While this is story of a chance encounter, by two random travelers facing the common elements, I must first digress and provide the background for the events that transpired.

 So, let us first wind back to that summer of 1976, when we found ourselves at Borden undergoing Basic Officer Training, where we were first introduced to marching….wait, we had just spent the centennial year marching in parades all over Ontario, including marching in the dirt and cow paddies of the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair…the BOTC drill staff gave up after two sessions on the parade square when they found we could actually do more massed drill manoeuvres than they even knew -- such as forming on the march while advancing in review order.  They directed no further drill until grad parade. 

 Let us not forget learning how to properly prepare for room and kit inspections … wait, we had just finished recruit camp at RMC, and survived the entire first year of inspections…again the staff lost heart in doing the white glove inspections on our perfect rooms after the first week, so they gave us the weekends off and directed no further room and kit inspections.  The course was to focus on leadership training for the duration.

This brings us to the first important anecdote for this story: I was on one of the long field exercises, and for once it had been raining for the duration, a cold steady rain that slowly runs off your helmet and drips down your back.  I was crouched over in the near completely absent lee of a tiny leafless tree, soggy and chilled, waiting for this entire undertaking to finally be over, when up splashed a pair of shiny combat boots which halted in front of me, just visible under the rim of my helmet.  I slowly looked up to see the owner of these boots, and immediately recognized our very own, immaculately turned out, “Warrrrrant Scott” (pronounced with a distinct roll of the “R” in the truest of Scottish brogues).  He looks down at my pitiful, wraith-like appearance and says “Miiisterrr Davies, dooooooon’t yuu know that ANY fool can be UNcomfortable!”  (italics and underline for emphasis, exactly as delivered).  Well, that line has served me well throughout the remainder of my life!

Okay, so on to the snowy afternoon….  The entire Kingston area had been hit by one of those infrequent, but devastating snowstorms that happen in early winter when the lake is not frozen, and a South-West wind whips up the moist air off the lake and dumps feet of snow on Kingston.  You will likely recall, since we had some storms where the college was too slow to close up, and the staff had to stay on the grounds, even the serving ladies (!) from the mess hall!  Now as a second year, we had the privilege of having civilian clothes, but not the right to wear them off the college grounds.  In the face of the ongoing natural disaster, and the complete cessation of any normal college functions, I saw an opportunity: I would pull out my long-hidden winter gear, suit up for extremes, and head out into the maelstrom to see what I could see! 

 How exciting, both the challenge of facing the elements, and the forbidden thrill of sneaking out in civilian attire!  All went well as I got fully prepared and snuck out the small basement door on the North side of Fort Lasalle, directly across from Route 66 to Massey library.  As I waded through the snow towards the small gate house, out of the blinding white billows of snow, who should appear but our very own College Sergeant-Major Cox!  Oh god, busted before I even get off the grounds … or was I?  He fell in step with me, or rather started wallowing through the drifts with me.  Conversation was nil, as we tried to keep our mouths from filling with blown snow.  CSM Cox was walking to his home, the other stone gate house right beside the Arch, so we had quite a ways to walk together.

 After a time, I realized that he was actually doing all this wading and walking in his DRESS SHOES!  At about the same time, clearly focused on his cold and wet feet, he noticed that I was wearing those big rubber galoshes that zip up over one’s shoes (warm but uglies!), to keep your feet warm and dry.  He then says to me “Hummph, you must be one of those Air Force officers!”   At that point my BOTC training jumped to the front, and to my lips came the infamous words of Warrrrant Scott: “DON’T YOU KNOW THAT ANY FOOL CAN BE UNCOMFORTABLE”!! 

To my lasting surprise, it turned out that I had already acquired the judgment to keep my mouth shut, so I missed the opportunity to pass on those helpful words of wisdom, and we parted ways in wintry silence