The Cottage

Not everyone wanted to stay on base during our time at North Bay. Some of the RSU folk brought camper trailers to a local trailer park & made their stay a family holiday. Rick Folker even brought his boat up to Lake Nipissing. He and his RSU buddy, Pete Banister, were both Good Time Charlies with quick quips. They'd have fun on the water with no shortage of female crew. Cam Horvath was an item with Dorothy Rice at this time, our drill instructor from GMT days. Cam had an interesting philosophy on girlfriends & fidelity. You had to have your steady girlfriend, but you also needed your frequent "strange piece", like Janet. He couldn't help himself. He said, "it was in the blood", handed down from his father & their ancestors. Anyway, Cam & Dot were a couple & rented a lakefront cottage on the edge of town. Colin Stearman was also one of the renters. This was an excellent venue that became a party place. It offered a break from base food, uniforms, and the usual surroundings. They even had a TV set. I recall a bunch of us glued to a popular sitcom of the time called "Soap". With its own bit of private beach, the lake was very inviting. Ah, the feel of the sand between your toes! I've been to many beaches over the years (Bermuda, Bahamas, Cuba, Dominican Republic, Virgin Islands, Florida, Myrtle, The Maritimes, Grand Bend, Wasaga, Sandbanks, Long Point, etc.), but each one is special & you feel like you are a kid again. I didn't want to over stay my welcome but the cottage was such a welcome change.

Staying at the barracks did have its moments. One dark night, Chip Ray and I decide, in our drunken stupour, that an old time panty raid at the Women's Barracks is the thing to do. Chip was quite young. He joined the Reserve at 15 & we called him Puppy Tags, as he was too young for dog tags. We did find some of the girls of our company. They merely laughed at our demands, then our pleas for their sacred garments. With no spoils, our Commando Raid was becoming a bust. Obviously, we hadn't been trained by the British SAS! Some record of our attempt had to be left, so we did a couple of pranks, like putting saran wrap on the top of the toilet bowls. I believe a fire extinguisher was discharged under the doors of a couple of the wenches, before we ran back to our barracks. We came back empty handed. Panties would have made wonderful souvenirs to brag about.

Sergeant Dick Balls & the other RSU people at the trailer park invited the whole crew for a party. Lots of summertime BBQ food & libations. Of course we sang our bawdy squadron songs & partied like there was no tomorrow. One specific incident occurred. Gary LePere from 400 Sqn threw our "groupie" into the lake. He never said a word. Gary was normally quiet anyway. He just came over to where a group of us were horsing around with her, picked up the girl, walked over to the water, and tossed her in. She was shocked. Later he married her. Not on this day.

The Groupie & The Ukies

Joanne Ringer was her name. She was a Base Brat of maybe 16 years of age. You have to realize that it can be boring for the teens on a base. Then suddenly there arrives a large group of people like us, who are there for a good time. She began hanging around at our functions. I guess her folks didn't mind. A number of us adopted her as "Big Brothers" and looked out for her. We made sure she didn't get too pissed, which was something new for her, that she was keen on doing. One of our crew, Myron Jerkski, tried to put the blocks to her by forcing himself on her. He was ostracized, as a result. This was a rare event, where one of your own was sacrificed for a stranger. But Myron should have known better and she was a naïve little lady that was well liked. Myron was a short, skinny man in his twenties. I was embarrassed that he was one of our "Ukrainian Connection" in the squadron. Some of us became even more protective of her. I remember going roller-skating with her & some of our group. It was my first time & I didn't stay on my feet very long. But you'd do this stuff for your little sister, or at least I would if I had one. She even had her own Banzai Bonnet, so she was made to feel like one of the boys. Huey & other lads gave her squadron paraphernalia. I gave her a 400 Squadron T-shirt.

The lads brought her along on our boat trip in Lake Nipissing. She had a great time and got lots of attention. Old Wally Wellington, in his "lounge lizard" polyester suit, was being a dirty old man by flirting with her. She was rescued. Myron would have been banned from the trip but by this point, she had forgiven him. He behaved himself. She was just an innocent kid that was having a ball. I'm sure Joanne didn't want it to end. But within a few days, we had packed up & gone. She sent me photos of herself modeling the 400 T-shirt. Letters continued for awhile. Gary LePere left the squadron. Somehow, the two of them hooked up. I guess that dip he gave her that day at the trailer park had made an impression. Heard that they wed & moved to Oshawa. I recently heard that he works for the Toronto Transit Commission & I believe that they're still together. Something lasting did happen as a result of the Reserve! I'm happy for them. Myron quit the Reserve shortly after this summer. Nobody missed him.

Ollie Slobelski was another Ukrainian brother. One day he turned me on to a song called "Wine Stoned Plowboy" by a Nester Pistor. This was a comedy take-off of Glen Campbell's "Rhinestone Cowboy". Nester was a Ukrainian Canadian comedian who played on ethnic humour with accents. I liked the album. Ollie later went on to serve with Canada's United Nations contingent in the Middle East for several months. He got a decoration as a PeaceKeeper for it. He said that his peacekeeping was done behind the cash register at the Canadian Exchange Store! They also serve who ring in purchases. Unlike the Hungarians, we did use the odd Ukrainian expression amongst ourselves but we didn't carry on conversations in the language. Some of us really weren't fluent & besides, the Ukrainians had been around longer in Canada & were far more assimilated into Canadian culture.

Jim Homaluke was the final member of our Ukrainian Connection. Sometimes his nickname was "Homely Uke". It had nothing to do with his appearance - it just rhymed. Jim was one of our Crew Chiefs at North Bay.

He was one of those "Master Corporals for life". A nice enough guy. He was mature, stable, married & dependable. Well, except for one night at a barracks party. I look outside the window & I see Jim draped over the hood of a car. His torso is, as he's still standing. I go out to see if he's OK. He's somewhat coherent but he's barfed a few times. I shake him & he lifts his head. With a huge grin he says, "I'm going to lie down for awhile". His head drops down & he passes out. Back up in the room, I later hear him snoring, so at least he's still breathing. If the MPs didn't get him, he stayed like that all night. After this, he had a new handle - "Homely Puke". They say he's still in the Air Reserve. Maybe he's made Sergeant by now. Jim still lives at the same address that he did twenty years ago. He & I are probably the only ones from the squadron that do. Freud might be able to understand what this means.

Her First Salute

Unlike in the movies, in the CAF you only saluted outdoors when you were wearing a hat. Indoors, without your head gear, you simply came to attention. Around our home base at Downsview, we were informal about saluting around the parking lot, which was one of the places where you might come across an Officer. One day at the North Bay barracks, this Officer is coming towards the door, as we were going out. I say, "Good morning, Sir". He stops & says, "One moment, Airman. Don't you salute Officers"? Oops, "Sorry Sir" and I give him his recognition, which he returns. He continued to ream us out. I then became paranoid about looking for Officers coming in my direction! Another day, I saw the same guy chewing out some other young folk. What a prick! Anyway, I was thus suitably prepared when newly promoted Lieutenant Diane Smyley was entering the barracks under similar circumstances. I snapped a salute; she returned it then said, "Excuse me, Private". I thought, "What now"? She tells me that I was her first salute as an Officer & tradition demands that she give me a silver dollar. She needed my name & unit. She was pleased that I was part of the 2 ARW, her own group. True to her word, she delivered a shiny new coin. I kept that dollar for many years. I guess I it was eventually given to a coin dealer, along with others we had in the family. There are many such traditions in military culture. This is one I wouldn't have known about had it not been for that sequence of events.

Party To The Max

I can't remember how it came about. Kevin Cocker & I worked together. He supervised me while we worked the flight line, but we weren't that close. He was very serious about the work & tried to excel all the time. Hence, they called him "Super Tech". He was a red head & short. He looked a bit like Howdy Doody. Kevin was hanging around with a young lady that was new to 411 Squadron, Joanne Gillies. She had a girlfriend that was also new to 411, Maxine O'Brien. I guess Max had a crush on me because Kevin & Joanne got us together. Both the girls were just kids barely 17 and I was 23. Seeing that this happened about 23 years ago, you could say it was a lifetime ago.

Kev had a 1968 Mustang fastback that was fast, much faster than my 'stang. We did have our choice of cars in common. The four of us bombed around in his car, picking up beer & liquor. We end up at Kev's room for some drinks & laughs. Alcohol is a panty remover, as we all know. Kev had bunk beds & I can't remember which of us had the top bunk. I think it was the top one but I do know that Maxy was on top of me. We dry humped for hours. It was afternoon with bright sunlight, but the drawn curtains created silhouettes in gentle darkness.

Max had on a skirt & pantyhose. I groped her firm, small ass while she sucked my tongue deep into her mouth. She pulled my tongue so hard it became painful! Afternoon became evening. She was an attractive package. A pretty face like that of a cherub. Curly strawberry blonde hair, slim, with small breasts but great legs. She was giddy, bubbly & vivacious. I was aroused. So much so that I was suffering the pain from what we use to call "lover's nuts", from being constantly aroused with no release. My fingers probed. She had her limits that day & was probably a virgin. But she'd stroke & tease me. Grind her womanhood against my groin like a wild animal. Cuddle & whisper sweet things. Eventually, she got around to what was on her mind. She said that she would like me to take her on the upcoming boat trip to Keystone Island. I was evasive about it. She wanted to be boyfriend & girlfriend but I couldn't take that seriously. After all, I was six years older, a university senior, and I was still carrying a torch for my old high-school sweetheart who I had gone out with for almost three years. At this point in time, I still hoped for a reconciliation - something that didn't happen. Besides, how would it be perceived at our group function, with me "robbing the cradle", having this girl on my arm? I had my nice guy image that I strove to maintain. It didn't seem right to lead her on. I called her "Mop Top" instead of "Max", to infer that she was like a child's doll. I told her that I'd be there on the boat trip but I'd be with my buddies. She gave up on the notion. I could tell she was disappointed by her silence save for sighing. Sleep took hold of us.

I don't know how Kevin & Joanne made out but there had been lustful sounds from the other bunk. At the boat trip, "Mop Top" did keep her distance. I didn't have to worry about her hanging all over me. I think she might have flirted with some of the guys closer to her age. At any rate, she certainly wasn't as friendly to me again. I don't remember seeing her around much after North Bay. She left the Reserves a short time later.

In retrospect, I was silly. I mean, what harm would it have done to be her date that day? Who cares what the group thinks? I've learned that any group is seldom unanimous in its perceptions. Members of the group are often busy trying to make their own "scores" by any means & seldom have the time to judge you. And what does it matter 5, 10, or 20 years later? You can be the worst lecher on earth & buddies will still be loyal. Few of the others, I'm sure, worried about consequences. Perhaps I should have popped her cherry. Perhaps someone else there did. She just wanted someone to call her own. I was capable of it & she appeared keen but I let reason get in the way. Maybe we would have explored avenues together that neither of us had traveled. But like Bob Stopp & the base woman that took a liking to him, I blew it. Something that I wouldn't let happen again. I wouldn't turn a lady away again - sometimes with scary results! Where ever she is now, I hope she's well. I remember you. You were hot!

2011 Postscript:

I had the opportunity to meet Maxine. Chas Horvath read this story & contacted me around 2001 that he had an email address for her. I conversed with her & she was keen to get together some time & reminisce about the old days. I guess my wife was cautious about the possibility of me re-connecting with an old 'flame", so she was present when Max dropped by our house. Well there was no need, as any magic was long gone after 20+ years. It was interesting though getting some background info from Max. She was quite open about her life. The reason she disappeared from 411 Squadron & the Base was that she was worried. Apparently she fell in with some dudes who she was selling drugs at Downsview with & felt that the long arm of the law was closing in, so the quick exodus from our world. The subsequent years were no kinder for her - a couple of bad marriages. And if I recall correctly, even an episode where she shacked-up with the husband of a sick girlfriend (or was it her sister?)...Anyway, a "Peyton Place" kind of story. Not really what I imagined. But the meeting did end my "what if" thoughts surrounding her from North Bay many years earlier. I'm more convinced now in karma - that if things didn't work out, there's a reason for it, and it's probably for the best! Whether it's "Kinky Sue" ( a character in a later story) or some others, some are just shit magnets. Their destiny is not a stable, good life, but to always be in shit. And if you get too close to their sphere of influence - you get dragged into the shit too!

The Hospital

Those days at North Bay also marked the first time I visited a base hospital.

Every base had a well-equipped facility & we were entitled to the finest care. This may not have been as big a benefit as it was during the days before Medicare. The military expected its full-time folks to use their own emergency clinic rather than going to a hospital off base. As a matter of fact, my own family physician was a RCAF doctor at Downsview at one time. I don't know if that was a good thing, but I've always liked him.

My symptoms included fatigue, sore eyes with styes, etc. I was given sodium sulamide solution or something like that. I was told that my condition was not a reaction due to swimming in polluted water, but was the result of infections from being run down. Not eating properly, lack of sleep, excess drinking, staying up late & partying were taking a toll. I used the eye drops. I think I added more fruit to my diet. Did I change the partying lifestyle? No way!

Brian Mulberry could see I was hurting myself. He did his best to give me religion & to change my disastrous ways before it was too late. I didn't really bite. Although I picked up a copy of "The Late Great Planet Earth" & began reading it around the hangar. I did begin to believe that the world was on the verge of the apocalypse. Seeing "Omen II" also confirmed this thought. But rather than turning to prayer & virtuous living, I felt that if the end is nigh, I gotta cram as much debauchery into my young life, before we all are cut off!

Where's Arnstein?

I heard that my high school musician buddies were doing a gig outside of North Bay while I was there. Dave & Rick were an acoustic guitar duo at the time called "Fulcrum". Later, Dave Rave would head a rock band with Rick named "The Shakers", and after that Dave would front for "Teenage Head" for a spell. Dave & I were tight. We did a trip to New Brunswick a couple of years earlier, staying with his relatives. We saw the Olympics in Montreal. Had tons of fun in my Mustang together.

But now they were doing gigs six nights a week, traveling to some god forsaken places in Ontario. Arnstein was one of these. I doubted that any of my squadron buddies would like to catch their brand of "rockabilly" music, so I headed solo south of Lake Nipissing, on the road to Port Loring. Arnstein was in the middle of nowhere, on the only road to it. The town had little, other than the tavern they were playing. It wasn't a rough place. Just a handful of locals. My buddies were glad to have a friend in the audience. They did their repertoire of "Poison Ivy", "Lend Me Your Comb", Buddy Holly, Beatles, and other '50's & '60's tunes. It turns out there was a couple of ladies present who ran a camp for what today would be called the "mentally challenged". They brought out a few of their charges on this Saturday night. They clapped at all the right places & in some of the wrong ones, too. I was drinking with the lads after they finished their sets. Can't remember if they were driving back home that night. If so, I would have had them crash at my barracks room.

As it turns out, these two ladies introduce themselves & join us. I guess the band was the only excitement in these parts. They obviously took a liking to Dave & Rick. So, they invited us to come over to their cottages on the water. We partied with some of their people until it was time to tuck them in. One of them was a middle-aged guy who was really out of it. He kept pointing out of the window & repeating "river". We named him "Arnie Arnstein" and would remember him for years afterwards. Anyway, I think the girls had some romantic intentions but Rick was married & devoted. They weren't interested in me, as I was only a friend & not one of the stars on stage. Dave had a girlfriend but never wished to offend a fan, so he entertained the one! I don't think much happened but we did have a nearby place to crash. Next day, we headed our own way. A couple of years later, we'd venture back to Arnstein. "The Shakers" had a gig there & a bunch of us made a weekend of it, staying in rooms upstairs at the tavern. Didn't see those girls again. We looked for Arnie Arnstein, whom we named mayor of the metropolis, but didn't see him either. We figured he might have drowned in that river.

Northern Lights

"Welcome to North Bay. Gateway to the North". This was written on a stone monument at the edge of town. I saw the Northern Lights here for the first time. Cam Horvath had Dorothy trained well. He loved to party with some grass & Dorothy scored a couple of joints for him somewhere. I toked socially in high school. At university, my roommate & I once bought some. For awhile, I toked somewhat regularly when I gave up cigarettes for six months during 1976. Once I got back on the Craven Menthols, I found I didn't need grass to get by. But I made the odd exception. I'd come to see lots of pot in the CAF.

Cam didn't have a car up here, having flown up. So we ended up going for a ride in my Mustang. Clever Trevor was known to have a toke or two, and joined us. Dot decides to drive as we gentlemen are pissed. Doing a joint on base wasn't wise. It was the first time I was in the back seat of that car, at least while it was moving. Dorothy takes us off base (top down) and we drive into the blackness of the countryside, the cool night breeze in our faces. Cam is passing around the lit joint & saying "isn't this great", as embers fly everywhere. Meanwhile, Dot is struggling with something on my car. With the seat pulled forward, it keeps unlocking when we hit a bump. We pull over. Away from the city lights, the Northern Lights are very pronounced. It's beautiful & we're awestruck as we take turns at the cannabis. Cam & I start on our Exorcist routines, where we mimic lines from the movie. "The power of Christ doesn't compel anyone". "Fuck me Jesus, fuck me". "Your mother's in here", "Domi why for you do this to me", and other lines in our best Linda Blair voice. Trevor laughs uncontrollably & begins to snort. With the joints consumed, Dot takes us home to the base. We were totally wasted. Another operation successfully completed. Why didn't we just go to the cottage? Was the rental over? If we had, I would have missed the light show.

Keystone Island

The morning of our group trip aboard the Chief Commanda arrives. Naturally, Cam & I are hung over from the previous night's festivities. We're feeling a bit queasy on the initial portion of the sail. The boat is rocking. One of the guys, an older black reservist, is standing on deck smoking a pipe. He's oblivious to the motion, having great sea legs. He tells me that he once was in the merchant marine, so this is old hat for him. Eventually, the ride smoothens out as we reach more sheltered waters. The mood aboard is one of excitement. We have a large contingent present & the beer has begun to flow. Roly Revel, Base Photographer Wendy Gates & myself, take a lot of photos.

The boat pulls up to a dock at Keystone Island. We pour out. There's nothing really special about the island. It's rather small & the only thing there beside the dock is a cottage that we have use of for our stay. We've brought coolers with beer & food. Time to party.

Rick Folker & buddy Pete have brought the powerboat over to provide water skiing for the more adventurous. Chip Ray strips down to his jockey shorts & gives it a whirl. We get word that Debbie Giroux has been promoted to an Officer. Colin Stearman & I decide that she should be baptized. We pick her up & take her to the edge of the rocks to pitch her into the drink. As we fling her, I lose my footing (alcohol surely wasn't a factor) and both Debbie & I go for a swim. Many people went swimming, but not in their street clothes. It will take some time for us to dry out.

Making music!

There was no shortage of entertainment. Besides bringing Monika, Chas Horvath brought his violin. Rick Kurtzer & Captain Honig took turns playing a guitar. Rick was a nice guy. He was once in the Junior Ranks, but became our squadron Engineering Officer. He had to maintain a certain distance, but this was one of those times where he loosened up & became one of the boys again. Rick played me a version of Mason William's "Classical Gas". They played various songs but when they got into some of our dirty squadron tunes, we joined in.

Chas also brought along a unique red Molson apron. It had a bottle opener attached to an appendage that looked like a dong. Kevin Lockett took a fancy to this apron. The appendage was stroked vigorously during a rendition of the squadron's interactive song "Swing Low Sweet Chariot". Right on cue during the "cuming for to carry me home" part.

Once the intoxication factor was sufficient, it was decided that a group photo was in order. Not just your standard type of photo but a "Squadron Moon". Those that were game assembled, turned, and whipped down their clothing, while the shutters snapped. The Base Photographer was most amused. As one of our songs stated, "400 Squadron's a hell of a place". The Banzai Bonnets continued to make an appearance. Joanne "The Groupie" was kept occupied by all the Big Brothers. We ate, continued to drink & the day passed. Later, I strummed the guitar quietly in the cottage. Someone took a snap of me & that photo became one of my favourite portraits. I honestly cannot remember the boat ride back. They say getting there is half the fun. Sometimes, it's all the fun.

Not everyone made the boat trip. My buddy Andy for one. He must have had alternate plans with Cheryl. Gary LePere & Trevor Giroux were also absent. Wild Bill Khyber & Wally Sweetman missed the boat. They had official business with the militia. Apparently, they were flying grunts to some exercise area that day. The militia were camped near a hilly field. Wally was always up for a challenge. Somebody didn't think he could put the plane down in that area. Well, that settled it. According to Bill, they flew low & slow over the tree tops, Sweetman stalling the plane so it came down between two small hills in a gully. Practically no ground roll. No damage to the aircraft but one grunt Sergeant complained of a sore back after the hard landing. They said it couldn't be done.

Wally was a colouful guy. He later was certified on helicopters and then joined the Regular Force. Years later, I was reading the newspaper & was shocked to read that he died in a Sea King crash. There was controversy surrounding the story, as his mom was quoted as saying that Wally complained about the safety of those helicopters on a number of occasions. They were supposed to have been replaced by the Mulrooney government but Chretien's Liberals got in & canceled the new choppers. They're still flying them to this day. Sometimes you pay the ultimate price if you're a CAF pilot. Not from combat but from accidents. They didn't call the Starfighter "The Widowmaker" for nothing. I've often thought that if I went for pilot training, I could be dead now.

End Game

With the camp over, almost everyone had gone. I recall Jillian (a girl that Al Cooper had a fling with, better known as "Gilligan") & myself packing up gear. Neither of us were happy about it. I'd be continuing my full-time work with the RSU back in Toronto. But there was an empty feeling with the camp being over. The previous year I was sad that the camp was done. This time, I really didn't want to go back to Toronto. Of course, it was impossible to stay & it wouldn't be the same if I did.

Still, we assumed that we'd be back to North Bay the following year. We didn't know that this would be the last Summer Camp for a bit & the last one at an air force base. We were on the verge of major changes. I know there was disappointment in the late 1950's when our squadrons switched from being part of Air Defence Command of the RCAF to transport duties. We went from being supersonic with armed Sabres to the more mundane & slower flying of the Otters. Another blow to the Air Reserve occurred in 1964, when the Reserve lost a number of squadrons & most of its personnel. The next year, the Air Force lost its monthly magazine "The Roundel" after 17 years of publication. The Army & Navy also lost their magazines & a new unified publication; "The Sentinel" was born. Perhaps this was a precursor to unification. When unification happened a couple of years later, the RCAF lost its blue uniforms and its identity. This was a pity as around 1958, the RCAF was the largest of the three services, with some 51,000 people in uniform, and having about 4000 aircraft of all types, with numerous squadrons of modern fighters. It was a world air power. The Army & Navy retained their head quarters under unification. The former proud RCAF didn't even have a HQ until the formation of Air Command in the mid 1970's! The green uniforms had been around for a decade, so my generation didn't know any different. But old-timers still lamented the loss of their blues & rank structure.

The last CF-100's at North Bay would be retired a couple of years after that camp, as would our long serving Otters. No longer would the sound of those powerful Orenda jet engines be heard over the city. The only reminders of the Clunks are those on static display, like 18626 which is mounted in Lee Park. I drove past it many times during my adventures there in North Bay. No squadrons fly in North Bay these days. Much of the base is now gone. According to Al Cooper, who lives there, much of the SAGE function has been moved to the surface. Bombardier uses the hangars for building water bombers to fight forest fires. Canada wasn't the only one down-sizing. The British RAF retired their Vulcan bombers in the early 1980's. The Royal Navy also phased out its large aircraft carriers. It seems that military aviation in the entire British Commonwealth was a dying priority & expensive proposition.

I'm happy for my time there, when Clunks & Otters flew. The evolution towards "army" away from "air force" would continue with time. But there would still be more adventures to come. The ride home was lonely. On Monday morning I'd start a new chapter at the Downsview hangars.

RSU Photo Tech Rollie Reeves took photos of summer camp, along with the Base Photographer, and a spread appeared in the North Bay base newspaper. These are scans from that article. Rollie recently found my defunct website & emailed me. He retired in 1983. Likes to photo trains & currently lives in Calgary. He'd forgotten some of the things from those RSU days & I was glad to remind him!

Chapter 7: Doing The RSU Shuffle