Kid Soldier

by Jennifer Maruno

  The shouting call, “All troops derail,” echoed along the lines inside the Halifax railroad shed followed by the din of men’s voices. Richard grabbed his kit bag and stepped onto the platform. The orders “fall in” caused the tunnelled area to fill with the sound of shuffling feet. The yelled command, “Quick march,” brought all footsteps in unison.

  Stepping through the foggy morning air, Richard stopped to crane his neck to see how far the Empress of Britain, the ship he was about to board, rose into the clouds.

  “Hey kid,” a voice yelled out from behind. “You gonna spend all day gawking, or get yourself going?”

  The gangways leading from the dock to the ships crawled with troops. When Richard reached the top, he felt the rise and fall of the sea beneath his feet. A ship’s officer handed him a destination card. Holding it in his teeth, he joined the others at the rail.

  With no bands, no flags, and no cheering crowds gathered to watch, the first of Canada’s fighting forces set their course into the grey mist. The powerful escort of cruisers, destroyers, and submarines moved out of the harbour one by one. The most heavily armed units of the navy had the job of guarding the five slate-grey ships in the North Atlantic.

  Richard wound his way through the ship, stopping to stare in the doorways of the stateroom, ballroom, bar rooms, and lounges. Within the polished wood-panelled walls of the dining room were round tables set for eight that sparkled with crystal stemware and silver cutlery. He thought of how impressed his mother would be with the starched white tablecloths and folded linen napkins. Richard decided this must be where the officers ate.

  After clambering down several sets of stairs to the lower deck, Richard checked his card one more time and found his cabin. As he tossed his gear beside one of the twin beds, the sound of a flushing toilet made him turn.

  “Hello there,” a tall young man with brown hair called out when he emerged. He wore a long-sleeved collarless jersey over a pair of khaki trousers. “There’s no porthole. It looks like we’re on one of the inner decks.” He finished wiping the shaving cream from his face and turned to toss the snow-white towel into the sink. A Pocket Book Company novel stuck out of his back pocket. He looked more like a student than a soldier.

  “My name is Jack,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Jack Gill, from St. Catharines.”

  A broad grin spread across Richard’s face. Shaking Jack’s hand with vigour, he replied, “Close to my home town, Niagara Falls. My name’s Richard Fuller.”

  “Hah,” Jack said, putting his hands on his hips. “Looks like they’ve put us fruit pickers together.” He surveyed Richard from top to toe. “How come I haven’t seen you before?”

  “I’ve been in Barriefield,” Richard told him, removing his cap.

  “Ahh,” Jack said. “I’m bunking with a ‘sig.’” He tossed the towel on to his bed. “I won’t hold that against you. Come on and meet the rest of the battery.”

  Jack poked his head into each of the rooms to introduce his bunkmate.

  “Get inside and close the door,” a man in the last room ordered. “We’re starting a game.”

  Here, the bedside lamps were on the floor and the side tables between the beds. Two men sat facing piles of nickels, dimes, and quarters.

  “Nickel a game,” said the other man. “You in?”

  “Is everything to your satisfaction?” a steward bellowed as he hammered on the door.

  “Nah,” the man shuffling the deck of cards yelled. “The crew bangs on the doors.”

  Jack smiled at his heavy sarcasm. “You know those guys are going to make our beds,” he said as he pulled up a chair and sat on it backwards. “This is how fancy people travel to Europe.”

  “That’s because they haven’t converted these babies to warships yet,” the card dealer said. “All they’ve done is paint out the identification marks.”

  The sleek looking man with dark hair curling out through his open shirt had black oval eyes and hooded lids. “My name’s Billington,” he said to Richard. “Ted Billington.”

  Jack jerked his thumb at the man next to him “This is Charlie McAllister, but he goes by his nickname, Swipes.”

  The six-foot man, shrivelled by sun and tobacco, gave Richard a crooked smile. His red-rimmed watery eyes sat above a long bony nose. His long limbs and ginger hair reminded Richard of one of Mr. Vogel’s rusted rakes.

  Swipes tapped the side of his nose. “If you ever need anything,” he said, “just ask. I specialize in knowing helpful people.” He folded a stick of gum into his mouth and smiled.

  “I guess this is a once in a lifetime trip,” Richard said, leaning against the wall to watch.

  “Enjoy it,” Ted told them all. “It’s not every day we rankers get to travel like officers.”

  Richard watched Ted sort his cards into order. “I think I’ll say goodbye to the shore,” he said, moving towards the door.

  “Don’t get lost,” Jack called out behind him.

  Before the door latch caught, Richard overheard their comments.

  “Maybe we should have asked him to play Parcheesi.”

  “When did they start signing up kids?”

  “He came up from signal camp,” Jack said. “He wouldn’t have been there if he wasn’t old enough.”

  Richard slipped past the blackout door on to the deck. He leaned on the rail watching the last bits of land disappear as the other great ships surged alongside. He was on his way.

  —

  “Every soldier is allowed a certain number of days leave during the course of a year,” the battery commander told them the night of their first lecture in the ship’s lounge. “A railway warrant is issued for travel every six months. But it’s not for sale. If caught at this game, you can expect trouble.”

  Richard raised his brows. What kind of soldier would do that?

  “While on board,” the major thundered, “you don’t have to salute every time you see the same officer.” He paced up and down the aisles of folding chairs speaking in a clipped voice. “Pay your respects in the morning and when you go off duty.”

  Ted leaned across Richard and said to Swipes, “We may forget how.”

  Jack had to cover his mouth with his hand to suppress laughter.

  The major shot the four of them a look.

  After the lecture, they walked to the dining room where each table held a stack of bingo cards and a bucket of paper squares. Ted and Swipes, preferring card games in their own cabin, left. A sing-along, led by an auxiliary services officer, followed the game of bingo.

  “Don’t know about you,” Jack said, as they headed back to their cabin. “If I have to hear ‘Home on the Range’ every night, I’ll look forward to hearing a discouraging word.”

  —

  Jack’s mutterings while he put on his boots the next morning woke Richard. “At least there’s only one general parade,” he said.

  Richard smiled as he remembered Amy’s reaction to the word “parade” when he’d told her about summer camp. “How exciting,” she’d said, clapping her hands. “Last time I saw a parade was on Dominion Day, but there were only a couple of floats and no elephants at all.”

  “It’s not that kind of parade,” he’d explained. “That’s the word for inspection.”

  Jack continued their conversation. “Duties on a ship should belong to the navy.”

  “Tell that to the sergeant major,” Richard said, sitting up. “What did you pull?”

  “It’s not so bad,” Jack confessed. “I’m not peeling spuds or washing pots,” he said as he combed his hair and straightened his shirt. “Two hours in the canteen, probably counting chocolate bars.”

  The army posted weekly orders detailing the duties. No one escaped. Richard remembered Mr. Black’s advice. “The sergeant major just loves giving out extra duties. Show up, do your best, and leave. Never look idle or they’ll find something else for you to do. If you squawk you get extra. If you complain about extra duty you get even more.”

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p; Richard ripped back his bed covers and hopped out of bed. He had pulled the same two duties every day. He was to sweep the passageway and act as spare signaller on the bridge.

  In the dining room a gold menu with a tasselled cord down the middle listed the courses to be served for breakfast. Jugs of orange juice and carafes of coffee waited for the soldiers on tables set with silverware and china. The waiters, in starched white jackets and spotless gloves, lifted silver covers to reveal crisp bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and slices of toast.

  After breakfast, Richard reported to the bridge.

  “Name’s Willie,” the tough little sailor said, sticking out his hand. He smelled of wet wool and liniment. Rimless glasses sat slightly below his beady brown eyes.

  Richard shook his hand. “I’m Richard.”

  “They call me a Liver-Puddlian,” Willie said. “Where do you hail from?”

  “Well,” Richard said with a smile. “I guess I’m a kind of ‘puddlian’ too. I come from Niagara Falls. Ever heard of it?”

  The man threw back his head and roared with laughter. “That’s some puddle alright.”

  He held out a clipboard with a pen attached by a piece of wire. “Messages are sent from one ship to another by lamp in Morse code,” Willie explained. “You’re to write as I read.” His eyes raked Richard from top to toe. “You sure you know how to do this?”

  Richard ignored the question, having heard it so often before, and took the clipboard. “Good enough to give you some time off,” he said. He knew the idea of getting a break would appeal to the seasoned sailor. Richard watched the old guy’s mouth twitch at the corners when he said, “That was part four of my training.”

  Willie’s features crinkled into a wry smile. He took a small, flat silver case from his pocket and with stained yellow fingers extracted a cigarette. “There’s the metal key,” he indicated with a slant of his head. Then he smiled as he left Richard watching the water.

  Chapter 11

  Lord Haw-Haw

  Since there was no room for route marches, after duty the soldiers had the rest of their time free to do as they pleased. Richard spent most of his time on the bridge with Willie. On occasion, Jack joined them.

  “How many ships are there in this convoy?” Jack asked.

  “Empress of Australia, Monarch of Bermuda, Aquitaine, and Duchess of Bedford are all carrying troops,” Willie answered. “The Resolution and the other destroyers are just along for the ride.”

  “They’re most likely looking for U-boats,” Jack said with a grimace as Willie moved to the grey metal wall of dials and knobs. The stuttering of the wireless band crackled into the room.

  “What are you putting on?” Richard asked.

  “Sometimes we get music on a foreign broadcast,” Willie replied.

  To Richard’s and Jack’s surprise, the clear sounds of an aristocratic English announcer came through. As he spoke, Richard could picture a man with a long nose, wearing a monocle over one eye and a gardenia in his buttonhole.

  “Germany calling, Germany calling from Hamburg on Brennen and DBX on the 31 meter shortwave band,” the Englishman said.

  “What did that guy just say?” Richard asked as he stepped closer to the speaker. “He said something about Germany.”

  “You are about to hear the German news in English,” the elegant voice informed them.

  Richard and Jack sat down to listen.

  The radio voice spoke once again in an exaggerated English drawl. “Germany has solved problems the British have not yet started to tackle. Some day their unemployed men, women, boys, and girls will call their government to account.”

  “Who is this guy?” Richard asked. “He’s not supporting the Commonwealth.”

  “Some think it is either that traitor Norman Baillie-Stewart,” Willie told him, “or Dr. Helmut Hoffman. He used to lecture on Nazism in Scotland.” He turned up the dial. “Most Britons refer to him as Lord Haw-Haw.”

  “Lord Haw-Haw,” both Richard and Jack repeated in amazement.

  “It’s because he gives us all a good laugh.”

  “We are at war,” the voice informed them. “A war the British have brought about in the name of all those virtues which they have failed to practice. It is now time to speak openly of these hypocrisies which previously did not concern us.”

  “It’s nothing but Nazi propaganda,” Willie explained.

  “Here is the first news bulletin of the day,” voice said. “A German U-boat has sunk one of Britain’s largest merchant ships, the Empress of Britain.”

  “That’s us!” Richard said, leaping up from his chair.

  Jack grabbed the field glasses and ran to the window. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Don’t pay any attention,” Willie told them.

  “Britain, your naval prestige is being destroyed,” the upper-crust voice said. “We Germans command the seas.”

  “It won’t be the last of the false reports of the good old Empress,” Willie told them both. “According to the Germans, she’ll be sunk a dozen more times before this war is done.”

  Richard headed back to his cabin, took off his boots, and stretched out on the bed.

  —

  The quartermaster pushed open the cabin door and tossed Richard a letter. “First and last one I ever hand deliver,” he said with a smile. “It’s from the bag that came on board. There won’t be any more mail for a good while.”

  The postmark was from Niagara Falls. Richard recognized the large loopy letters. He flipped open his antler-

  handled pocket-knife, slit the envelope, and removed a sheet of creamy linen-like stationery.

  Dear Richard,

  How are you? I am writing to tell you about your mother.

  Richard’s heart stopped. What if … He looked about the room in panic. If the news was bad he had no way of getting back home. He made himself read on.

  She is the ONLY one on the street that has not joined the Ladies’ Auxiliary.

  Richard smiled. He had forgotten about Amy’s way of thinking. Everything was dramatic.

  It meets once a month at Mrs. Black’s house. Of course my mother got a headache just before it started and she stayed home. Mrs. Black served cookies and I poured tea. We learned how to wash the label off of our tin cans, put the top and the bottom lids inside, flatten it with our feet, and save it for collection. They also talked about raising money for our boys overseas. When I asked about the men, they laughed. This month we are knitting socks. I have to guess at your size because I am NOT GOING TO TALK TO YOUR MOTHER.

  Richard lifted his foot and appraised the toe of his sock. He’d be happy with a new pair.

  I heard Mrs. B. tell Mr. B. you left because he filled your head with army nonsense. Our third housekeeper quit and went to Toronto. My mother told me to put another ad in the paper for a new one. This time I’m going to say the person who takes the job gets to wear my mother’s fur coat once a week.

  Bye,

  Amy

  Richard folded the letter with a grin, but it soon faded. What if people at home heard that Haw-Haw broadcast? he thought.

  He hopped off the bed and padded down the hall to the card game. Jack was in the middle of imitating Lord Haw-Haw.

  “What about the people that think the reports are for real?” Richard asked.

  “Someone from the war office will pass word along that it’s false,” Ted said. “Although, there are a few women I know that wouldn’t regret the news.”

  “Left a few wives behind, did you?” Swipes teased.

  “More than a few,” Ted said with a smile.

  All Richard could think of was Mr. and Mrs. Black settling with their cup of tea in front of the radio at six o’clock. He prayed the McLaughlin radio crackled loudly that night and his mother had hers off as usual.

  Chapter 12

  Aldershot

  After several weeks at sea, finally skirting Greenland, the Canadian troops looked forward to setting foot on dry land before the en
d of the year. Richard watched the great ocean liners crowd into the British harbour from the ship’s bridge.

  “So where exactly are we?” Jack asked, coming to his side.

  “We cast anchor off Gourock in the Firth of Clyde,” Richard answered. He had asked Willie that very question as he watched him cross off the number seventeen on his December calendar on the back of the door.

  “The fifth of Clyde?” Jack asked. “They got a different kind of calendar over here?”

  “Firth,” Richard corrected, “is another word for river.”

  Thousands of people waited on the platform to greet them as their train pulled into the Glasgow Station. Jack caught a small packet tossed from the crowd. “They’re throwing us food,” he said with a grin. “I just caught a sandwich.”

  “Let’s throw them something back,” Richard said. He pulled out his pocket change and threw his Canadian coins into the cheering crowd. Soon the rest were doing the same.

  “Big commotion over nothing,” Ted said. “This thing will be over in a year.”

  “Next stop, Aldershot,” roared the voices of the commanding officers down the line.

  “Would you look at the size of that train?” Jack yelled above the din when the tiny London and South West Railway engine pulled into the station. Its whistle sounded like the screech of an angry cat.

  “I’ve seen bigger ones going around a Christmas tree,” Swipes said, making them laugh.

  With packs on backs, ammunition pouches across the front, haversacks on the right, and water bottle and bayonet on the left, only eight men could squeeze into a tiny carriage.

  As they passed the miles of tilled farmland, the old inns and countryside homes fascinated Richard, but not the others. All they wanted to do was play cards. Within hours they pulled to a stop along a siding. Tins of corned beef and hard biscuits made their way through the train.