Every morning except Sunday, the men assembled in the parade ground for inspection, followed by callisthenics until nine. Most days they marched in the parade ground from nine until noon. Training resumed after lunch, sometimes at the rifle range. At other times it might be a lesson in semaphore or a route march through the countryside.
In the few hours of free time in the evenings, many went to one of Borden’s regimental canteens. Located near the Foresters’ section of the camp, the Salvation Army hut was a popular place to write letters home, sit and talk, watch movies, or listen to a visiting band. By ten, everyone was back in their hut for lights out at 10:15. But often lights out was short-lived, as moments after the orderly officer made his rounds, the bulbs strung the length of the hut were switched back on to resume poker games.
Russ found the physical challenges of life at Camp Borden easy compared to the tough winter at McFadden’s camp. But the mental challenges of the army were different than those in civilian life. After eight years of manual labour jobs, Russ must have grown used to taking direction from those who might be more experienced but lacking his bright mind. To not suffer fools in civilian life was possible if you were prepared to walk away from a boss who proved intolerable. But a lowly army private displaying that attitude almost certainly found himself in trouble.
Compounding Russ’s rebellious attitude towards mindless authority was the fact that he was sensitive about not having completed high school. With a sharp mind, he could derive pleasure from demonstrating that education and rank didn’t necessarily translate into superior intellect. He may already have adopted the fractured Latin phrase he espoused in later years: “Illigitimus non carborundem est.” For those not familiar with the saying, he would translate it: “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.”
Even in a regiment as forgiving as the Foresters, where building esprit de corps was considered more important than crisply saluting every passing officer, Russ likely found use for his Latin maxim. He was, after all, not part of the permanent army, and must have at times found the army’s insistence on arcane military protocol akin to water torture. It was hard for most recruits, much less one who was sharp-minded and of a rebellious spirit, to see how the manner a blanket was folded, or the very precise arrangement of personal items in a footlocker, was going to help win the war.
Alcohol was not allowed in the barracks, but it was practically impossible to prevent it. On a few occasions Russ consumed more than someone should who had to rise early the next morning. Once, after he fell into an alcohol-aided sleep, someone put a chocolate bar down the back of his shorts. The next morning, Russ realized there was a sticky mess. His reaction to what he thought had happened more than satisfied the perpetrators.
On another occasion, he woke with a pounding hangover. Staggering out of bed after the six a.m. reveille, he pulled on his uniform and stumbled onto the parade square. He groaned inwardly when the Sergeant told them to report back with packs and rifle. They were going on a ten-mile run.
With packs on their back and rifles in their hands, Russ’s platoon left the parade ground at a slow run. His legs felt like lead weights were attached to them and the pack jarred with each step. Soon others began passing him, then he was running by himself. He continued, his head feeling like it would explode. With his eyes fixed on the ground Russ became aware that someone had dropped back. Glancing up, he saw Perry.
“How are you feeling, Russ?” he asked.
“Words won’t do it justice,” Russ said.
“We’ll go together,” said Perry. Russ grunted in reply as the pair ran, the platoon pulling further ahead of them. As they slowly trod on, it seemed as though Russ might make it. But both knew what lay ahead. Rising before them in the distance was a steep hill. Reaching the bottom of it, Russ stopped.
“I’ll never do it,” he said, leaning forward and gasping for breath. He dropped his pack and rifle and fell to his knees.
“Wait here,” said Perry. He picked up Russ’s pack. Carrying both packs and two rifles, he proceeded up the hill. Within a few minutes he was back.
“Climb on my back,” he said.
“What? You’re crazy! Leave me here to die.”
“C’mon, you sunovabitch. If you don’t finish this run, you’ll never get your pass for this weekend. We have a lacrosse game we promised to play, and you are going to be there.”
Russ looked up at his friend, standing over him with his hand extended. Grabbing onto it, he pulled himself upward. As he did, Perry went down on one knee and pulled Russ over his shoulders, wrapping his arm around Russ’s leg and balancing his friend’s weight across his shoulders. Grunting, Perry stood up and began climbing the hill. Step over step he carried Russ forward. When he reached the top, the two men collapsed in the grass. Perry started laughing, and soon the two of them were lying on their backs, howling like schoolboys.
After a few minutes, they climbed to their feet and put their packs on. When they reached the parade ground, the rest of the column had long since arrived and been dismissed. They went to find the Sergeant, who briefly studied them, saying nothing to the troopers before dismissing them.
Relief from army discipline, close living quarters, and mediocre food came every other weekend when passes were issued. Most of the thousands of soldiers and airmen boarded trains for Toronto, where hostels were cheap and entertainment plentiful. Many of Owen Sound’s Foresters headed home. Russ and Perry used their weekend passes to join the Georgians wherever they were playing.
Sometimes, someone from the team would come by with a car to pick them up. At others they drove to the game in the Colonel’s personal car, which he loaned them. Perhaps the Colonel felt it would boost morale to have two of the Owen Sound Company playing for the hometown Georgians.
The lacrosse season had been exciting. After falling behind Orangeville early in the year, they had clawed their way back, finishing tied in points. In a two-game series to choose an overall winner, Owen Sound won both games, entering the playoffs as regular season champion. The Georgians won their first-round playoff, progressing to the final against Orangeville. The Georgians won the first game of the series in Owen Sound, but Orangeville struck back to take game two at home. They exchanged wins at home in the next two games, setting up a fifth and deciding game in Owen Sound. Perry and Russ were in Owen Sound to take part in the league final on September 5. Two thousand fans packed the arena, and they tensely watched the close contest. They were able to relax and enjoy the game in the second period, when with Perry up front and Russ and Jack MacLeod on defence, Owen Sound scored nine unanswered goals to burst the game open. Despite missing their star player, Gerry Johnson, who was injured, the Georgians went on to an overwhelming 32–13 win and the series victory. They would next enter the provincial playdowns.
In a team picture taken on the floor of the arena after the final game, Russ wears the practice sweater he’d used all season, the rest of the team in striped team jerseys bearing the Georgians name. Wives and girlfriends waited outside the arena for the Georgians to shower and dress. Gradually the players came out, each wearing a new team jacket. When Gerry, Perry, and Russ emerged, Russ and Perry in their army uniforms, carrying team jackets, Gerry without one. Gerry’s wife Marge knew from the looks on their faces something was wrong. Later that evening Gerry explained.
After winning the championship, Jim MacLeod had entered the dressing room carrying a large box. He called for the players to be quiet and