The First Snow of Winter

by Fred Allen

  Then Father O’Brien had a talk with Sharkey and found, to his initial surprise, that Sharkey seemed to be quite receptive to the idea of emigrating. On further reflection the good Father reached the reasonable conclusion that Sharkey had achieved his objective with the beautiful Kathleen. This conclusion was proven accurate some time later when he was faced by an irate Joseph Maguire, and his dreams of a tranquil retirement were barely saved by very sensitive negotiations and a speedily arranged marriage.

  Father O’Brien arranged for the sale of Bridget’s property to Joseph Maguire who needed the additional space to meet the needs of an imminent addition to his family. He also booked passage for Sharkey from Belfast to Quebec City and Bridget’s move to Dublin. The good Father only now could sit back in his big chair in Maguire’s pub satisfied that his dream was saved as he cast a knowing eye over the expanding girth of the lovely Kathleen, and accepting the homage of the grateful publican which was always offered in the form of double measures of Jamieson’s special old Irish whiskey occasionally washed down by pints of Guinness.

  It was early in 1927 when a twenty-seven year old Sharkey arrived in Toronto after a pleasant crossing from Belfast during which, despite a third class ticket, he had spent most of his time in first class salons, where his vigor and vitality delighted several unaccompanied ladies and one accompanied socialite. This lady’s irate husband threatened dire consequences and appeared to have the political clout to make Sharkey’s future in Canada both very unpleasant and, with a threat of deportation, very short.

  Accounts of Sharkey’s shipboard activities preceded him to Toronto. In addition, Father O’Brien’s old colleague had been briefed in considerable detail about the various attributes of his guest. Father Sheehan realized that the situation demanded action and he made immediate arrangements for a job for Sharkey in a mine in Kirkland Lake which was just about as far from Toronto as possible given Ontario’s gradual northern development.

  Sharkey spent twelve years in Northern Ontario, with stops in the Tri-Towns, Timmins, Kirkland Lake and, as the paper industry opened up in non mining centers, stops in Kapuskasing, North Bay, Sault Ste Marie and the twin cities of Fort William and Port Arthur. His employment was, for the most part, in the mines and the pulp and paper operations with occasional stints as bar tender and/or bouncer. He established a great reputation as a worker but an even greater reputation as a hell raiser. To say that he was known to law enforcement agencies would have been an understatement. However, nearly all these offences involved disturbing the peace and the only felony on his rap sheet was a ninety day sentence for “high grading” in Kirkland Lake.

  His abrasive nature attracted few friends, but there were those who, in appreciation of his no nonsense, straight talking approach to life, became close and loyal friends. He retained his love for physical action, and his friends oft quoted examples of his prowess in bar brawls where he had few equals, both as a participant and as a loyal supporter. His rap sheet included many instances of bar and street brawls where he had stood before the judge and quietly accepted the consequences of his actions. Never once, when he had been represented by counsel, had he mentioned his war record. This was surprising in that the mere mention of “veteran” would often elicit sympathetic treatment from magistrates, many of who were veterans themselves. But while accepting the consequences of his actions without question, Sharkey still retained the unspoken complaint. He just couldn’t understand why he was now being punished for the same activities which a few years before had earned him promotions and decorations.

  Sharkey’s big problem was that he was suited by neither temperament nor abilities to peacetime life. There were just no wars in the 1920s that were easily accessible. He gave fleeting thought to the French Foreign Legion, but he had no great affection for the French, women excluded, of course. Also the heat and sand of the Sahara and other tropical countries where the Legion operated were not that attractive. Besides, Sharkey decided that Middle-Eastern customs, religious taboos and female clothing in those regions, presented greater challenges than North American mores, less demanding religious dictums and more accessible clothing in his constant attempts to attain what he referred to as primary objectives.

  Sharkey’s attraction to the opposite sex and the attraction of the fair sex to him was not that easy to understand. This tall, slim-even thin-Irishman with the shiny bald head represented a near fatal attraction for most women. There were broken hearts throughout Northern Ontario and not a few broken heads of boy friends and husbands who sought to protect their interests. And also, while no statistics could be compiled with any degree of accuracy, his proven virility would appear to indicate that in sewing his wild oats the prayer for a failure of crops was not always heeded.

  In the 30’s Sharkey’s attention was drawn to the Civil War in Spain and he actually accompanied a group of similarly interested young men from Kirkland Lake to Montreal to offer their services to the Loyalists. The statements of Loyalist supporters expressing heated anti-Fascist sentiments were largely lost on Sharkey who had great difficulty in understanding just what such long-winded philosophical statements had to do with fighting for one side or the other. In fact, Sharkey had become deeply confused by the long-winded idealistic and philosophical discussions on the long train ride down to Montreal from the Tri-towns. Sharkey was just looking for a war and had not given much consideration to which side he wanted to join. His dilemma illustrated the truth of Father O’Brien’s oft stated opinion that the only reason the Shawkey brothers fought with the British Army in France was that it would have been a little more difficult to reach the recruiting offices in Germany.

  The venture to Montreal ended with Sharkey being sentenced to thirty days for disturbing the peace. He had been sitting bareheaded in a bar when a slightly inebriated patron had rubbed his polished head with his hand announcing that this was for “bonne chance”.

  In September 1939, Canada, exercising its newly acquired national identity, declared war on Germany. There was some recruiting in Timmins and North Bay but Sharkey was afraid that in the early stages of the war the units would be on the lookout for applicants with criminal records who might be potential agitators. Sharkey packed quickly, making sure that he included his discharge papers and his medals, and traveled overnight to Montreal. On arrival he went directly to the Armories where one of Canada’s most famous infantry battalions was being mobilized. Sharkey was thirty-nine years of age and in surprisingly good physical shape considering the rather dissolute life style he had followed for a number of years. The recruiting officer looked him over very carefully because he was obviously at least ten to fifteen years older that anyone else in the long line of prospective recruits. Sharkey didn’t have a birth certificate so when asked for this important document he remembered the discharge papers in his small bag. Those documents would be complete in testimony of the thoroughness of British bureaucracy and sure enough they included his birth date… and they included much more. As the recruiting officer scanned the documents he first noted under rank and occupation at time of discharge “Drill Sergeant-Guards Depot and his eyes came to an abrupt halt as he reached the line defining entitlement to service medals and honors and awards. His eyes widened as he read “Distinguished Conduct Medal, Military Medal and Bar, and Mentioned-in-Dispatches” on three occasions and he looked up at Sharkey almost in disbelief.

  The recruiting officer directed that one of the NCOs take over for him as he asked Sharkey to accompany him to the battalion office. The Commanding

  Officer and two of the company commanders and RSM were there and there was an immediate huddle to examine Sharkey’s documents. Sharkey saw them repeatedly turning their heads to examine him as he stood just inside the office door. Sharkey’s acceptance was decided in a matter of minutes, and the RSM and one of the company commanders were detailed to take Sharkey immediately for medical examination. The company commander was instructed to brief th
e Medical Officer very carefully and make sure he saw Sharkey’s service documents.

  The Medical Officer was suitably impressed. He had a few questions about various scars on Sharkey’s torso but as to thoroughness, the complete medical examination resembled those that Sharkey had heard about where they don’t really examine your eyes they just count them.

  The Company commander gave a few terse instructions to the RSM who Sharkey now accompanied to the unit orderly room and where the RSM advised the chief clerk that Sharkey was to be taken on strength effective that day and was to be promoted to Sergeant as of the same date. Sharkey then visited the Quartermaster and was issued with full kit. They then visited the unit tailor who noted all the required alterations to the uniforms and was instructed that the uniforms, including badges of rank, were to be regarded as a top priority. The tailor was instructed to acquire the required medal ribbons from a local outfitter and have them mounted on the uniforms. The tailor advised that the uniforms would be ready by late afternoon.

  The next stop was the Sergeant’s Mess where they were met by the Battalion Second-in-Command who, with the aid of the RSM, gave Sharkey a brief history of the unit and a modest advance from unit funds. A room was arranged at an inexpensive small hotel near the Armories and Sharkey was instructed to return for his uniforms later in the day and report to the RSM at 2 p.m. the following day.

  The Commanding Officer rejoiced in having found a “front rank” candidate in the first day of recruiting and also a potential drill instructor with seven years employment between the prestigious Guards Depot and one of the Guards Battalions. While he wondered for a moment as to just what Sergeant Patrick O’Brien Shawkey, late of the Brigade of Guards, had been doing in Canada for the past twelve years, he was confident that as rusty as Sharkey might be, he would be far superior to the crew of “retreads” that were already members of the regiment but of doubtful availability because of age, physical condition or both.

  Sharkey took his place at the recruiting desk the following day after devoting many hours to preparing his new uniform, with special care to his boots and in these efforts those ninety days of training in the Glass House in 1917 paid significant dividends in producing razor sharp creases and a mirror like shine. “Spit and Polish” is how the career soldier referred to the gleaming result to which could be added the most important ingredient “elbow grease”.

  Any questions as to the propriety of the newly recruited Drill Sergeant occupying such a prominent place in the battalion’s mobilization efforts were quickly silenced by a quick look at the first two ribbons on his chest, the DCM, MM with Bar and the three small symbols clamped on three of his service ribbons denoting he had also been mentioned in dispatches on three occasions.

  By coincidence, during the second day on the desk, the already imposing Sharkey dealt with inquiries from a rather pleasant, good looking young man, who to Sharkey’s trained eye looked to be a very promising recruit. This well dressed and clean-shaven young man stood out from the rather motley line of applicants, and was quickly accepted and added to the line-up for processing. The name Peter Marshall meant absolutely nothing to Sharkey at this point. He had no way of knowing of the important part Peter would play in his life nor just how much he would influence the remainder of that young man’s life.

  Peter had arrived in Montreal a very unhappy young man. Had it not been for the outbreak of war his circumstances were such that he would have been the ideal candidate for the French Foreign Legion. Peter was a young man on the rebound. After many protestations of eternal love, his one and only love, Connie Thompson, had announced her engagement to Colin Russel, son of one of the Fredericton’s leading solicitors and now undergoing pilot training with the Royal Canadian Air Force. There had been absolutely no advance warning except that Connie, quite suddenly, was not returning his calls. Accepting the inevitable, Peter had withdrawn his savings and taken the overnight train to Montreal, telling his brother and parents that he just wanted to get away for a while.

  He had arrived in Montreal earlier in the day and his first idea had been to hit the bars when they opened and get roaring drunk. That seemed to be one of the traditional prescriptions for a broken heart. After trying two taverns he found that, even with his high school French, he was unable to persuade waiters that he was of legal drinking age. After his second rejection he noticed a long line of men outside an armories where signs were displayed encouraging all patriotic Canadians to enlist to save freedom from the Fascists. The possibilities of a new course of action slowly crossed his mind. He would show the faithless Connie! He would show them all! He would enlist and go to war against the Nazis. Perhaps he would be seriously wounded or give his life for his country. Then she would be sorry. His usually calm and logical mind had been totally overcome by the pain in his heart.

  He approached a tall slim sergeant in front of the recruiting table. This sergeant was exactly what he had expected from his exposure to war movies with his immaculately pressed uniform, highly polished leather bandoleers, gleaming black boots and two rows of colorful ribbons on his chest. The sergeant was polite and informative and escorted Peter to the head of the line where the recruiting officer immediately took down all of Peter’s personal information and he was escorted directly to the medical officer. This seemingly special treatment left little opportunity for any doubts to take shape in Peter’s mind.

  Much later, when Sharkey came into his life as a major influence, he would remind Sharkey of that first meeting and accuse him of taking advantage of a young inexperienced boy; his actions had not been totally unlike the tactics of the Royal Navy press gangs of earlier times.

  It was several days before he got up nerve to call his parents. In the meantime, he acquired his uniform which had been borrowed from the Non Permanent Active Militia and bore little resemblance to that worn by the recruiting sergeant who had met him outside the recruiting office. However, the uniform did solve the age problem at the taverns where he and his newly established comrades were welcomed with open arms and large bottles of beer.

  The beer generated the courage to call his parents. They were proud of his decision but expressed the wish that he had waited until after his first year in university and then applied for officer training. He gave them all the detailed information they could use in writing to him and fervently hoped that they would pass this information on to Connie so she would know that he had taken everything in his stride and was getting on with life. Other news included that his brother Paul had been accepted for pilot training with the Royal Canadian Air Force.

  Connie also had a major role in Peter’s second encounter with Sharkey. She had called him when he was home on embarkation leave some months later and tearfully apologized for ever getting involved with Colin Russel when Peter was the only one that she really loved. Peter did not require a great deal of convincing. He was still in love with her and even refused her offer to prove her love for him in a very special way. Always the gentleman, Peter told her they should wait, that it was really something worth waiting for. He realized much later that he had missed the opportunity that would probably have revealed that the proof she offered him had been offered and fully investigated by others probably including Colin Russel. As she said goodbye at the station there were further protestations of her love for him and promises that she would wait for him forever.

  During the following year there were frequent letters from Connie all expressing her undying love and these epistles were read over and over again. One year after arriving in England Peter had been promoted to Corporal and had become a highly competent wireless operator. He had been posted to Brigade Headquarters where he was the personal driver and wireless operator for the Brigade Major. The Brigade Major was very impressed with his young driver who had topped his junior NCO course and had also finished with the highest marks in his signaler’s course. Young Cpl Marshall had been identified as officer material and the pro
cess had gone as far as a successful appearance before the Brigade Officer Selection Committee.

  On what turned out to be a fateful Friday for Peter, he received letters from his parents and a parcel of goodies but was a little disappointed that there was not a letter from Connie. She was now in Washington having volunteered for service with the Canadian Embassy after a short period of employment as a stenographer in Ottawa. Her letters were full of exciting accounts of life in wartime Washington but always full of her assurances that her love was only for him.

  Being payday and Friday, training ended early in the afternoon and Peter busied himself with letters to his parents and Connie. He told them of his progress towards officer training and that the next step would be a week at the Officer Selection Unit but he had every reason to be optimistic after being only one of the two successful candidates recommended by the Brigade Officer Selection Committee from a field of twenty. The most important feature of the officer selection process would be that all successful candidates would return to Brockville in Canada for their officer training.

  When he had finished his letters he took them over to the Mail Orderly’s office and was delighted to find there actually had been a letter from Connie that had become mixed up with someone else’s mail. He rushed back to his bunk in a Quonset hut to read Connie’s letter. The first paragraph hit him like a ton of bricks. She had met an American Marine captain in Washington and they had fallen hopelessly in love and would be married by the time Peter received this letter. Tears welled up in Peter’s eyes. Fortunately it had been payday and just about everyone was out on the town. There was nobody in the hut to witness his tears or hear his repeated muttering of “Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! You’ve done it to me again!” The happiness of the day now vanished and all of his plans to return to Canada for officer training and, perhaps, even marriage to Connie, had been totally wiped out by the opening paragraph of her letter. However, it was her final paragraph that really stuck in his craw. “Peter,” she said, “you are the most wonderful person I have ever known and I know you will be only happy for us……….” As he tore up her letter he wished only that the pages represented her cheating heart and with his mind still reeling from the shock, he decided that he needed a drink or, to put it correctly, many drinks.