A screenplay by davebccanada
Dan's Story: Part 1
copyright 1999
Preamble:
This story will cover years in the lives of these newly weds so don't expect it to start off with wham bam sexual action. Give it time to build to that point and I guarantee you'll be satisfied. Bear with us to spend some time understanding the background.
Part 1
FRIDAY: 1500 HOURS
TIME: July 15, 1960. PLACE: Rural small town near RCAF base in Canadian Maritimes, Canadian Forces Base (CFB) Summerside, located on an island in the Atlantic shallows. Approaching the base by air in mid-summer one sees a runway that bisects the island with only room for a highway to pass at one end of it. The town of Summerside lies to the south of the base and one can see it has a very active harbor, with small fishing and lobster boats mixed with larger trawlers and a ferry to the mainland. Fields crowd up around the town indicating farming interests.
This is how our hero, Air Craftsman 1st Class (AC1) Dan Miller first sees the base. He's transferred to this station from 1st RADAR & COMMUNICATIONS SCHOOL (1R&CS), at RCAF Stn. Clinton in Ontario north of London. Dan, just turning 20 years of age, is recently married and will be seeking quarters for him and his bride, Marie, who is 21. She and Dan have enjoyed a year long relationship, since he came to the school, and while neither of them have extensive life experiences to prepare them for extended periods of time away from friends and family, they're optimistic that they'll be happy together.
As the aircraft, a two engine Dakota of W.W.II vintage and part of the backbone of Transport Command's workhorses, settles on the runway and turns onto the apron, the buildings of CFB Summerside begin to appear in the background. First the hangers, again as old as W.W.II, present themselves. White and green with large sectional rolling doors on either side and add-on sections at the front (facing the runways) of each. Weird aircraft are parked facing the runways in a row parallel to the hangers. They seem to have both jet pods and propellers on them and large bulbs under their noses like a pelican. They also have long stingers at their tail ends. Dan is soon to learn that they're P2V7s, or Neptunes, and they are the primary reason why he's here. At one side of the apron they pass a small two-engine bomber who also has a bulb under its nose but whose tail rests on the ground. It's done up in USA Navy colors and is much more at home on an aircraft carrier. This is his first view of a Tracker, a tiny sister to the Neptunes, that packs as much equipment and function into their small frames as the P2Vs.
Then they roll up to the tower and disembark. Loaded down with duffel bags and gear, Dan makes his way down onto the tarmac in time to hear a Sergeant call out for everyone to assemble in three ranks in front of the tower.
Sergeant: "Men, I want each of you to quickly take your baggage to the base of the tower and reassemble back here in two minutes! Move!"
Scurrying about like a hill of ants that has been stepped on, about eighteen fresh young men in smartly dressed but rankled uniforms stash their belongings at the base of the tower and turn back toward the tarmac.
Sergeant: "Move it! Move it! Move it! You should be back here by now. Three ranks! Dressing from the right! What are you doing there, little man. Leave it and get your butt over here! Now!"
Dan fits himself in the midst of the three ranks and watches the confusion around him. Some order takes shape and three ranks of six airmen in each appears.
A jet engine starts up somewhere between the hangers out of sight and the Sergeant screams over top of the noise, "Parade! Parade, attenhaw!" Everyone assumes the 'attention' position with stomach in, chest out, head up, shoulders back, feet together, toes pointing at 10 and 2-o-clock and hands pressed down at the sides, thumbs along the trouser seams in front and eyes straight ahead. "Parade, standat ease!" Immediately everyone moves their left foot out about 12 inches and clasps their hands behind their backs. Otherwise they do not move and are still 100% attentive for further commands. This is the 'at ease' position.
Sergeant: (yelling) "Gentlemen, we will wait a few minutes until that aircraft moves out to the runway before we proceed. Parade, stand easy!" Everyone relaxes and can move their hands but must remain where they are. Dan looks around and sees the bulbous nose of one of the Neptunes appear from between two hangers. The scream of the jet engines is deafening as it clears the row of hangers, but it turns towards the runway and starts moving away. He can see that the propeller on the port rotary engine is starting to roll over and sees before he hears the report of a backfire from the massive engine. The assembled men look in wonder at this massive plane rolling away from them and start chatting about it.
Sergeant: "Quiet down! Parade, attenhaw! You bunch of magpies will soon be sick of seeing those birds. Listen up now! That's the CO's car coming down the flight line. He will have a few words for you, and then we'll break off so you can load your gear into a truck that will be here shortly. I don't want to see anybody playing tourist. Load your gear, get on the truck and we'll go up to the mess hall. Now, look smart!" The Sergeant salutes a young Lieutenant who has joined them. They stand together talking and watching the approaching staff car.
Though the sun beats down, there is a stiff sea breeze kicking up bits of debris and loose sand around them, and they are not uncomfortably hot. One or two of the gathered men fidget noticeably, but while the Lieutenant glares at them, the Sergeant is preoccupied and says nothing. By a near hanger a few airmen in coveralls come out chatting and point at the assembled men on the tarmac. One waves but there is no indication at which one he is waving. No one moves as the black staff car stops in front of them. Out steps the driver and opens the door for the Commanding Officer (C.O. or CO), who joins the Sergeant and Lieutenant.
They salute and the Lieutenant steps forward to address the men. The wind catches the corner flap of his tunic and flips it up and down intermittently as he speaks. "Gentlemen. I'm Lt. John Cartier. I am in charge of the servicing department here at CFB Summerside and most of you will at some time, work for me. At this time I am here to introduce you to our Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Mark Bradley. Gentlemen, your CO..."
Lt.Col. Bradley: "Well fellows, welcome to CFB Summerside. I saw you had a gusty landing, you'll have to get used to that here. Wind only stops blowing so it can start from another direction, you know." There were a few dry chuckles from the Sergeant and Lieutenant. "You will find that the men you have to work with, and I proudly include myself, are a fine group, well trained and capable. As you have, no doubt, been told, ours is an active base participating in the role of patrolling the Atlantic coast of North America. Our aircraft are part of the NATO Maritime Command that monitors shipping, icebergs and submarine craft. That is part of you jolly chaps responsibility now. Keeping those aircraft flying. I look forward to meeting each of you individually in the near future as you pursue your goals in the RCAF and wish each of you a pleasant stay during your posting with us. Mr. Cartier, I see the truck has arrived to take these men up to the mess hall. I think you better get them on their way."
"Sir!" barks Lt. Cartier and nods to the Sergeant. He steps forward and addresses the men: "Alright! You know the drill, and no lollygagging around." He says as the staff car leaves. "Parade!", he calls, "Dismissed." And the group smartly turns to their right and break off moving to the base of the tower. Some chatting ensues but they all quickly load their gear into the stake truck and climb on.
Dan sits on his duffel bag next to Samuel (Sam) Guy Martin, who rests his long frame in a front corner of the bed of the truck. They have been together since basic training over two year ago in St. Jean, Quebec. Through basic, then 1R&CS they have stuck together and now they are posted to the same base. They are joined by a friendship that seems more like a family tie than buddies. Sam is from St. John, New Brunswick whereas Dan grew up in South Western Ontario near London. Sam is dry and quiet while Dan is more adventurous and outgoing, but Dan knows his moods better than anyone and has shared a few adventures with him.
Dan: "Well, what do you think? Looks like a pretty dull place to me. I only saw a small village as we were coming in." (then excitedly) "And did you see those planes? What beasts! Can't wait to go up in one of those! Do you think we'll get a chance?" The truck rumbles around the end of the hanger line and up an incline between white washed buildings. "That must be the mess hall up ahead," says Dan.
Sam had only grunted in response to his rambling questions. He now raises himself up and watches the approach to the mess hall. "Barracks over there." He pokes his elbow towards large white wooden barrack blocks with green trim. "Guess we're home!" That is his sole comment.
The Sergeant meets them on the steps in front of the mess. "O.K. fellows, its 1630 hours. The mess hall opens for supper at 1700 but we've arranged for you guys to eat early. Grab yourselves a bite and we'll get you settled into temporary quarters after supper. We'll meet by the truck at ...1730. Everybody got it. Don't be late! We won't wait!"
Sam: "Worse than my mother. Let's go."
Dan agrees and says, "I'm starving."
The guys crowd inside a foyer then left into a cafeteria-style dining room for up to about 250. They go to the end and get trays. Meatloaf or macaroni in meat sauce, mashed potatoes, three veggies (or stewed tomatoes), then deserts. There is fresh fruit, pastries, rice pudding or Jell-O. At the end is tea, coffee or milk. Dan loads up his tray and heads for a table. Sam follows him and sits to his right, grumbling, "What garbage!".
Dan's only comment is, "Let's eat."
After they've finished and deposited their dirty dishes and trays near the door, they step outside for a smoke. They watch the truck to see if the others are coming. "Here comes the Sarge!", says Sam and they fieldstrip their butts. Field stripping a cigarette butt is putting it out (usually on the sole of your boot), slicing it with a thumb nail and removing all the tobacco, letting the tobacco go into the grass and pocketing the paper and filter.
Sam and Dan join the others at the truck and they all climb on board. The Sergeant joins the driver and they pull away. At an H-hut adjoining the base hospital they are deposited and face rows of double bunks. Sam declares, "Back to basic training, eh?" and Dan laughs with him.
"Find yourselves a bunk", says the Sergeant, and give the Corporal here the number. This in Duncan McNiven, Corporal McNiven to you guys. Dunc, give them whatever help you can to get settled in and set them up with temporary duties for the weekend. They're all yours."