Carleton University - Raven Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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30 Carleton College Year Book 1944-45 Glad to have met you. When you get to England, watch out for the family ghost. Give my regards to your father. Good luck! Thank you, sir, Bentham said and turn- ing about, he left the room. Pk Sf Ulf Ulf It was nearing midnight of a day in the late spring of 1941 at a lonely spot on the south-east coast of England. The tide was in, and the restless waters of the North Sea lapped high up on the rugged shore-line. Instead of the usual dense fog and cold, pene- trating rain, the weather was fine and the air bracing, with only the occasional patch of drifting mist. At times a full moon peeped out through the clouds, throwing into bold relief the entire scene in every detail. The most prominent object was a round Martello tower about forty feet in height and twenty feet in diameter, built of solid stone. Its imposing silhouette symbolized Britain at bay, although it had been pat- terned after the fortress at Cape Mortella, in Corsica, which resisted the English fleet in 1794. It had been erected at the beginning of the nineteenth century for the defence of the Realm. Many others .had been built then at strategic points along the east and south coasts, but most of them have long ago fallen into ruin. Two sentries in modern battle-dress, each carrying a bayonetted rifle at the slope, could be seen pacing their beats. These beats ex- tended about 200 yards in opposite directions from the tower. Each sentry marched to the limit of his beat where he met the sentry of the adjoining guard, then on returning they met in front of the tower. The Martello tower, now the guard-house of the -th Battery, R.C.A., was completely blacked out. The old entrance, about twenty feet from the ground, and attainable only by means of a drawbridge, had been bricked up and a new one forced at the ground level. Inside the door hung a blackout curtain: the trap-door and winding staircase leading to the roof, where a century ago a single tra- versing gun had been mounted, had been changed into a light-proof ventilator. Not a pin-prick of light escaped. Inside the guard-room all was quiet. On palliasses around the room several men slept peacefully, their kits and rifles beside them. The only light came from the glow- ing charcoal embers in a brazzer in the middle of the circular room. By the fire, on upturned boxes, sat an N.C.O. and two meng they were fully dressed, even to the tin hat. The N.C.O. looked at his watch and addressed one of the men: Bentham, you came up to relieve the man who went sick tonight-have you ever been on this guard before? No, Corporal, this will be my first trick. Well, here are your orders. You will take the south beat, your limit is the little sentry-box, where you will meet the sentry of the next guard. This week that section is held by an English home ,defence bat- talion. You will stay about five minutes. at that post and must contact the English sentry. If he is not there, wait for him in the sentry- box. There is a lookout in each side of it. so you will be able to see in either direction. Is that clear? Perfectly, replied Bentham. Of course, added the N.C.O., you will challenge all persons who approach your beat, report the approach of enemy aircraft or any craft by water and, above all, keep your eye skinned for the orderly officer. He looked at his watch again. l All right, boys. Time's up. Let's go! Bentham had mounted guard. He leaned on his rifle in front of the old tower. The sky was quickly becoming overcast, the fog was thickening. There was a light wind blowing in his face and the air had a strong, salty tang. He watched the dark waters tumble up on shore, then gurgle back among the rocks to meet the next breaker. The waves came in with a crash and went out with a hiss. Long strings of seaweed hung from the partly submerged barbed-wire en- tanglementsg they swayed back and forth with the ebb and flow. Bentham looked out across the sea and thought of the terrible scourge that was sweeping the Continent. It could happen here. Would barges filled with Hun troops float across these waters some dark night? Would the Nazi soldiers clamber up these rocks and overrun the fair fields of Eng- land? . . . Britain had been unmolested for a thousand years. Napoleon never attempted the invasion he had planned. But these shores at that time had been scrupulously guarded . . . And perhaps the sentry at this place-on this very spot . . . Gunner Bentham brought his rifle up to the slope, turned right, and made his way along the beaten path. When he reached the sentry-box, Ben- tham noticed that it was occupied. He could dimly see the profile of a grizzled home- guarder framed in the diamond-shaped open- ing. It was wonderful how these courage- ous oldsters drawn from every station of rank and fortune had responded to their country's call! They had left office, factory, shop or a well-earned retirement to don the khaki and take their place on the home front in defence of their Blessed Isle. They en- dured with dogged stoicism all the rigours and hardships of a soldier's life. Bentham drew close to the sentry-box. Good night, sir, he said, respectfully. He waited a moment, but there was no reply. Again he spoke, this time, louder: I say, old soldier! But there was no response. Not a sound broke the eerie stillness but the crash and swish of the waves upon the

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32 Carleton College Year Book 1944-45 rocks. And Bentham had that strange feel- ing of unreality-as if watching a scene in a play or living again some familiar experi- ence that had happened in another life and in another age. He had a curious pre- monition. Then the fog lifted momentarily. The moon squinted down through a break in the clouds. Its ghostly rays filtered through the window in the sentry-box. Bentham caught his breath. The man inside was wearing a faded scarlet tunic with blue facings and epaul- ettes! On his head was a bearskin shako with a metal plate and cockade in front! His hollow cheeks had a curious pallor! A sudden panic seized the young soldier. He broke out in a cold, clammy sweat. He trembled from head to foot. Words he tried to utter dried in his throat, his breath came in short, rasping gasps. Instinctively he took a quick step back- wards, but his heel struck a boulder and he pitched heavily to the ground. His head struck a huge rock and all went black. When Bentham regained consciousness, a figure was bending over him. His head ached dully, but the sight of the wizened faoe beneath the ancient headgear brought him back with a jerk. Cautiously he reached out and touched the sleeve of the faded -red tunic. It was rough and course-it felt real! Are you-are you my great-grand- father? he asked, in a hoarse whisper. Wot's that, m'lad'? Speak up. I'm a bit deef, said a rough, kindly voice. The young Canadian repeated his ques- tion. Til-ze it easy, lad, you've 'ad a nasty crack. You'll be all right in a minute. But who are you? persisted Bentham. Me? I'm one o' the blokes in the 'Ome Guards. The Home Guards?-but the uniform- why are you wearing that uniform? A hollow laugh came from the old soldier. Looks a bit ridiculous, don't it? But after all, with the shortage of khaki' as it is. we old 'uns just got to be satisfied to wear our old territorial dress uniforms for a spell. 1 To The l by J. F. Today we stand on the brink of victory and the threshold of a new world. The his- tory of our institution is so recent that we cannot think of its past and traditions. Let us then look to the future of our alma mater. In the post-war era, the responsibility of Ottawa as the seat of our democratic way of life will be increased and intensified. We can expect to see her emerge a more beautiful, stately and important capital of Canada. What is more natural and necessary to the nucleus of a great democracy than a centre of higher learning, where the minds of Canadians can be trained to the fulfilment of the added continental and social duties of Canada after this war? Carleton College may well serve such a purpose. To do justice to a more il- lustrious Ottawa, it is not the college of to- day but the university of tomorrow which is visualized. The students must do their part to parallel the growth of Carleton College with that of its birthplace. However, it is upon us of the present that its future largely de- pends. This does not mean the members of the executive only, or even the student body, but every conscientious Canadian, whose in- terest should be the advancement of knowl- edge. It is upon our shoulders, therefore, to initiate a course of action which will even- Future Skeod tually bear fruit in the form of a healthy university with high ideals, high educational standards and the respect of its contem- porariesg a university of diversified learning attracting students from all parts of Canadag in short, a Canadian university serving Cana- dians as Ottawa serves Canada. It must be our policy in the future to adopt a distinctly dynamic attitude towards student governments and student organizations. No college will progress where the students at- tend only to acquire knowledge without ren- dering in exchange their appreciation of the efforts of the faculty. In the past, student government has suffered from lack of in- terestg in the future let each of us share in the task. Every student is a potential build- ing block of Carleton College and our uni- versity will be founded upon these students. In conclusion, it has been our privilege to be the first of thousands who will pass through Carleton College. As such, we are its cornerstone, and we must be worthy of this honour. We must begin today, for The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly and lo! The Bird is on the wing.