Wullu's blog

Well it is a couple days after the funeral. Proud to say that MARLANT did it all up right for John and his family. Rear Admiral McFadden, the Base commander, Fleet Chief, Base Chief, two former COs. Full burial party to include an honour guard, piper and bugler. Then there was his friends (not all of course, sailing scheds and the weather...) from the last 17 years. I would guess around 70 sailors all told. Not bad for a short notice funeral in the boondocks during an ice storm.

The eulogies where at the same time heartfelt and funny, reflecting the man they were about. Thankfully the piper did not play Amazing Grace. It is the one song on the pipes guarenteed to have me blubering like an idiot. Three of my fellow, grizzled and jaded sailors said the same thing to me. I don't think I have ever been to a funeral at an Anglican church before. The liturgy was very reminicent of a Catholic funeral. I guess that is to be expected.

Like so many of the funerals I have been to one thing always seems to stand out as the positive memory. This time it was a lady asking me if it would be ok to get some of the expended brass from the three volleys. Anyone who knows anything about the Forces and the Navy in particular, know that they are just nuts about live rounds and expended casings. I asked her what it was for and she responded that they planned to make little reminders for the members of John's Cub Scout troop with them. I went to the Chief running things, explained what it was for and next thing I know there we are policing up the brass for her. After handing over a few casings from the blanks, four of us, within a second of each other said the exact same thing, "What a great idea". Word for word.

Yesterday, 16 March 2007, Cpl Kevin Megeney was laid to rest in Stellerton. I think we all know his story by this time. He did not die in combat but he did die serving his Queen, Country and Family.

Today we will lay to rest one of my oldest friends in the Navy, LS John Harrison. John did not die in combat either, at least not with an enemy he could see. John died of brain cancer. For two years he fought it with every fibre of his being. He may not have had the stature one would associate with a member of the combat arms, but they would have recognized the grit, determination and focus he put into trying to beat his very personal enemy.

The last time I saw John, he was in the Stad hospital getting his ears irrigated since the radiation treatments had dried them out. He was telling me how confident he was that he was going to beat it. As I looked over his shoulder his wife was very slowly and sadly shaking her head. I knew then I would be writing something like this. John never gave up. He never stopped fighting. John had something to fight for. A wife who was as supportive as any of us could ever hope to have and three boys that were his pride and joy.

Not all the heros die in combat.

Rest In Peace Johnny, Rest.

England - Maneuvers on and off the training fields

Arriving with the regiment just prior to Christmas, Cederberg and his compatriots fell into a deep funk of home sickness that exploring London and trying to figure out what the Cockneys might actually be saying helped to lessen.

Not long after they arrived, the senior officers and NCOs that had raised the Regiment were all to be sent home as being too old for combat. Most of these men were WWI veterans and took it in their stride of understanding how the army worked. The men were not so accomadating. The leadership were replaced with what came to be called "the Montrealers" At first this was not term of endearment. After a couple of weeks things came to a head and the Regiment basically went on strike. To quote Cowshit :


The men were willing to tell a Colonel where to head in but a LtGen showed up to work things out and ignoring him would have been too far for even these men who where still civilians in uniform. Things improved and one of the Alex Joes put the learning experience best :


As things settled down in the routine of training, transfers, promotions and the daily grind and routine of soldiering the home sickness lessened and the discipline increased. The Regiment became home and the men it brothers. By now Cederberg had been promoted twice ( after his uncle left for home, he would not accept a promotion with him still around ) and was a Sargent in the support platoon. The training schemes got more and more complex and the confidence of the men increased.

All was not army and training. The people of England welcomed these young men into their homes and the weddings abounded. Fred Cederberg was...

[ Continued ]

First off the blocks we have Fred Cederberg. His book, The Long Road Home, is his account of his time in Italy with the 5th Armoured Division.

He fully expected to spend the summer he turned 18 to be spent chasing the local girls, swimming and doing those things that 18 year old boys do. That was until his uncle showed up. Uncle Gordon was a WWI veteran and now a senior officer in the Cape Breton Highlanders. The Highlanders were recruiting and Gordon was determined that his nephew would be one. Less than an hour after he showed up at sister's door he was gone again with a tall skinny 18 year old in tow.

Cederberg was an Ontario boy, but the family was from Cape Breton so the culture shock was not complete when he met up with his soon to be section mates. Men like Alex Joe MacKinnon, Robert John O'Hanley (aka Pithorse), Alex Joe MacKeegan (aka Cowshit), Big Itch McAllister and so many more, fresh from the coal mines, fishing boats and farms of Cape Breton. With these men he would learn the tricks of the trade of soldiering.

Being part of what was basically an army of civilians and not having any life long driving ambition to dig slit trenches, these men took the training in stride, if not really understanding why it was so important that the buttons shone so you could see yourself in them. Soon Camp Borden would be behind them and the train station beckoned for that inevitable trip to Halifax and troop transports to take the entire 11th Infantry Brigade of the 5th Armoured Division on to England and their home for the next long while.

First it was nicotine. Then along came caffine. And now the worst possible addiction.

Yup, you guessed it. Bacon Dippers...............

What the hell has Christies put into these damn things? There is almost no actual taste to them but once I open a box it does not stand a chance of lasting the day.

Someday I may even buy something to dip them in.