pulling her under.

A crowd immediately gathered, but no one seemed to know what to do. Bill dashed from the boat across the ice at a sprint, he dove onto his belly and was sliding toward the hole at a good clip. His trajectory was such that he would pass just to the right of the hole and slide right by. As he passed the hole, he reached out with his left hand and grabbed the girl from the water. Bill rolled to his right, which catapulted the youngster over the top of him and clear of danger and they both skid to a stop fifteen feet away for the hole.

Bill had hardly come to a stop when he was up on his feet. He ran to the girl, snatched her up into his cradling arms and presented her to her astonished and appreciative mother.

The whole thing happened so fast that most people missed it and Bill didn’t stick around for any praise. He returned to the ice boat and to my slack-jawed stare.

“What?” he said, as though his heroics were as normal as brushing his teeth.

Both Bill and Dan McKee knew my older brother Alan and would regularly ask of his whereabouts. This I appreciated more than either
would ever know. Under their tough drummer facade, these men were old softies and dependable to the core.

I had been accepted into pre-med and I was struggling with a heavy workload. Life became a juggling exercise between studies and bagpipe practice. This full schedule allowed for only one or two nights a week when I could escape to
The Portsmouth
for some socializing. I would savor these moments when I could just relax, no brainwork, no competitive piping, just good friends and beer.

I recall one evening when our socializing was rudely interrupted. The problem with pubs is that too much beer can bring out the worst in some people. It can provide an excuse for young men with high levels of testosterone to flex their beer muscles, not their brains, and such was the case this night.

A Queen’s football player had taken a shine to Sheila, but was not getting the response he had expected. So he decided to prove his manhood by trying to pick a fight with Dan McKee.

It was pure madness. Dan was at least six inches taller and a good fifty pounds heavier. Beer can make a plain girl pretty, a big man smaller, and a small man bigger. Dan ignored the taunts, dismissing this fellow with no more than a sideways glance and a toothy grin. Dan’s nonchalant reaction seemed to frustrate the drunken football player so he persisted with his verbal assaults. Several of his teammates were joining in the fun, spurring him on, which only emboldened the drunkard.

Finally, Bill Lewis, who had been carefully watching the event unfold, stepped between Dan and the big mouth. Bill moved to within inches of the fellow’s face.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, Pal?” Bill asked.

The man took a step back, looked Bill up and down and said, “Well, Buster, it looks like you’re about my–”

Before another word came out of his mouth, Bill unleashed a haymaker to the drunk’s stomach. The man’s eyes bugged out, he let out a groaning rush of air and sank slowly to the bar room floor gasping for the breath that had been so clearly knocked out of him. Bill stepped over the gasper and began moving toward the man’s friends when Dan’s big hand reached across his chest to stop him.

“Relax Bill,” Dan said.

Terry, Sean, and I were closing ranks to help Bill but stopped with Dan’s command.

“Look fellows,” Dan said to the man’s teammates. “You guys seem like reasonable gents. We came here to enjoy good company and cheap beer, so I’d like to extend an invitation for you to do the same. The next round is on me.”

They looked at one another, for their allegiance to the gasper was short-lived and the prospect of a free beer was certainly more inviting than that of a pounding. They decided to join us and we ended up making some good friends that night.

I, however, was still a little rattled after the confrontation. Not being much of a fighter–just an occasional scuffle in the schoolyard–the adrenaline was still pumping through me and my hands were mildly shaking. I was astounded as I watched Dan, Bill and the others laughing and drinking with their new friends. There was no sign of anger or hostility to be found. These men with whom I had the pleasure of associating were very special indeed. Their qualities would be put to the ultimate test in the not too distant future, as would mine.

PART THREE

THE REASONS TO JOIN

The First Canadian Expeditionary Forces, Ypres, Belgium

[Recreated from historical records]

I
n the fall of 1914, with the outbreak of the war in Europe, the British Empire put out a request for help throughout England and all her realm.

Canada was considered under the crown so the Governor General of Canada turned to Sir Sam Hughs, the Minister of Militia, for help. Because Canada had only a militia and not a formal army, Hughs put out an urgent request to all young men to answer the call for help. Although it was a voluntary request it was answered resoundingly with thousands of men ready to protect the Crown.

Canada rapidly moved to prepare a large flotilla of transports and an enormous quantity of supplies and men. Training camps were set up near Quebec City where the men would receive some basic training, uniforms, equipment–including the notoriously unreliable Ross rifles–and an assignment to a specific unit or branch according to one’s qualifications.

By September 21, thirty-two merchant ships had been converted into troop and supply transports. Two days later the ships were in port, ready to be loaded with 7679 horses, 70 big guns, 110 motor vehicles, 705 horse-drawn vehicles, 82 bicycles and over 100,000 sacks of flour.

Nearly thirty thousand men would also be on the ships. They were the First Canadian Expeditionary Force, consisting of 29,070 men and 147 officers. The men had trained for two weeks at Camp Valcartier outside of Quebec City and were ready for orders. The supplies had been steadily coming and all that was needed was to load the massive fleet in some organized manner.

When one considers the magnitude of such an undertaking, it is easy to understand that there would be some setbacks. In fact, it was suggested that Sir Hughs insistent, hands-on involvement had somewhat delayed the process. Regardless of the minor setbacks, it remains one of the most monumental achievements in Canadian history. Thirty-two ships, over 30,000 men trained and ready, and a massive amount of supplies were ready in less than six weeks from the initial request.

Among those brave volunteers was Alan MacDonald, the oldest son of the MacDonald family and Ian’s brother. He was an avid rugby player and a fine athlete. He had played in his first year at Queens and was considered one of the fastest and toughest lads on the rugger field.

Alan had been assigned to Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry. At Camp Valcartier, the men were selected for areas that would suit their capabilities. It became obvious to Alan’s superiors that he was remarkably fast and had a good mind for recall. He was placed in the communications corp. During his brief training at Valcartier, he was put through the rigors of military training along with classroom training in the area of communications in a theater of
war. He became proficient in hardline telephones, signal light operation and, most importantly, the art of running while transporting information and reading a map of the trenches. Alan knew that his training would continue in England and he was ready for the challenge.

The word came down for the Canadian Light Infantry to move aboard their assigned ship
The Royal George
. She was a large vessel, some 525 feet length overall, with a beam of 60 feet. She was owned by the Canadian Northern Steamship Line since 1910 and had plenty of nautical miles behind her. Not a pretty ship, but a sturdy ship. She was to be home to 1,175 troops for the next two weeks.

In her holds
The Royal George
carried a combination of ammunition and flour–5,602 sacks of flour to be exact. The men often joked that if she were to be sunk by U-Boats all that would remain would be a giant floating dumpling with 1,175 men stuck to it.

As funny as that sounded to all aboard, the reality was that German submarines were indeed the single greatest threat to the convoy. Because of this, precautions had been taken by British Admiralty to protect the convoy with an escort of war ships from the “Grand Fleet,” a term used by Brits in reference to their massive array of warships.

The escort was made up of seven warships:
HMS Charybdis, HMS Diana, HMS Eclipse, HMS Glory, HMS Magnificent, HMS Princess Royal, and HMS Talbot
. They took up positions along the convoy with the
Magnificent
in the lead and the
Eclipse, Diana
and
Charybdis
leading each of the three columns of transports.
The Princess Royal
was on the port wing, the
Glory
on the starboard wing and
The Talbot
brought up the rear. The convoy and escort was so massive it spanned over twenty-one miles long.

On October 1, a message was read to the troops aboard each ship just prior to their departure from Gaspe Bay for the crossing.

“On the eve of your departure from Canada, I wish to congratulate you on having the privilege of taking part, with the other forces of the crown, in fighting for the honor of the King and Empire. You have nobly responded to the call of duty. Canada will know how to appreciate the patriotic spirit that animates you. I have complete confidence that you will do your duty and that Canada will have every reason to be proud of you. You leave these shores with the knowledge that all Canadian hearts beat for you, and that our prayers and best wishes will ever attend you. “May God bless you and bring you home victorious.”

–F. M. ARTHUR, Governor General of Canada
.

Alan wrote of this event in one of the many letters he sent home. He told his family how excited he was at being involved in this historic undertaking. He described how, as he stood at the rail of the
Royal George
watching Canadian soil disappear astern and seeing the convoy stretched to the horizon, he couldn’t help the profound sense of pride that came over him.