During our era, military college recruits were loaded onto the BOTC (Basic Officer Training Course) after completing first-year college. Thus a couple of weeks following the college graduation parade, we all arrived in Borden Ontario for the 12-week course. It was during this course that Jim Manton and I became fast friends. We ended teaming up during a number of events ... including the escape-and-evasion, base defence force, and insurgency exercises ... each one involving plenty of humour and some notoriety! It was also during this time that I taught myself guitar. Back in Victoria, I woke up one Saturday morning with a guitar at the foot of my bed and a $76 receipt on the floor. Apparently while at a downtown bar the previous evening, I had complained that one cannot carry a piano around ... and so promptly proceeded into a nearby department store to buy a guitar! My poor roommate during BOTC ... Richard Greenwood ... had to endure my painful efforts at self-learning . But by the end of the course, I had mastered six or seven chords and could strum with reasonable proficiency!

So some stories ... first the base defence force exercise which occurred during the second or third week of the course. We were set up in a cordon to protect some structure from protestors ... the same sort of thing you see police do during riots etc. The demonstrators in this case were off-duty military personnel and their partners ... mostly wives and/or girlfriends. They were pretty good ... waving placards, hurling insults, eggs, shaving cream ... I even got hit with potato salad! Anyway, one of the ‘strict’ rules we were taught was not let anyone get a hold of you or your equipment. So there we were in this tight-line ‘stand-to’ formation (our rifles angled out in front of us) getting pelted, when this woman attempts to grab my gun barrel. So I sharply pulled my rifle back and she screams out in pain ... the palm of her hand sliced open by a wire wrapped around the end of my barrel. This was quickly followed by Jim Manton, who was displaced a couple of positions away from me. For some reason one of the male protestors started singling him out from the others, and was starting to give Jim a hard time ... really getting close and personal. Long story short, Jim ended up butt-stroking the dude in the chest. In an instant the protest lost its ‘fight’, much to the consternation of our instructors. The exercise was terminated shortly thereafter. Both Jim and I were called up in front of the Squadron Commander, but I do not think either of us received any punishment per se ... just a stern lecture.

Next up ... the escape & evasion exercise. We had heard rumours about this scenario even before we got to Borden ... about how nasty the treatment was if one got caught and thrown into the POW camp. I had also found out that it would begin without warning ... i.e. it not specifically detailed in the course training plan given to us ... and that we would be strip-searched before beginning the exercise. So when we received our combat clothing at course start, I immediately began to look for a way to conceal some money so that it could not be found. Finally I hit upon an idea. Our combat boots were double-lined, having an inner leather lining in addition to the regular outer covering. So I cut a small slit in the inner liner as far up the toe as I could reach, then folded a $20 bill into the size of a postage stamp, wrapped it in plastic and inserted it into the slit. The alteration could not be seen from the outside ... and one would have to stretch the hand far into the boot to notice anything unusual. I did not relate this to anyone ... not even my roommate nor Jim ... for fear of my deception leaking out. Anyway sure enough ... I believe in the fifth week ... we were rudely interrupted one evening, ordered to dress in our combats, and then form up on the parade square. There, surrounded by military police and the like, we were herded in small groups into a building and strip-searched ... all the while having to endure verbal and even some physical abuse . After re-donning our combats , we were marched onto buses. As the bus commenced to roll, one of the instructors began to recite the mission briefing  SMEAC . It went something like this: We were soon-to-be escaped prisoners (dropped off from the bus). If we wanted to retain our freedom, we would have to cross the finishing line within two days without being captured. We were not to accept ... nor use ... any outside help . As he was talking, we were each handed a small-scale map of the exercise area. If I remember correctly, our start line was along Route 13 westward from Wiarton ... the finish line the diagonal across Bruce Peninsula just north of Miller Lake ... a distance of some 40+ kilometers. When the briefing was finished, our escorts (guards!) came around and put pillowcases over our heads, and silence was henceforth strictly enforced. I do not remember exactly when, but Jim and I had somehow already conveyed to each other that we would try to join up after being released ... but that would not be easy to accomplish with us sitting on the bus in silence and blind-folded ... and with Jim being seated on the other side of the aisle a couple of rows ahead of me. Anyway, after a good hour and a half of movement and us sitting there in silence, the bus stopped, and the first cadets were removed. Thereafter the bus came to a halt every 30 seconds or so and the next pair ‘thrown off’. I listened intently as the bus began to empty from the front. Jim made some kind of noise ... a cough or something like that ... when he was removed. I was then released three stops later ... so probably some 500-600 meters ahead. I cannot remember who was dropped off with me, but he did not want to back-track the route, so we parted ways right then and there. It was pretty dark ... overcast and not much of a moon that night ... as I began to jog eastwards, hoping Jim would be heading west. I stayed on the main road as I did not think they would be hunting us anytime soon, being still occupied with discharging the remaining prisoners. It did not take long for us to meet ... after passing a couple of other prisoners, Jim and I almost ran into each other in the darkness. Jim’s drop-off partner had stayed with him ... a Quebecois CMR cadet whose name I believe was André Matteau . So the three of us set off westwards, then northwards along the first dirt track we found. Being so dark it was not easy-going even when on a road, but I think we made reasonable headway nonetheless. That being stated, our first priority ... our only priority ... was not to get caught  to hell with the finish line!

We must have been trekking for three or four hours before deciding to take an extended break ... and got off the track some 30 meters into the woods. There we lay down and tried to get in a snooze, but the mosquitos and flies were incessant. And then it started to rain. So off again, now soaking wet! We had been mostly zigzagging ... the rural roads here spaced roughly one mile apart in fairly dense forest ... no real structures or homes to be seen, but every so often a pond or small lake. With dawn now quickly approaching, we knew that if we stayed on the road the chances of being caught would increase dramatically. Thus as it became light enough to see features at a distance, we decided to get off the road. With a myriad of snowmobiling trails crisscrossing all over the place, we picked one and entered into the woodlands. We did this for the remainder of the day ... real tough going sometimes ... but fairly certain we were safe this far back in the woods. I remember early on us following this trail for what must have been a good hour ... then coming onto a dirt road ... only to discover that it was same road we had left some 3 to 4 hundred meters further back! Anyway, we were careful when approaching / crossing vehicle roads ... always surveying the area before exposing ourselves in the open, and then racing across to regain cover.

Of course hunger was by now setting in ... we would have foraged, begged, borrowed, or stolen food had any become available ... but none did. Despite the lack of detail on the maps that were given to us, we had a pretty good idea where we were ... and by late afternoon risked approaching a built-up area to see if we could find some sustenance. We cut over towards the village of Pike Bay and soon caught glimpse of a mom/pop grocery store along the lake shore. After surveying the area for around 15 minutes from behind a beach berm, I was ready to risk exposure and ventured out, with the $20 bill in hand that had been retrieved from my boot liner. I entered the store trying to appear as normal as possible despite wearing wet combats. The citizens of the region had of course been informed of our exercise, and the cashier behind the counter looked at me with a knowing glance ... and as she rang up the purchases, she casually mentioned that a roadblock / observation post had been set up a couple of hours ago on the road just up ahead (to the north). I thanked her as I exited and hurried back to the berm. The store did not have much selection ... but I did come out with a loaf of bread, a large block of cheddar cheese, bags of chips, chocolate bars, and some pop. We did not wait ... we wolfed everything down within minutes ... right there on the beach! Sated for the time being, we rested for a short period before heading back east into the forest, staying well clear and circumventing the area mentioned by the cashier. I guess we continued for another two or three hours ... into the early evening ... but by then we were exhausted and making little headway. Looking around for a place to bed-down for the night, it was fortuitous chance that we stumbled upon a run-down barn set in the middle of a small wilderness clearing. The barn had obviously been abandoned years ago, for the piles of hay in the loft had moulded into greenish mats ... but it was still soft, and there were far less mosquitos up there than on the ground. I think all three of us fell asleep within minutes of lying down ... no, we did not take turns standing guard! I was woken up once that night by an owl not four meters away from me when it began hooting. But other than that, it was a fairly comfortable sleep. However, I got something of a surprise the next morning ... waking up at dawn, I glanced up and not more than a metre above my head were four small bats looking down at me, hanging from a rafter crossbeam ... HA!

You will note that as one moves up Bruce Peninsula it gets narrower ... and also more open in places  the ability to remain concealed became increasingly more difficult. Of course the opposing force knew this ... knew the area much better than we did ... and so simply had to wait at strategic viewpoints to catch prisoners on the run. At around 0830 hrs that morning, we arrived out of the bush to the edge of a cross-road. Beyond the road was a shallow valley extending close to a kilometer up to a low ridge on the other side ... to the left and right mostly open fields and pasture. It was an obvious trap, so we held fast and scanned the surroundings for well over 30 minutes  nothing moved. So with reluctance we stood up and began running on a dirt lane across the expanse at full speed. We must have caught them napping! For Jim and I had reached the other side and were about a 100 meters into the woodlands before a jeep came screaming up the lane from behind. In an instant I bolted left and began crashing through the bush perpendicular to the road, ignoring distant calls demanding surrender. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Jim had done the exact same thing, though to the right . I ran as hard as I could for 10-15 minutes ... not stopping once to check if I was being followed. Finally I stopped ... breathing heavy and sweating profusely, covered in grime and small nicks here-and-there ... listening for any noise or movement behind me ... none. Finally recovered, I assessed my now-alone situation. It was around 1000 hrs. in the morning ... still about 5 to 6 kilometers to go to the finish line ... which was supposed to be reached by 1300 hrs. Yah, easily accomplished if passage is unrestricted ... but I certainly was not going to risk exposure again and get caught. With my mind now definitely made up ... time (not being captured) more important than distance (finish line) ... I slowly set out again in a northward direction. However this time I would stop ... even in the dense woodland ... every 10-20 meters to scan and listen. I maintained this cautious rhythm for the remaining three hours. I risked crossing only one further regular road ... both shoulders flanked by thick brush at that spot. At some point I came across a sloped clearing in the forest ... and there in full sunshine was a welcome sight ... a large patch of wild raspberries with ripe fruit weighing down the branches. I am not a particular fan of raspberries, but here I took my time and ate a belly full ... it was good!

I waited until 1310 hrs (i.e. 10 minutes beyond exercise expiry time) before leaving protective cover and emerging onto a road. I continued to walk in a northerly direction, but at a leisurely pace for I was still at least three kilometers away from the stated finish line. It did not take long for an army truck to pull up in front of me, the driver shouting ‘halt, you are captured’. For a brief moment fear griped me ... did they lie about the stop time? I reluctantly climbed into the back ... there were three other cadets already seated ... but it soon became clear that the exercise was over, and as such I relaxed. When we arrived at the makeshift POW camp, they were already beginning to disassemble the tents etc. However, some of the prisoners were still chain-shackled to posts dug into a field, covers over their heads ... a scene still etched in my mind!

The POW stories that emerged afterwards reinforced my angst at being captured. There were strip-searches in front of female interrogators, being hosed-down with cold water, made to stand knee-deep in mud, chain-shackled throughout the night exposed to the elements etc. Then there were the other stories: One of our RRMC classmates ... Ted Dillenberg, a long-distance runner ... started running as soon as he left the bus. He arrived at the finish line the next morning before the instructors had even finished setting-up the POW camp! Then there were a couple of other cadets that had grown up ... or had relatives ... in the vicinity  they of course had an easy time of it over the two days. One lucky cadet even spent the following day down in Toronto before being driven back and secretly dropped-off at the finish line. More power to them HA!

So a final BOTC story. The last field exercise of the course was an insurgency scenario where we had to protect facilities from infiltration and sabotage. We had just arrived back at Borden via a long forced march, which had been preceded by some kind of live-fire exercise at the Medford range. We were all dead-tired but had to immediately set up defences around a number of sites. One of these was the officer’s transient quarters located somewhat removed from the core defensive area  and Jim and I were assigned to protect it ... someone failing miserably in not separating us! Anyway, we got there early morning. It was a squat 2-storey brick building. There was a hedge located on one side in which we initially set up our post, but it did not provide much concealment. The ground-floor doors were all locked, but we noted a second floor patio of some type ... and I managed to get onto it by climbing up a gutter pipe. The deck was partially covered and had a brick hip wall, perfect to hide behind! And the view covered all the likely ‘enemy’ approaches along the backside of the building. Facing the patio was a glass sliding door ... and it was unlocked! I went inside ... it was the ‘common room’, with fridge, stove, sink, tv, pool table etc. ... The fridge was even stocked with beer and wine, perfect for an extended security detail HA! I know what you are thinking ... but no we did not indulge, and we did not venture into the other areas excepting to leave the building via a ground-floor exit. We set up an observation post behind the patio hip wall ... one of us keeping an eye out from there, while the other would make an occasional patrol on the grounds and/or rest in the common room. This was our routine all morning ... all quiet as if our site had been forgotten by the enemy . There wasn’t any food in the fridge, and we did not have much with us, so by noon we were both getting very hungry. As I was conducting another foot patrol around the building, I noted one of the CMR cadets from the sister course walking along the street and waved him over. They had already completed the exercise a couple of days previously and so were already dismissed for their leave break. We talked for a few minutes ... and finding out his itinerary, Jim and I asked him to stop off in Angus on his way out and order us a pizza to be delivered. Things remained quiet for the next hour or so, and thus we thought our friend had forgotten us. But as I was making another round of the building perimeter I heard and then saw a scooter in the distance coming up the road, with the distinctive ‘pizza delivery’ box strapped onto the back. At that exact moment, I heard Jim yell ‘stand-to’ on the radio and then a couple of heartbeats later, shots starting to ring out. I scurried into the hedge, crawled around the corner, and saw the three intruders as they began to move across the short span of lawn towards the building. I started firing as well, but they kept on coming ... until I guess they finally figured out where Jim and I were located. The three then scurried back to bush cover and continued to shoot and yell. Meanwhile, the delivery guy was walking up to the main entrance with our pizza. I crawled to the building corner and yelled out ... therein he sauntered over to my location behind the hedge, where I duly paid him (with a good tip!) and took possession of our pizza. Then just as I radioed Jim that I got the pizza, the three insurgents decided on an all-out frontal attack again. As far as I was concerned, they were already dead long ago  Jim ... hidden from view ... having picked them off during their initial charge. So fed-up with this silliness, I just stood up and started shooting ... yelling “you are all dead!” They continued their advance yelling back until one of them was essentially face-to-face with me. At that point they stopped, and Jim was ordered to come down. The insurgent leader ... a Staff Sergeant I believe ... then tried to chastise us by indicating that we were not to go into buildings ... we countered by stating we got onto the balcony from the outside. He then turned to me and critiqued my cover position during the second assault. I countered by indicating that he and his two accomplices were already dead after the first attempt ... the Staff Sergeant did not have a very good response to that observation. Anyway, we were then told to gather our equipment and head back to the muster station. The three then left. However before Jim and I returned, we leisurely sat on the lawn and enjoyed our pizza! Thereafter I was somewhat surprised that we did not get called up … again … in front of the squadron commander for this ‘episode’ ... the Staff Sergeant must have been satisfied with our defensive resourcefulness, and turned a blind eye at our pizza. These are my main memories of Borden … along with trying to learn the guitar  to Richard Greenwood – sorry again !!!

… a quick follow-up. The friendship established between Jim and me at BOTC was further cemented upon our return to RRMC. Normally second-year cadets get a room to themselves. For some reason space was pretty tight in our flight during the early part of second year . So after I completed my stint as first-slate CSSO, Jim Manton and I agreed to move in together ... into room 310. It was larger than the standard room and located at the end of the flight hall. As such we were in the flight neighbourhood but somewhat removed from the daily action and routine, and thus able to do more of our own thing. The room quickly filled up with engine parts (including an engine block!), guitars, miscellaneous sports equipment, a large wood-carved cuckoo clock, and even a slot-car racing set! We weren’t very good with our guitars, but Jim and I spent quite a few hours fooling around and recording some of our ‘adventures’ onto cassette. We also spent a considerable amount of time at a large gravel pit located about five kilometers away ... working on our vehicles and racing each other. Our co-habitation lasted until Jim was awarded third-slate CSSO.

Below – in front of the cadet mess before the start of the college pub rally. I was the driver, Jim the drinker ... seven different pubs. We figured to have an advantage with the canopy down on my MGB ... Jim could save time by jumping in and out over the door. However, by the 4th pub, Jim’s jumping didn’t quite go as envisioned HA! We never came close to winning ... but we sure had fun!