Sometimes the line between fact and fiction can be quite blurred. Often, it is impossible to tell where truth stops, and tall-tales begin. Especially when it come to our long Regiment’s history. I submit the following for your own evaluation knowing that is comes from word of mouth.
In the dead of night, many decades ago in the Mess between 1940’s to 1960’s, a few of the lads were tossing back a few brewskies (note 2), when someone proposed a perfectly reasonable argument that the cannons positioned at Howardine Park (today is Parc du Domaine-Howard), ought rightly be kept in our own weapons vault (less they be captured by some enemy force and used for evil). Synergistic chatter insued, and soon a plan was quickly devised: chains, axes, shovels and other necessary implements were forthright placed in two deuce-and-a-halves (note 3), and the small assault team proceeded through the “Pearly Gates” destined for Howardine Park under the stealth of darkness.
It was windy and raining, though not enough to persuade the team to abandon their mission. Maneuvering the vehicles into place, left heavy scars on the manicured lawns. A small price to pay to insure the safety of the community. Slipping, and sliding, the chains were eventually wrapped around the base of the first of the cannons and tethered to one of the awaiting beasts. Tugging, spinning, jerking… all to no avail. Shovels and manpower became the perceived remedy for the situation. And so, they dug… and dig, they did… for what seems like hours, and still no sight of where the cannon’s concrete base ended.
Enthusiasm was quickly surrendering to the wet. With deep ruts from multiple attempts at extraction; and all bodies exhausted, thoroughly soaked and teetering on the verge of sobriety, but most of all, they were stagnating in the incredible amount of mud and dirt that was everywhere. At the pivotal moment of defeat, the group huddled tightly to evaluate their situation. Whilst the majority favoured an immediate and total withdrawal to shelter and the welcomed prospect return in the Mess, something quite unexpected happened. From the far side of the pitch-black circle, came a voice that cause a deafening silence to befall the group.
“You know” said an unidentified voice. “Maybe we don’t have to actually take the cannon.” Another short pause echoed in the silence. “Wouldn’t hiding it be as good?” Wowser (note 4)!!! What profound insight. The team was once again energized. Working with the precision and speed of Stanley Cup champions, the group quickly dug a massive hole adjacent to the cannon and piled all the debris atop and around it...Voilà, there it was. Mission accomplished! Retiring back to the Mess, the group celebrated their mastery of illusion by drying their outsides and wetting their insides.
It would seem that headlines the next morning read: “Cannon stolen from Howardine Park – Investigation ongoing.” A theft of such import rallied ALL law enforcement – civilian, as well as, military: a major weapon was in the hands of “God only knew who, and for what diabolical purpose!”. The case was escalated to the highest level of priority. But luck was not on their side: The rain had washed away all forensic evidence at the scene. The rain and winds had also camouflaged the vehicular sounds from attracting any potential witnesses, and; fearing the clear and present danger of their arrests, the lads at the Regiment all swore a blood-oath of absolute and perpetual silence.
An entire week went by: no clues; no leads; no suspects. In utter frustration, and in total defeat, the jurisdictional authorities had no other option but to remove themselves from the crime scene. As the barricades and tape were taken down, a small Bobcat (note 5) was brought in to push the dirt back into the hole. With about a 15-foot running start, its engine revved as it took aim at the large pile of dirt. Away it went: then, with a tremendous echoing “CLUNK”, it stopped dead in its tracks. Everyone turned towards the odd sound and moved in to investigate.
Kicking and clawing at the earth, revealed a most unexpected find. Would you believe: there was an actual cannon under that pile of dirt! After several hours of manual digging, the cannon was once again returned to as it was: a little dirtier, perhaps, but fully intact with yet one more story to add to… If only that cannon could talk… Oh, what tales it could tell!
Not amused the authorities endured significant embarrassment over the entire affair and were quick to put this behind them. As for the lads, well… they never did come forward with their account of the event and, to the best of my knowledge, have remained true to their oath of silence made that night. Could it be possible to detect a sly smile or a twinkle in the eye of the ancients by mentioning the canons in a conversation? Anyone have additional details on this distant anecdote or legend? It goes without saying that the customs have changed a lot.
1. The members of Sher H called themselves Sherbie-Herbie withour derogatory connotation.
Regimental Nicknames of the Canadians Force: https://military.wikia.org/wiki/Regimental_nicknames_of_the_Canadian_Forces#endnote_4
2. Brewskies : nickname meaning beers.
3. Two deuce-and-a-halves: cargo truck for troop life.
4. "Wowser" is an Australian term that refers to a person who seeks to deprive oth-ers of behaviour deemed to be immoral or sinful.
5. Bobcat: small multifunctional tractor.
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