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A SORRY SAGA IN THE CANADIAN MILITARY

Courtesy of the Liberal Government of

Lester Pearson and PE Trudeau

Mid 1960s – late 1970s

All the world is aware of the often-used, incorrect-grammar expression, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!”

Yet, in Ottawa, Canada, in the middle days of 1960s, the Liberal government of Prime Minister Lester B Pearson decided to fix what wasn’t broken. Leading the charge to correct a perceived wrong were Defence Minister Paul Hellyer and Associate Minister of Defence Lucien Cardin, who tabled a white paper in Parliament of Canada on 26 March 1964.

The white paper outlined a major restructuring of the separate armed forces – army, navy and air force – that envisioned a reorganisation that would include the integration of operations, logistics support, personnel, and administration of the separate branches under a functional command system. 1

History has recorded that the proposal met with stiff opposition from personnel in each of the three services. As a consequence, the Royal Canadian Navy’s senior operational commander, Rear Admiral William Landymore was dismissed as well as the forced retirement of other senior officers in Canada’s military. A well-used and readily-understood RCN expression ‘The rot has set in,” seemed appropriate.

Unfortunately, the protests of military personnel and their supporters had no effect and on 1 February 1968, Bill C-243, the Canadian Forces Reoganisation Act, was granted Royal Assent and the Royal Canadian Navy, the Canadian Army and the Royal Canadian Air Force were combined into one service – the Canadian Armed Forces.

Within the newly-minted Canadian Armed Forces [CAF], much rancour amongst military personnel set in and the mood among the soldiers, sailors and airmen [female gender understood] was foul. The general public in the 1 Wikipedia, Unification of the Canadian Armed Forces

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meantime was fed a line that might best be described as tap-dancing around a hole all the while hoping not to fall in.

The public received doses of stuff that suggested, strongly, that the reorganisation would achieve cost savings and provide improved command, control, and integration of the military forces. 2

To back up that ‘stuff,’ Defence Minister Paul Hellyer, on 4 November 1966, announced that “the amalgamation … will provide the flexibility to enable Canada to meet in the most effective manner the military requirements of the future. It will also establish Canada as an unquestionable leader in the field of military organisation.” 3

Hellyer’s announcement was met with much derision by a large number of serving military personnel who expressed, sometimes rather vociferously, that “Hellyer didn’t know his arse from a hole in the ground!”

One backlash that the then-serving Liberal ministers did not anticipate was that “they were accused of not caring for the traditions behind each individual service, especially as the long-standing navy, army and air force identities were replaced with common army-style ranks and rifle green uniforms. Rather than loyalty to each service, which, as military historian Jack Granatstein put it, was ‘vital for sailors, soldiers, and airmen and women’ who ‘risk their lives to serve.’”4

Hellyer, who had joined the Royal Canadian Air Force as an enlisted man and then was mustered out and into the Canadian Army during World War Two, wanted “loyalty to the new, all-encompassing Canadian Armed Forces, this, it was said, caused damage to the spirit de corps for sailors, soldiers and air crew and personnel.” 5

What Hellyer got was derision – full blast!

Rather than correct what was clearly a mistake, Hellyer carried on with his destruction of Canada’s military and thus: “Army personnel and equipment were placed under an entity known as Mobile Command – later to be renamed Land Force Command; Navy personnel and ships 2 Wikipedia, Unification of the Canadian Armed Forces 3 Ibid 4 Ibid 5 Ibid

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were placed under Maritime Command and personnel of the former RCAF were divided between Mobile Command, Air Defence Command, Air Transport Command, and Training Command. In 1975, all aircraft of the CAF were placed under a new command known as Air Command.”6

The ‘rot’ that has been mentioned earlier, had set in, firmly; but the serving members’ bitterness and outward disgust with the integration/unification did not end there.

“The move toward unification, as well as other budget and cost-cutting moves during the 1980s and 1990s were opposed by many and is sometimes seen as a fault of the Canadian Forces. Many veterans objected to unification and sometimes referred to branches of their pre-unification titles.” 7

In the intervening years from then to present [January 2016], several additional changes in command structure occurred and as the Cold War gave way to lesser conflicts, so, too, did certain components of the Canadian Forces. For instance, the CF maintained two bases in Germany for more than 30 years during the aforementioned Cold War and they were closed in the early 1990s, and Canadian Forces Europe disbanded after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the reunification of Germany. Also, Material Command was disbanded during the 1980s, the Communications Command was disbanded during a mid-1990s reorganisation and Mobile Command was renamed Land Force Command.

On 16 August 2011, the three environmental commands of the Canadian Armed Forces were renamed to reflect the names of the original historical armed forces. Air Command was changed to the Royal Canadian Air Force; Maritime Command was changed to the Royal Canadian Navy and Land Force Command was changed to Canadian Army. The government made these changes to align Canada with other key Commonwealth countries whose militaries use the royal designation, and to indicate that it respected Canada’s military heritage. 8 6 Ibid 7 Ibid 8 Ibid

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It is worth noting that what began as a Liberal government attempt to create something different by following the route of bureaucratic bungling and political prattling was met with the near-constant roar of dissatisfaction from those who actually were tasked with carrying out the fiasco, coupled with a generous dose of common sense applied by those on the fringes, the ‘rot’ was, eventually, eradicated and replaced with solid, standard, well-understood and agreed-upon military terms and sailors were once again sailors and soldiers were again soldiers and airmen and women were once again, airmen and airwomen – each wearing proudly the uniforms of their respective service.

Thanks for all of this must be given, first, to the then-serving army, navy and air force personnel who individually kept up a near-constant barrage of comment against the Liberal foolishness. Aiding and abetting the move was the Conservative government, first of Prime Minister Mulroney and later by that of Prime Minister Harper who saw the error of Prime Ministers Pearson and Trudeau’s integration/unification programme, aided in their quest to ‘fix what ain’t broke,’ by Defence Minister Paul Hellyer and Associate Defence Minister Lucien Cardin, and acted accordingly.

Bravo Zulu 9to intelligent individuals who saw wrong and corrected what needed correcting.

9 Bravo Zulu – a naval signal that means ‘well done’ and is not sent without serious consideration – the recipient must have performed above the normal accepted standard and deserve the accolade. Those referenced above qualify, in spades.

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RUMBLINGS FROM WITHIN

Despite the various government announcements and the media reports that followed defence ministry press releases that extolled the benefits of integration/unification of the army, navy and air force that such was the start of better things for Canada’s military, few serving members above the rate of corporal or equivalent in the navy and air force saw much good in what Ottawa had decreed was the way of the future. The Canadian public was, in many respects, kept in the dark with respect to what was occurring in – to use a navy term – the lower deck.

Soon after the reorganisation began in earnest the rumblings of those who actually were the army, navy and air force began and soon swelled to a pitch that could not be discounted – even in and by Ottawa.

Inasmuch as Ottawa carried a big stick [metaphorically] and could at any moment hit any lower rate soldier or sailor or airman who spoke critically of the reorganisation, it was more difficult for the Minister of Defence and his cronies to ignore the increasingly higher pitch of disgust that was coming from high-ranking serving officers of each service. Chief among those was RADM William Landymore. His public comments soon came to the attention of Minister of Defence Paul Hellyer who saw the rear admiral’s outspoken dislike for unification as reason to fire the much-decorated, and much-experienced Royal Canadian Navy, World War Two hero ; and so, the RCN lost a valuable asset, so, too, did all of Canada. Naval officers of Landymore’s experience do not come along every day nor can one be picked up in the local discount store at low cost.

Another RCN officer of high rank also saw little to be pleased about with unification and he, too, spoke out. For that, we lift a page or two from The Thunder and the Sunshine by Jeffry V. Brock, Rear Admiral, RCN retired, former Vice Chief of Naval Staff in Ottawa.

“Twelve years later [following the enactment of the legislation authorising unification] during the campaign for the general election of May 1979, which resulted in the formation of a short-lived Conservative government under the Right Honourable Joe Clark, I received a series of telephone

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calls from Allan McKinnon who was running at the time in Victoria, BC. Although he would not admit it, it was obvious he had aspirations to be the minister of national Defence. As far as I was aware, McKinnon and I had never met, and have never met, but he approached me in the most friendly terms, seeking my advice about many matters pertaining to the management of the Defence Department. We had lengthy conversations and they must have been pretty costly because I was, at the time, still wintering in Florida. I had just been driven indoors by a sudden tropical storm when the last of these conversations took place after he had taken up the portfolio of Minister of National Defence. Since that time I have not heard from him again, which does not surprise me.”

At this point, we take a quick step back from Admiral Brock’s account to insert that what follows is truly the meat of the matter and a quick peek into the mess that the previous Liberal government had foisted on Canada’s military.

“McKinnon wanted me to tell him the sort of things he ought to say during the election that would gain a heavy Service turnout of voters in his favour. Defence Minister McKinnon wanted my advice upon what the hell to do with the job now that he had it. In both cases I tried to be helpful but my advice, so bluntly put, was obviously unacceptable to a retired Army officer now turned politician.

“He believed, as I did, that the whole scheme of unification and integration had brought nothing but chaos to the armed forces of Canada and he was very uncertain about what could be done to rectify the situation. I told him that I thought it was too late to make any useful changes at all, particularly if he merely followed the methods of his recent predecessors. 10Furthermore, I told him that if he intended drastic changes he could only accomplish these with the full support of uniformed senior officers at Defence Headquarters but that I was unable to help in determining where he could place his trust. I was convinced that the process of Liberal politicization had been so thorough during the last few years that there was little likelihood of finding anybody who would give an unbiased opinion. Too many strange changes of senior officers had taken

10 All Liberal: Barney Danson, James Richardson, Charles Drury, Edgar Benson, Donald Macdonald, Leo Cadieux, Paul Hellyer.

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place to permit anyone to assume otherwise. Unquestioning loyalty to ministerial directive which, in the military sense, were known to be wrong, had become one of the basic requirements for promotion to higher rank. Both McKinnon and I were well aware that the command structure within Defence Headquarters could not possibly stand up under the stress of actual war; the inter-layering of civilian and uniformed officials throughout the hierarch provided no direct line of command responsibility.

“If everything he wanted to do had to be ‘politically acceptable,’ and done ‘without fuss,’ I couldn’t help him very much, beyond offering hard and ready solutions. The first was that he should try the old toilet trick.

‘Toilet trick?’ he asked. ‘What’s that?’

“Well, the system needs flushing. If, just before flushing the toilet, you reduce everybody’s pay by about one third, you will find that all the biggest shits run out first.”

Harsh language, perhaps, but Admiral Brock hit it square on the head – the entire affair was a fiasco. True to their sworn allegiance to crown and country, military personnel ‘got on with the grunt’ and did perform their assigned tasks to the best of their ability all the while recognising that Ottawa was digging a deeper hole from which it was becoming increasingly more difficult to climb out of; but, in Ottawa the Liberals were up to their standard – a disdain for Canada’s military.

One weapon used by the Royal Canadian Navy in both World War Two and Korea was the smokescreen in which a ship created a heavy, sight-denying smoke cloud that hung close to the sea and afforded ships to slip away unseen by the enemy. To do this, ships either added additional oil to their air mixture so that a heavy black smoke rose from the ship’s funnel or used a special device that sat on the aft-most part of the ship’s quarterdeck for making smoke. In either case, smoke was the result and smoke such as a smokescreen was what the Liberals used to confuse the Canadian public as to the integration/unification programme.

As an example of just how distressed and dismayed Canada’s military personnel – most especially at the lower levels – became when an unorganised but strong thought criss-crossed the country and touched on army, navy and air force personnel.

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In those days, each member of the army, navy or air force was able to sign a form known as “Place of ordinary residence” each January. The form was used for federal elections and allowed military personnel an opportunity to register and vote in their home riding rather than in the riding they were serving in when the writ was dropped. This simple system was not overly used but it afforded personnel who were upset with unification to register to vote in the federal riding that PE Trudeau campaigned in. The idea was for all personnel who were ticked off with Trudeau and unification to vote for another candidate and thus, deny him re-election; sadly it did not come off as the logistics of organising such was beyond the means of any individual soldier, sailor or airman. A grand idea but one that fell short of its mark.

What the idea does reveal though, is the out and out ‘hatred’ that many military personnel held for Prime Minister Trudeau.

With respect to Paul Hellyer as minister of defence, the ever-widening and ever- rising uproar over unification possibly led to PM Pearson moving Hellyer and appointing him minister of transport – certainly a step down from the prestigious ministry of defence. After Hellyer resigned from the Liberal Party he sought to create another party, Action Canada, which faltered. He then had a go at being a Conservative and for a short while, he was a Conservative sitting in the House of Commons until 1974. Paul Hellyer had another go at creating a political party this time he termed it Canadian Action Party but failed to win the Ontario riding he contested to a Liberal. Later, he took to writing books and announced to Canada and the world that aliens were living amongst us and that two of them were working in the U.S. government. That comment came in 2013 while speaking in Washington, DC.

Canadian military veterans of the days of disaster of unification saw Hellyer’s reference to aliens as just another of his idiotic comments and understood why unification was such a dud – any Canadian politician/author who believes aliens are living among us cannot be all bad – just nuts. [Possibly a throwback to Liberal Mackenzie King?]

The comments that follow are from former members of the Canadian military who survived the unification onslaught and who recall those days of disgust and gave freely their thoughts of same.

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Personal Comments

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As the title of this piece is ‘A Sorry Saga in the Canadian Military,’ and as it concerns the Liberal governments of Prime Ministers Pearson and Trudeau regarding the integration and then unification of the army, navy and air force into one component entitled Canadian Armed Forces [CAF], it is only right that those most affected by this folly be allowed to voice their views. In no particular order, what follows are anecdotal accounts from officers and men who served during the period when the wheels fell off the Canadian military machine. Possibly, non-military people will not fully grasp the significance of the situation[s] as given in the following accounts, but they should because their Liberal government virtually destroyed the morale of Canada’s military and that led to distrust, disgust and dismay in the wardrooms and lower decks of the former army, navy and air force. It wasn’t until years later, with a change in government that things began to right themselves although not enough at the time to make much difference but a slight difference that led to better conditions and improved esprit de corps until, today, Canada’s army is again its army, its navy is again its navy and its air force is again its air force with each one a credit to both the personnel and the country. Once again, Canadians can be and ought to be proud of their military – both the service and the personnel who ‘Stand on guard for thee.’

Contributors’ names have been removed as their comments are the important part of this exercise and although their names are important to them and their families, they add nothing to this ‘expose’.

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I joined the RCN 16 August 1957, age 17 – barely – and served nearly two years. I was released under the “married under age” proviso wherein those matelots under age 20, or perhaps it was 21, were not eligible for subsistence allowance (or marriage allowance) on top of the base rate – which I believe was a mere $129 for an Able Seaman. By bullying, I re-enlisted 1 October 1963, for a three-year term, and underwent basic training, again(!) in Cornwallis. Upon finishing, marriage allowance – or subsistence, can’t recall which it was called – was awarded and back-dated to the date of joining.

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By March, 1964, again via bullying, I joined a TG1 class who were near the end of their course. Testing had shown that the only skill lost while out of the Navy was the fleet manoeuvring section which had undergone significant changes. When the White Paper on Defence came out, I read the worst flashing light exercise ever – a result of the dismay, disillusionment and depression brought on by what I immediately determined to be a very faulty proposition. My senior and I commiserated over this proposal and were of the same opinion it was wrong. If you recall, Hellyer (who I would still want to punch in the nose, age notwithstanding) crowed about the savings, and spoke grandly about an entirely new “stepping out” uniform for the amalgamated armed forces. He was reported to be quite an admirer of the U.S. Marine dress uniform (guess he never heard of the original Marines, the Royal ones). In April Hellyer arrived in Naden to speak to the troops. He had started in Nova Scotia and worked his way west – not far enough in my humble opinion – doing the same at all bases. Leading Seamen and below were mustered in the old gymnasium, the one adjacent to both the old and new parade squares, all officers and NCO’s were excluded, the doors guarded by killicks. Hellyer came onto the stage and gave his patterned speech about how great the navy would be with a combined armed force, new ships, weapons, and of course uniform. We became increasingly boisterous, raising our voices in opposition to the entire policy, to the point Hellyer became rather distraught and was hustled off the stage. Perhaps some murmurs about the starboard yardarm and a length of line scared him, but who knows. The next morning the Daily Colonist, morning paper then, had as a lead article Hellyer’s grandiose summary of the gathering the day before at Naden by announcing, “The troops are all behind me!” We were astounded, and everyone I met asked if there had been some other meeting where we were not present. Damned liar. The course finished and I was drafted to New Glasgow; a great ship, great crew, lots of fun ashore – and onboard. Many fine memories of that time between May and December 1964 when I was drafted to St. Croix and a very different atmosphere.

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In November 1964 we sailed from Esquimalt to San Francisco for three weeks: one week to get there, weekend ashore, one week on exercises just off the coast, and the last week sailing for home. Before slipping and heading south we embarked three Army sergeants. A jolly bunch were they: “Hey, Navy, let’s get going!” they said. They were in wild anticipation of two weekends in ‘Frisco, with a free ride to and from. So, we go going. As we rounded Race Rocks the first rollers hit. Soon, the pongo trio felt ill, then became violently so. They ended up spending the entire five days sitting at the base of the funnel, the centre of the ship, with faces the same color as the grey upper deck. The sick bay tiffy had to bring them biscuits and water and insist they eat. I’m not sure if they did. At any rate, we never saw them after docking in that great city on the Bay. I think they flew back to wherever they came from. This is an example of the folly of thinking soldiers can be sailors. We didn’t see any other soldiers, nor airmen, while on New Glasgow. Perhaps it was too early into the integration phase. But I think the general sentiment was that all servicemen instinctively knew the policy would not work. On St. Croix there was an airman acting as sick bay attendant, and he seemed to fit in, but, then, he didn’t have any seaman duties as did the rest of the crew. Perhaps it was the only trade truly interchangeable. In November 1965, however, we had a grand experience with the PPCLI. I wrote an essay about how they spewed from stem to stern, keel to truck, while only on the ship for a little over seven hours in the trip from Prince Rupert to the Queen Charlottes. Here, the stupidity of integration came to the fore. Soldiers are not sailors, although the reverse can be true. We all make a choice, usually as teenagers, to join the navy or army. It is an instinctive decision, I opine, and 99% accurate. To ask a soldier to switch to being a seaman is too much, something the bean counters never understood. I do recall one sergeant, I believe it was while in the Reserves (1977 – 1986), commenting he had to ask an OD how to do this that and the other and simply was not up to his rank when onboard a warship. To think an artillery sergeant can fire a naval gun, on a moving, riotously moving,

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platform, and aim accurately at another bouncing, moving warship, without substantial training and practice is simply stupid. The visual signal trade is one without any equal in the army (I never knew what the junior service did, anyway) and I cannot visualize standing above a slit trench waving a pair of semaphore flags, or using a flashing light, all of which would attract a lot of unwanted attention. In July 1966, upon returning from the NATO Naval Communication Competition in Flensburg, West Germany, I received my “hook,” backdated to 1 June, and a draft back to New Glasgow, then in reserve. I was slated to be drafted to Naden as an instructor for the Boatswain’s class in signals in the Fall and then take the TG3 course, which would pave the way for promotion to P2. I had, then, caught up to the fellows who joined in 1957 and the future was bright. However, the situation with respect to the future of the RCN was very much clouded. No one knew what was going to happen. My Divisional Officer, nice young fellow, was no help as he was leaving the Navy. It was a dilemma. Other factors were of course in play (large family, too much sea time). In the end, I decided to finish up the three year term and return to civilian life. While you can leave the Navy, the Navy never leaves you. In June 1977, after establishing a successful legal career, I joined the Naval Reserve, asking to be a Leading Seaman, Signalman, as I’d been in 1966, but the powers that be demurred and made me an Acting P2 sig. I saw no evidence of amalgamation much less integration between the forces, and the hands acted just as we had. Of course, I had to wear that detested green uniform, definitely an army style, and was embarrassed to go ashore with it on. I spent every chance there was to go out to sea for a few weeks, Saskatchewan being the most common ship, although I spend over four months on Kootenay during my “sabbatical” in 1985. In August 1986 I was tasked to go onboard a “roll-on, roll-off” freighter from Quebec City to North Norway. The ship, along with three others, were moving a mobile army regiment as an exercise to see how long it would take to load, traverse and unload the armored carriers and whatnot. A C1 from York Naval Division joined me, but he was on a separate ship. The Army set up huge security around the perimeter of the harbour, but neglected to secure the seashore. Right next to the ship I was assigned to,

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was a Russian freighter, at right angles to the roll-on/roll-off. From the forecastle a group of commies were filming and making notes of the types of vehicles being loaded and I presume the time taken to load each piece of equipment. Here, the Army simply did not understand naval matters: the harbor should have been cleared of civilian ships at least to a point where the operation could not be viewed, much less filmed. I think this incident points out the folly of the entire policy of integration/unification: we were not asked for any input on this event. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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I joined the RCAF in1963 as a Photographic Technician and my first posting was Maritime Air Command Headquarters in downtown Halifax with the air force. With integration I soon found myself posted to the Naval Dockyard Photo Section. I photographed Paul Hellyer’s briefing to the troops. I was there for Rear Admiral Landymore's farewell by the personnel of the naval station as he was driven about the station to three cheers and a hip-hip by the sailors lining the roadways of the base. A short time later I photographed his going away party given by the RCAF Senior Officers. I still have copies of these shots in my archives. Several later I found a NCO navy type posted to our 434 Fighter Squadron in Cold Lake, AB. This individual was a fine individual, a good NCO and a likable person but I sensed he felt like a fish out of the water and soon put in his release from the service. Served 1963 to 1996 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I joined the RCN in May 1951 as an Ordinary Seaman, Naval Storesman and served 35 years Regular Force plus nine years with the active reserves, retiring as a LCDR. When integration came along I was in mid-career and just newly CFR’d. Most of us on the commissioning course were quite dismayed when we became dressed like bus drivers, but I was still looking forward to a promising career, so I tried to remain optimistic. In 1974 I was serving in CFB Comox as a Logistics Officer. One of my secondary duties was on the editorial staff of the Base newspaper, the “Totem Times”. There was a lot of integration talk going on in the Mess, which prompted me to write “The Legend of Perilous Paul” and publish it in

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the paper. The Base Commander took a bit of flak over it but, being a real gentleman, did not come down too hard on us. After being commissioned, I was disappointed that I didn’t go back to sea, but due to integration I had some very interesting postings; NDHQ twice, Air Command Headquarters in Winnipeg; CFB Comox twice, and CFB Chilliwack. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

++++++++ I remember, during this period, we were being spit upon, by the locals in San Diego and we got the green uniforms and once while walking up the main drag in Diego , while passing a hotel while a bus was loading in front of a hotel some women asked me to load her luggage on the bus for her.

Shortly after this, we were allowed to have civilian clothes aboard and wear them ashore, in foreign ports. In some foreign ports, we had a jetty sentry, and in some of these ports, he had a rifle, but no ammunition, until we went to Montreal, and he was armed with a rifle and ammunition. We also had divers ready to check the hull for explosives. I will give it some thought and see if I can come up with something I missed.

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I don't have much to add to all the things that were said in Halifax at the time, but I do remember how upset Adm. Landymore was. For a while I thought he was going to go to Ottawa and punch people out.

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In the summer of 1964, I was drafted to HMCS Cornwallis to the Seamanship School, there to teach new entry seamanship; I was a communicator and for the next two years, was out of my trade teaching new entries something that I knew very little about; however, I was given a limited period to learn the ropes as it were and begin imparting knowledge about seamanship.

Not long after I was settled in and imparting seamanship knowledge to both male and female new entries, word came to us that a newfangled idea had been sprung upon the armed forces by Ottawa that was touted to be the salvation of everything military in Canada. Ottawa termed it ‘integration.’

On the surface, some aspects of this ‘integration’ made some sense but much of it did not; nevertheless, it was on the list of subjects to be taught and so, we began.

How to teach something foreign to a group of youngsters, many of whom were still a bit wet behind the ears, and to arrive at a position of knowledge on their part as to just what the heck integration meant as applied to Canada’s military, was the question.

I hit upon the idea of loaves of bread: I suggested that if an army chap and a navy fellow and an air force person each needed a loaf of bread and that each went separately to the local store that meant that three people each made one trip for a total of three trips for bread. I suggested that rather than do that with the cost of such associated with making three trips, why not have one of the three make one trip for three loaves of bread – the cost was much less and the time saved equalled money saved. The idea caught fire with the new entries and most seemed to understand the very basic concept of integration. To take that analogy further seemed to be fraught with distress and so, we stuck with the loaves idea and did not venture much beyond that; all seemed to be satisfied.

In the meantime, instructors at the school soon realised that integration – while highly touted by Ottawa with implicit instructions that the military be

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fully integrated over time [but not long time], might appeal to boffins in Ottawa, it did not and probably would not be accepted, fully, by the serving members of the army, navy and air force. Each outfit saw obstacles and in time those obstacles were proved. An example: as time passed and as integration became more accepted – grudgingly – and as stores items became known more by a NATO number than by a recognised name – mistakes began to appear. In an instance known to me, a piece for the ship’s 3”70 gun [turret] was needed and so was ordered. What arrived later was a piece for a Centurion tank’s main gun. Oh, well, put that down to growing pains; sadly, the pains never seemed to go away. So much for integration. My loaves of bread made sense whereas parts for a ‘turret’ did not.

Time moved on and so did I; I was drafted back to the West Coast to HMCS Yukon as senior signalman and second-in-command of the ship’s communication branch. I was fortunate to join a ship that was clean, tidy and pleasant with a commanding officer who was a pleasure to serve. We got along well.

Rumblings were heard that unification was on the way – another nightmare from Ottawa that was to change the world for the military of Canada in a big way and not in a pleasant way. However, we in Yukon soldiered on [sailored on?] and got on with the grunt as the RCN has always done. With Canada’s 100th birthday well underway in 1967, the hierarchy in Ottawa decided that the RCN ought to show the flag in Canada and elsewhere. We sailed up and down the BC coast and ventured into just about every port that could accommodate our destroyer; there were many ports – small and smaller - and we were busy entertaining our ‘fellow Canadians’ with open houses and tours. Integration had been accepted, grudgingly, and fewer and fewer goofs were made; but lurking in the shadows was the monster known as unification.

In late August, 1967, our ship sailed in concert with another destroyer and set course for Australia and New Zealand with various stops along the way to show the flag. We did this and three months later in mid-December, we returned to Esquimalt all the wiser for having visited and worked with our naval cousins in Australia and New Zealand. The experience was

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beneficial and showed that despite a difference in how the English language is spoken, we managed to do just fine.

Not long after our arrival in Esquimalt, I was drafted off Yukon and into HMCS Naden’s communication school as crypto instructor. All aspiring signalmen and sparkers who came through the school on their trade group two courses stopped in my jurisdiction where I hammered crypto into their heads and surprise, some of it stuck sufficiently that they passed the course. In addition, to the TG2 types, were officers of various ranks who sat in for a short period – a few days to a couple of weeks – just long enough to glean an inkling of just what cryptography was and to become dangerous when sent to the fleet as communication officers – assigned as such not trained as long ‘Cs’. An aside: the USS Pueblo’s capture by North Koreans and the subsequent attempt by the Pueblo’s crew to destroy their crypto equipment and books and codes and such without success, caused a wholesale change in current editions of NATO publications and the job of bringing the crypto training in line fell to me, alone. It was a time when I cursed the Pueblo’s stupidity in carrying a full complement of crypto publications, etc., into hazardous waters – something we did not do. Moreover, the Americans were ill-prepared in how to rid themselves of their top secret publications and equipment and so, the North Koreans ended up with NATO’s cryptographic stuff.

Then, in February, 1968, unification struck the army, navy and air force with a vengeance!

We entered a period where integration became unification and all hell became the norm.

At about that time, I was taken out of crypto and inserted as the senior visual instructor [SVI] at the communications school. Also, at that time, what we had known as the Royal Canadian Navy became the Maritime Command; yet, because the Comm School was a training facility, it came under the control of Training Command headquartered in Winnipeg, Manitoba. My superior was a major in the Land Force [ex-Canadian Army] at a desk in Winnipeg. It soon became apparent to me that the major had no idea about what I was communicating to him and I certainly had no inkling of what he thought we did training signalmen to become sailors at sea. Moreover, connected to all this was the requirement to rewrite the

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TG2 curricula to agree with unification – just how that was to be accomplished was never explained simply because nobody actually knew how. This was all very new and nobody, anywhere, had any idea of what was expected or of what was coming next.

After a while, I simply gave up and went back to what I had been doing previously in training the sigs. I had an agreement with individual yeomen to take a couple of school sigs onboard for a few days – at sea – and show them just how things functioned onboard with emphasis on fleet manoeuvering. The system worked reasonably well and had been devised by myself in concert with the yeomen who convinced their ship’s hierarchy that it would be beneficial all around to have a couple of ‘gophers’ onboard for a short spell. Well, unification and the major in Winnipeg saw no merit in it and told me to shut it down. So, we went back to the idea of having sigs up on the school’s roof using the lone 10”SP to communicate with willing ships in the harbour but not always did the ships agree as to time and need and so, that practice dwindled. When the idiocy of unification’s rot had set in, I said the hell with it and went back to the tried and true system that we had used for years in the RCN – as Frank Sinatra sang Paul Anka’s song years later, “I did it my way.”

I was rescued from stupidity when I was drafted to HMCS Gatineau as chief yeoman and I was most fortunate in that the commanding officer – an officer I had sailed with previously in HMCS Margaree – asked depot for me; so, he and I hit it off wonderfully. Years later, I still communicated with him but that story will come later.11

First things first – as Gatineau had been brought from Halifax and was in need of refitting, the ship was refitted in Esquimalt’s HMC Dockyard and that necessitated a lot of ‘onboard labour’ to clean up the mess. For a time, Gatineau’s offices were located in HMCS Cape Breton, the alongside ship depot ship. Once things were corrected and we were able to sail, we did 11 A few years later, Commander Murphy was appointed to another destroyer in the training squadron and asked me to accompany him. I told him that I would think about it but declined explaining that I would go nuts in the training squadron after being in the operational squadron. Cdr. Murphy said he understood and added that if at any time I wanted to ‘just talk,’ all I had to do was to tell the QM at the brow and he, Cdr. Murphy, would see me. I did on several occasions and we talked about many things. Years later, after I had retired and had gone from my reporter/editor stint to become an executive assistant to a cabinet minister, I lunched with now Captain Murphy – CO of Naden – and again, we discussed old times, good times that went back to our days together in Margaree and Gatineau. A sweeter man one could not meet.

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but not without difficulty as one thing after another broke down or failed to function as designed. At one point, we lost steering when just off Esquimalt Harbour entrance and we had to drop the hook quickly to prevent ‘coming to ground.’ A tug towed us into harbour and we were secured alongside for a while; but, shame was all over us as we became the laughing stock of the harbour.

In time, we sailed and when we passed the most westerly point of Juan de Fuca Strait and into the Pacific Ocean, a loud cheer was heard throughout the ship – literally - we finally were truly at sea.

With the travails of refit followed by work-ups [WUPS] behind us, we began a robust series of voyages; but, all with the unification tag stuck on us firmly. Our commanding officer, Tom Murphy, a commander in the navy was referred to as Lieutenant Colonel Murphy and the rest of the officers and crew by the unification nomenclature. On more than one occasion we received messages asking us to explain why an army Lt. Colonel was our commanding officer. Our green garbage uniforms were ridiculous and poorly made and so for the most part they hung on a person like a limp rag. These were the so-called [by Defence Minister Paul Hellyer] walking out uniform. Ugh, they were ghastly and everyone but PE Trudeau and Hellyer knew it. [Perhaps they did but were too damn obstinate to either realise it or to care, after all the Liberals in general and Trudeau in particular had a disdain for the military.]

On one occasion in New Zealand, the Independent Daughters of the Empire [IODE] hosted a dance for the ship’s company. We attended and wore our hideous green uniforms. At one point during the evening, an older woman asked me why I was there because in her mind, I was a ticket taker at the tunnel that was an entrance to the city we were in. She had not realised that I was in the Maritime Command of Canada – the ticket taker’s and our uniforms were just about the same other than mine had Canada on the shoulders. In any event, I explained why I was there at the dance and she was okay with it but did not like our uniforms – why weren’t they blue like other navies of the world. Good question to which I had no sensible response; and so it went round and round and with each turn life as a sailor became more tenuous as it seemed that daily more unification stupidity was thrust upon us and our army and air force compatriots.

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One such example of this was something termed – by the lower deck types – a Hellyer Hookie – but more on that below.

This came about when a junior able seaman was rated leading seaman – to use pre-unification terms – over more senior able seamen. This caused much dissention in the mess deck and led to some pretty serious ‘disturbances.’ It was seen as just another stupid idea from Ottawa that disturbed the tranquility of a close-knit mess and caused serious grievances. We were told that the same sort of promotion went on in the army and with the same results. I had and have no information on just how the air force handled it but I assume they experienced the same as the navy and army did in that respect. One other aspect of this was that sailors who had been a junior able seaman days before were suddenly equal to leading seamen who were their seniors just those same days ago. While they might have been equal as leading seamen, they were not equal as to experience and training and so, once again, turmoil struck with some not so pleasant results. To rectify this, Ottawa’s stupid boffins, decided to create what was termed the Hellyer Hookie in that a more senior leading seaman was 'upped a notch’ to become a quasi-leader with more authority than an ordinary leading seaman but not as much as a petty officer second class – a P2. To distinguish between an ‘ordinary leading seaman’ and a Hellyer Hookie, a badge was created that had an added symbol on it, and so, unification continued with bad blood mixed in among the serious, career-oriented sailors. It was my experience that some rather qualified, trustworthy leading seamen took their release rather than put up with the nonsense that they saw was unification. As more than one told me, he had joined the navy not the bloody Maritime Command with all its idiocy. That sentiment was echoed by many junior and senior petty officers and some chief petty officers who sought early release.

As time wore on and as more aspects of unification became clear, things did not smooth out but, rather, simply collected disgust and remorse and more anguish among both the wardroom and messdeck personnel. None, it seemed, was particularly happy with the unification situation.

It is well known and recorded that several senior officers of the navy, army and air force, but with emphasis on the navy, voiced their concerns about unification with the defence minister who was steadfast in his claim that

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Canada’s unification was being watched by other countries and soon all would follow Canada’s lead to unify their armed forces and to clothe their military personnel in hideous green uniforms. None did and so Canada went on its merry way with the Liberals at the helm steering the military straight on to what in the navy was termed ‘coming to ground’, in other words, a grounding on the rocks and tearing the bottom out of the ship. It is also well known that many senior petty officers and chief petty officers took early release to escape the continuing nonsense that was unification – this writer being one such chief. I chucked the entire stupidity a few months short of my career after Ottawa in concert with its ‘career planning programme’ saw fit to draft me from Gatineau to HMCS Shearwater to take over the base’s message centre – now, under unification, termed the communications centre or comcen – for a year or so then to sea as the squadron chief yeoman of one of the east coast destroyer squadron before being sent ashore to undergo a coxswain’s course to be followed by a stint at sea as a ship’s coxswain. All this was to cover a five year span and that would give me 30 years. When I told Ottawa that I was taking my release soon and that it made no sense to ship me, my wife and family of five children and effects to the east coast for a few weeks then ship us all back west – again at a pretty hefty price – Ottawa first told me that my draft to Shearwater stood, then a few days later rescinded that draft and drafted me to be the initial regulating chief at the newly-commissioned junior leadership school in Naden. At that point, I knew that unification had dulled the brain trust – what little there was in Ottawa – and that there was nothing for me but to insist on my early release. According to Ottawa, I was to report to the junior leadership school on a Monday at 0800 whereas the reality of it was that on the preceding Friday, I walked out of the navy on my way to my cabin at Nanoose Bay. I never did find out, not that I cared, just who did show up to greet me on Monday at 0800 at the leadership school.

A couple more examples of how unification was a muddle. When I was the SVI at the communications school, I was sent to the RCAF base at Clinton, Ontario to undergo a course on how to instruct instructors – a sort of senior instructors course. The course was good and I learned much during the two weeks that I was on the air force base. I was one of about 12 or so military personnel but the only sailor whereas the others were army. One

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army chap in particular caught my eye – he was the same rate as me, he was a signalmen as I was and we both had about the same time in. In Ottawa’s unification eyes, we were the same, after all, we both had crossed semaphore flags on one of our uniform arms. In discussing our respective trades we learned that the only thing we had in common was the crossed flag insignia on our uniforms; other than that, there was nothing we shared. For instance, he told me that his job was to string telephone lines from telephone poles, place telephone lines on the ground so that different units could communicate one with the other, he drove trucks and generally was a soldier. When I asked him about message handling he drew a blank; when I sought his input on crypto, he wanted to know what crypto was, and when I attempted to explain fleet manoeuvering, he almost fainted. And yet, in Ottawa’s scheme of things, we were equal and ought to be exchanged one for the other.

Another example: when unification came about sigs who manned message centres [navy term] thought wonderful, now maybe we will get a shore draft to an army or air force base in Germany [Lahr and Baden Baden respectively] but, no, what did happen was that air force types took the sigs spots in a msgcen while the sigs went back to sea. So much for unification working both ways.

Another example: while in Gatineau an air force cook was drafted onboard. Unlike navy cooks, he had not undergone a basic onboard firefighting course and so on a Sunday while he was cooking French fries in the galley’s deep fat fryer, a fire broke out to which he did not know what to do despite a 15-pound CO2 extinguisher being close to hand and the fryer’s damping system in front of him. The fire took hold but in short order the duty watch managed to put it out and things seemed to be okay except the fries for lunch were toast.

Shortly after, the adjacent leading seamen’s and below cafeteria was on fire and again the duty watch reacted; only this time they needed help. As was the custom, the navy’s fire department was always at the ready but on this particular Sunday, the Fleet Club [Club 44] in Naden caught fire and the dockyard fire department was there to attend to that fire. When the dockyard fire department was unavailable the Esquimalt fire department was called and they were called to fight the fire onboard Gatineau.

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Unfortunately, being civilians not familiar with ships and uncertain of how to access a ship and where to hook up hoses, things did not proceed smoothly despite the best efforts of the Esquimalt department.

As the ship was on 24 hour radio watch, our radio shack and message centre were manned as if the ship were at sea. A consequence of that was that as senior communicator, I was called to report onboard to ensure that all crypto equipment and publications were safely secured and to stand by for further orders. When I arrived onboard, the sigs and sparkers had done a good job and had everything in hand and the fire was not threatening the communication spaces. I offered my assistance as where and when I could; I ended up connecting with the navy’s fire boat that had come alongside to render aid. The plan was to take a hose from the fire boat and hook it up to the ship’s mains so that sufficient water was available to fight the onboard fire. The plan was a good one but the execution of same was not – to both my horror and that of the fire boat’s crew, their hose did not mate with the ship’s mains and so, unable to make the connection. In time, the correct size hose was located and the connection was made but much time had been lost.

Later, when the episode was being replayed, it was determined that nobody had ever given any thought to the size of the fire boat’s hose and the destroyer’s mains – that oversight was quickly corrected and from that point onward, the fire boat had the correct size hose onboard.

All of this was put down to unification in that an untrained cook had been drafted onboard and unable to be a ‘sailor.’ This proved the old saw that a cook is a cook is a cook is incorrect. A navy cook is trained to sail in a ship and to function while underway in heavy seas unlike either an army or air force cook who operates from a solid foundation that does not move up and down with wave action. It is one reason why ranges in navy galleys have side rails to keep pots and pans from sliding off when at sea and why those pots and pans are not filled near to the top as can be done ashore.

The ship was laid up for three months and repairs cost into the millions of dollars.

An aside: an army friend of mine was a cook and he told me that cooking on a base was much different than cooking from the back of a truck out in the field during exercises or in live conditions .Additionally, my dad was a

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cook in the RCN and I saw just how things functioned in a galley. At one time my dad I sailed in the same ship at the same time – what a joy that was.

Another example of the lack of understanding on the part of Ottawa with respect to unification. Navy sick bay tiffies are trained well and can carry out minor surgery, prescribe narcotics, function as an operating room nurse, function as a triage nurse and generally be well acquainted with all aspects of medicine and treatments. On one ship that I sailed in, an army ‘tiffie’ was drafted onboard. He did his level best but admitted to me that he had never experienced the workload that he had to do as a sickbay tiffie on a destroyer. In the army, when on scheme or when in action, he said there was a doctor available whereas on a ship, he was it – no doctor. It was an eye-opener for him.

About the only army fellow who came onboard under the unification scheme and who did manage to fit in, was a writer who handled the ship’s correspondence in much the same manner as he would and did as an army unit’s – battalion, perhaps – correspondence.

The masterminds in Ottawa deemed that the pre-unification 301 trades could easily be whittled down into 99 and so, the agony began. In the end, as far as I know, the 99 became 101 – still a long way from the initial 301.

So, what does all this mean?

It means that unification of Canada’s three military services was a foolhardy idea that as it went on became more unworkable than workable and revealed that the Liberal government of first Pearson and then Trudeau either were sold a bill of goods by defence minister Paul Hellyer, or succumbed to the will of a particular air force air marshal who, according to an ex-air force golfing buddy of mine who was in Ottawa at the time and on the air marshal’s staff, said it was a farce from day one. He, too, took early retirement.

In time, as more pressure was applied, subtly from the inside in the three services and as the Liberals were tossed out to be replaced by Brian Mulroney and the Conservatives, things began to right themselves and bit by bit, a chipping away at unification occurred over time. First, the Conservatives brought back the standard uniforms of the navy,

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unfortunately the bell bottoms did not reappear, air force and army, although the army did not have much to change; additionally, the unification nomenclature was tossed in favour of a return to the traditional terms and commanding officers of destroyers were, once again, commanders and not Lt. Colonels.

When the Liberals were returned to Ottawa under Jean Chretien, things slowed down but did not stop; what the Conservatives had begun remained – despite budget cuts. Then, following another election, the Conservatives of Stephen Harper became government and within their mandate, the three services saw improvements and joy to the world, the term ‘Royal’ was reintroduced to the navy and air force to become, once again, the Royal Canadian Navy and Royal Canadian Air Force respectfully. Moreover, the navy got its own flag – a Canadian version of the well-accepted White Ensign that so much of Canada’s navy had sailed under and fought with in World War Two and Korea and beyond up to unification.

The world of Canada’s military had begun to be straightened out and sailors were sailors and soldiers were soldiers and airmen [and women] were airmen, again.

It might be written that the sun began to shine brightly on Canada’s military.

It might be said, in retrospect, that I was, in some ways, a bit of a rebel; I did not take crap from either the outfit or some of the rather silly officers that came along – with unification, perhaps – but I did shield my sigs with loving, tender care. Woe be to the person who sought to intrude upon my sigs and their duties. On more than one occasion, I saw fit to lecture officers on the rights and wrongs of being an officer and that to intrude onto my flagdeck or to interfere with my sigs was a cause for ‘a father and son talk’ with me being the father. On more than one occasion, I had to tell junior officers just how things in the communication branch functioned and that just because a couple of weeks previously the officer had been so green that some thought he was grass laid on the deck, he did not have the intelligence nor the experience to tell me how to run my department. Most got the message and became rather good at not interfering into the signal branch in particular and the communications trade in general.

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Integration was more or less acceptable but on a reduced scale than what Ottawa thought it ought to be; but unification was a gross error and was the catalyst for either the resignation of or dismissal of senior officers who with their leaving, left a huge hole in the experience, training and functioning of the upper echelon of the three services with the navy taking the biggest hit. Without that experience at the top, those beneath who did not have either the training or experience, were, to use a saying, ‘a bit at sea’ and it showed in the services but thanks to the sincerity of the serving officers and senior chiefs and petty officers, things did move along reasonably well. In time, as Captain Tom Murphy told me during one of our many quiet talks, when the blue navy is gone and replaced by the green navy, things will be okay, again. That has happened and thankfully the green uniforms are also gone, for good.

Unification – never a good idea and thankfully for Canada and its army, navy and air force, it has been given the heave-ho and deep-sixed. May it never return!