Kit Return Day

 

It was with a heart made heavy by mixed emotions, and no small portion of anxiety for government bureaucracy, that I returned, fourteen years to the day, like a creature returning to its hatchery to spawn and die, to Clothing Stores to return my issued kit.

There my burdens, literal and administrative, were checked off, like a ledger of old sins being tallied up on Judgement Day.

• Belt, trousers 1
• Pack Assembly 1
• Shirt, combat 2
• Coat, cold weather, combat 1
• Coat, wet weather, combat 1

And on it went.

Each article, made intimate by long usage, named, checked on a computer, and tossed into a bin until this, my last duty to King and Country was complete. 

"That's it, sir. You're done." said the Stores Clerk.

Capt Rabbitman Flying High

It was awfully nice of the RCAF to arrange a flight on a C130J Hercules for me on my birthday weekend. OK, there were about 1200 Air Cadets from all over the region in attendance too, but still, we know it was all about me.

As a way to get the "air" into Air Cadets after two years of no gliders, virtual training and restricted summer training, Regional HQ got a couple of C130Js from 436 Transport Squadron in Trenton to log some training hours flying cadets around. Public Affairs got some visibility for the program with press from local and national outlets covering the day as well.

Gratuitous breakfast shot. Starting the weekend right and fortifying myself for the day head.

It was a much different experience form the last familiarization flight I went on. Everything went much smoother. Bus left just after lunch. Our driver was an alumnus of the Squadron and remembered doing famil flights in C119 Flying Boxcars back in the 60s!. We arrived around 1330. Checked in with our manifests and then waited for maybe half an hour, got our safety briefing, then loaded onto the Herc.

The hold was much more crowded than the Globemaster, seats not as comfortable, but still OK. I think I'd be ok in them for a transatlantic flight if I had too. It was a lot noisier and much bumpier. One of my cadets had to use the motion sickness bags provided. As the Loadmaster said in his Safety Briefing: "this plane is designed to make you vomit. I've see big tough infantry guys lose their lunch." The takeoff and landing seemed much more aggressive than the Globemaster too.

After a 25 minute flight down to Port Stanley on Lake Ontario it was back on the bus and home by 1630, half an hour ahead of schedule!

Ready to go!

Flying with the ramp down

My 2i/c took this shot from the other end of the hold. You can see me way at the back near the door to the flight deck.

Only about 7 of the 18 cadets in my group were in the program for the Globemaster flight, so this will be a great engagement for the junior cadets who have only had 2 years of Google Classes and Zoom meetings.

Remembrance Day 2019

His soul swooned softly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

-James Joyce, The Dead

In Which Capt. Rabbitman Takes His Cadets to See the Big Zoomy Thing

A Warrent Officer working at HQ in London leveraged his connections in the Sr. NCM Mafia to bring a C17 Globemaster transport jet from 428 Squadron to London last Saturday for familiarization flights with the Air Cadets. It was a long weekend and only a month's notice, plus seats were limited, so I had a few stressful weeks getting names confirmed, and then removing names from the list up to the last day as cadets dropped out.

But we arrived in London to be told the aircraft was 7 hours late (mechanical issues, aircraft had to be rerouted) and a very harried Sergeant was working frantically to reconfigure the chalks.

However the giant aircraft arrived shortly after we did and our bus driver was OK with staying late. So we hung around and waited....

But at last we were organized into our chalk, put in our ear plugs and got loaded!

For a good part of our half hour flight the aircraft flew with the ramp down, which provided quite the view.

My friend Maj Steve Wilson (he's behind me in the above pic with white hair) has a very nice camera and took most of these pictures. My cell phone mostly got glare trying to shoot the open hatch. 

It was quite the view as the large, but nimble, jet swooped along the shore of L. Erie.

A much later day than planned, but enjoyed by all.

Shambling to Attention

I think most of you are familiar with George MacDonald Fraser's Flashman books. If you aren't, then where have you been hiding? Go read them. Now.

GMFs MacAuslan stories are very much a hidden gem, not getting the same sort of attention that the rollicking adventures of Sir Harry F get. There isn't any sex, or death avoiding adventures in exotic locales. The MacAuslan stories are very different in tone. Quietly humorous and with a deep affection for the soldiers portrayed.

During WW2 GMF served as an infantryman in the 17th Indian Division ("the Black Cats"), part of the 14th Army in India, Burma and Malaya. He describes this experience in his war memoir Quartered Safe Out Here, which is one of the best war memoirs I've ever read. You should go read it. Now. After reaching the dizzying heights of Lance Corporal he was selected for Officers training. By the time he was commissioned, the war was over and he joined his regiment, the Gordon Highlanders doing occupation duty in Libya.

His experiences as a young 2Lt and then Lt, learning how to command a platoon of battle hardened, canny Jocks is what he turned into the short stories featuring Pvt. J MacAuslan "the dirtiest soldier in the world." These stories are a wonderful glimpse of a lost time and world, as the British army was consciously transforming itself from fighting a world war and being an Imperial policeman to something new and strange in the post-Imperial, Cold War world. He commands a troop train in Palestine, worried about Jewish terrorists. He finds himself facing an angry Libyan mob, uncomfortably aware that it's him (a young Lt) and his 30 Jocks with their Enfield rifles standing between the quiet city and an orgy of burning, looting and rape. He has to mount Ceremonial Guard at Edinburgh Castle in front of VIPs and Royalty, only to have one of his kilt straps break mid parade. There is a tense golf tournament with regimental honour at stake and the Walking Disaster, MacAuslan caddying for the RSM. As Battalion Sports Officer he finds himself managing the football team, who know football better than he. He worries he isn't being accepted by the Jocks, when he discovers they have an affectionate nick name for him and think he's 'canny'. A lot of the worries and burdens of a subaltern are portrayed here, which would make the book useful reading for any junior officer. GMF originally presented these stories as fiction, because some of the characters were composites and some of the events didn't happen exactly as told. But as he admits in the Afterword, describing a meeting and drinks with his old CO, there's a lot of truth in the stories, even the unlikely character of MacAuslan.

MacAuslan often, through dumb luck, ends up a bit of a hero. Even though he's filthy, can't march and his kit is in permanent disarray, MacNeil and the platoon have a soft spot for him too. Because even though they have to hide his kit in a closet and get MacAuslan out of garrison during any major inspection, he tries hard and has the North Africa medal (if he can find it) and advanced with rusty bayonet against Rommel at Alamein and Tobruk, and to MacNeil (and GMF) that deserves some consideration.

The story in which MacNeil and MacAuslan are demobilized is quite touching, showing the strange affection between them. It reminded me of my own 'MacAuslan's'. Cadets who can't march, can't keep their uniform clean or tucked in, often late. But they keep cheerfully trying. You get exasperated and yell, you chide, you nag. But for some reason they like you, remembering the times you were considerate and patient, even when you can't. And sometimes they surprise you too. After they've given their final awkward salute and bear marched away, you can't help but wonder how they'll get on. Even though they aren't your responsibility any longer, the bond, and the worry that comes with it, is still there.

Remembrance

From The Ridgeway to the Panjwayi,

From a ridge called Vimy, to the beach at Dieppe,

From Paardeberg Drift to Kapyong

and all points in between,

My deepest gratitude and respect for those who answered our country's call.

Leadership

Saw this on Facebbok recently.

It really resonates. My relationship with my Admin O at the Squadron is very much like Col Henry Blake and Radar on the old show M*A*S*H.

"What am I signing today, Radar?"
"Nothing you need to worry yourself about, sir."
"Okie dokie"

Working shifts I really can't be a micro-manager. I have to set the goals and let them get on with it. I try to put my staff in jobs they're good at and let them play to their strengths. So far it's mostly worked.

I'm really getting now the idea that when the unit does well it's the team that created success. But when things go pear shaped, that's on the Boss, because except in the most extreme instances, it's his fault if the wrong person was put in the job, or they were unprepared or he didn't give appropriate resources, assets, supervision and direction.

This makes me rethink a bit on the Great Captains of history. Hannibal, Frederick the Great, and company may have had the vision, but it was a lot of good staff work that put it into action.

Lunch With the General

Last Remembrance Day after the parade, my Support Committee Chairman (a retired artillery major), comes up to me "I found an RO (Reviewing Officer) for the ACR (Annual Ceremonial Review)."

Usually a Cadet unit might get the local Fire or Police Chief, or if they have an affiliate regiment an officer from there. Or a senior officer who is somehow connected to the unit (friend of someone on staff, alumnus of the unit, etc.). Or the mayor even.

He takes me to meet a Brigadier General complete with Aide de Camp festooned in gold aiguillettes. I put on my best smile and try to hide the quivering in my intestines. The General grew up in Stratford and had decided to attend the parade with his old Regiment. The husband of my Support Committee Secretary had been his Commanding Officer back in the day, and his ADC had been a young Bombardier under the Chairman. So when asked if he'd like to inspect some cadets, he said he'd love to.

Now you can't just invite anyone to be your RO.

For a Senior Officer, say the CO of the local Reserve regiment, the invitation has to come from my Detachment Commander.

For a General Officer the invitation has to come from MY Commanding Officer, the LCol in command of Central Region. Needless to say, everybody in the chain of command between me and the LCol, has to look at it. I get many questions. Of course some units have been cheeky and thought it'd be great to invite some Royal personage until they're told that they are the ones covering any expenses.

Fast forward seven months. Our ACR is fast approaching. Every unit has to have an ACR. Just like the inspections of 18th century regiments, the aim is to demonstrate that I have been spending the Queen's money wisely and actually training a Cadet Squadron. Due to some glitches in the training plan we ended up with only 4 nights to practice. And the cadets haven't had a lot of practice marching. Then just as we're getting on the bus for last weekend's trip, my SWO (Squadron Warrant Officer -i.e. the parade commander) hobbles up on crutches to tell me that he has injured his knee in school and can't do drill. So the next candidate now has one night to learn the position and his replacement also only has one night!

Lesser men would throw up their hands in dismay. Or maybe just throw up. But Per Ardua Ad Astra as they say.

It's the Big Day. The cadets have practiced and are breaking to touch up boots and have some lunch. I put on my tunic and go to move my car so the General has a parking spot (there are only 4 parking spaces in front of our Victorian era Armoury). I step out the door and there's the Brigadier General resplendent in red tabbed glory with his Divisional Sergeant Major looking down the street to see where the restaurant is. Fortunately it's only a block away.

"I see you've found a parking space, sir" I say, throwing him a 'Big Five'.

But the General and his Sergeant Major are both thoroughly alright chaps and put me at ease. So my next major hurdles are the small talk and not getting my croque monsieur all over my tunic. Fortunately I was paying attention during napkins class.

After lunch the Cadets impressed all with a fine turnout. The General was quite game to pose for photos and spent quite some time talking to a Flight Corporal at the field craft display. He even told me a funny story about one of my predecessors. I offered to buy them a beer after the parade, but they needed to stop at the chocolatier across the street and be home for dinner. Even Brigadier Generals and Divisional Sergeant Majors​ have orders.

Presenting the Top Senior NCO Award

In Which Capt Rabbitman Takes the Squadron to Look at the Things

Ah, the Squadron Year End trip.

As someone who's idea of a good time is to drink tea and paint miniatures, it fills me with dread. I have very little idea what young people would think was fun. Many units go to Cadet Day at Canada's Wonderland. Ugh. I dislike rides at the fair so the thought of a day of them with asphalt, sun and expensive, greasy food just gives me a headache.

Last year the previous command team took them to Toronto for a long weekend. I've seen the pictures, fun was had. So this year would traditionally be the  relatively low cost Wonderland day trip. But I wanted to do something cool. My very keen OCdt had the clever idea to go up to CFB Borden and visit 400 Tactical Helicopter Squadron and 16 Wing, the Canadian Forces School of Aerospace Technology and Engineering (CFSATE).

There was even a slim chance of getting up in a CH-146 Griffon too, so I said "hell yeah, let's do that!"

400 THS is a Heavy Maintenance Squadron doing all of the 300 and 600 hour inspections, overhauls, rebuilds and maintenance on the RCAFs fleet of Griffon helicopters. So we toured the shops and the big hanger with about 7 helicopters in various states of dismemberment.

Here MCpl Pigeon, an AVN Tech explains how the engines work:

This helicopter was finished so the cadets weren't allowed to touch the controls, but the MCpl is pointing things out to them.

We also learned that, yes, there are in fact $1000.00 bolts. The actual precision piece of high quality steel costs $50.00. The other $950.00 is all the inspections (x-ray etc.) to make sure their aren't any micro-fractures or other invisible flaws that would cause a helicopter to fall out of the sky. Because when you've only got one nut holding things together, it has to be perfect.

After lunch we toured 16 Wing, the Canadian Forces School of Aerospace Technology and Engineering. After the 4 Technicians (AVC-air frame construction, AVN-avionics, AVS-aviation systems, AWS-air weapons) and the AERE (Aerospace Engineer) Officer each explained their trades, we toured the hanger full of cool training aides that the students practice on.

Of course everyone got a chance to sit in the cockpit of the decommissioned F-18 fighter. It was hard not to make airplane noises.

The AWS Tech, an enthusiastic young lady, got to show us her weapons systems and since she is also an EOD tech, we got to try on the bomb suit. Some of the cadets tried to do push ups in them (one young man broke their record of 45!). I didn't try. I felt like a Medieval knight being armed by his page, since these get ups require help to put on and take off..

Missiles

Discussing the 20mm rotary cannon

500 lb. bomb

Group shot

Everything else over the weekend was pretty flexible and to blow off some steam we took them to the Confidence Course. The young lady in the pink got stuck her first time over this obstacle but the next morning when we had some time to kill, she asked to go back and do it again, so we did. And she went over it several times again. Small moments like this keep me motivated.

Another amusing story. CFB Borden, being the birthplace of the Royal Canadian Armoured Corps, has the Worthington Tank Museum. We had some time to kill so we go look at the tank park.

Cadet: "Sir! Can we go look at the T-34/85?"

Me: "Sure, why?" (Amazed that he knew what it was)

Cadet: "My grandfather commanded one in the Battle of Berlin."

Me: "Wow!"

Grandfather served from the Battle of Moscow in '41 until the Battle of Berlin. Then got sent East to fight Japan but was invalided out with an injury.

We stayed in the same quarters I used on my courses and ate in the same Mess, so the cadets were always learning new things from Friday night when the senior cadets demonstrated how to make their beds, getting breakfast and right up to cleaning their quarters (we had a kind of bitchy Leading Seaman as Duty NCM) before we went home. Between a taste of life in garrison and touring the CFSATE they got a good look at what life would be like if they joined the RCAF later.

So year end trip turned into a training weekend in disguise, and I was spared a day of headaches at an amusement park.