True and Fascinating Canadian History
Tales from Fort Healy
Stable Flies Frozen & Fossilized By A Voice
by J. J. Healy
A week or so after the grave dig in August 1964, my second encounter with Corporal Jessiman was in the stables.
It was widely known among the recruits at 'Depot', that one would hear Corporal Jessiman's voice long before his actual corpus appeared on site. In part, he was known for having a spectacular command of the English language and its variables. Some words, let's say, were meant just for men and for deaf horses.
Corporal Jessiman did not hesitate inserting these short putts into most of his sentences. His vocabulary, abrupt, split sentences, colourful adjectives and their connotation were not the same, let's say, as those words used extensively in a theology school setting. The stables, in those days, were affectionately hailed as horseland while Canadians knew the place as 'Depot'.
As luck would have it, prior to joining the Force, I had served four years in the Canadian Militia. I had become accustomed to dunny vocabulary in army life so its shock value had since worn off. But some recruits were not so accustomed and others were distracted or in mild distress. Yet, raw vocabulary is the language of the police officer's landscape on the street and, to my knowledge, no recruits fainted within earshot of Cpl. Jessiman. The Riding Instructors likely thought that it was best for naive recruits to hear some slanted words at 'Depot' prior to a police officer hitting the street.
And so it was. Before a day or two had passed at 'Depot, I had helped dig a hole with some of my pals and I had stood in a grave which measured six feet deep. And now for the first time, 'G' Troop had been assigned to stables duties. It was 6AM.
On this introductory morning in the stables, I was in a stall with the horse which had been assigned to me. I was nervous. The horse was nervous. The horse had eaten breakfast but I had not. The horse had hair and I had very little. But, I was determined to repeat the grooming instructions exactly as I had been taught a few minutes earlier.
I touched Honey softly like she was my pet. Another more experienced recruit, whom I didn't know, was in the stall next to mine. He exhibited confidence by instructing his horse to move this way and that way to facilitate its grooming all over. I wanted to be like my neighbour and talk with my horse. For the present, I quietly began to groom Honey with long, even strokes. Actually, in hindsight, I had had only enough time to take one stroke with the brush and to spot two important visible parts of the horse -- its front and its rear. All of a sudden, lightening arced then jigged and jagged. The stables became charged!
Suddenly, out of the mist of the early morning's manure strode Cpl. Jessiman. His approach was as silent as a guided drone and his voice cracked the stable's chilly air. He needed a strike. The missile was desperate for a fix then he spotted me. Without missing a step or slowing his stride, he aimed his moustache straight at me and shouted "Hey you! Put that *#*@# collar on that +*&*#+ horse before **#+@ bites!" I had one flash second to spot the drone. Horse flies in the vicinity were fossilized. Corporal Jessiman had struck. Then he disappeared.
I followed the line of his pointed finger and I spotted a thick circular leather collar high above the stall me on a hook. The strike took its toll, and mild shock had set in. My horse's knees quaked so I dropped my grooming brush. I jumped, startled, but my boots stuck to the straw. His voice was frightening. The stable dog, Trixie pee'd and pee'd without knowing the reason. Computers went down.
Immediately there was loud laughter all around. Recruits in the vicinity of my stall got the joke on me. It was the drone's after effect that Cpl. Jessiman had thirsted for.
The recruit in the adjoined stall could not stop laughing. But, he stepped in to save me. He knew it was safe. Cpl. Jessiman had not stopped to assess any damage -- a missile cannot stop itself once it's in flight. This drone vanished down the corridor. Perhaps looking to strike again. He did not capture my reaction but everyone else had. I was the first in the Troop to receive Cpl. Jessiman's compliments. Eventually, everyone in the Troop swallowed a drip or two of his medicine.
In the midst of his laughs, the recruit explained that the leather collar on the hook was not intended for my horse's mouth, but instead for one of his hoofs. My horse had a habit of kicking his neighbour hence the collar requirement. I quickly put the collar on my horse's right lower leg.
The drone episode was over. Unquestionably Cpl. Jessiman had gotten the best of me. After that, I made sure that any horse which I managed wore its appropriate guards before grooming began.
I loved all the activities related to horses at 'Depot' but equitation was not an easy game. I was sore from the ground up like everyone in the Troop but I did not get injured in the stables or at any time during recruit training. The horses could be a frightening part of the syllabus and no doubt the majority of serious injuries to recruits were received in the stables.
To prevent injuries, I listened carefully to the instructions which were given and I didn't take any chances. I kept alert for the possibility of a horse shifting its weight to eliminate it from stepping on my foot. I always walked in front of a horse rather than risk a kick to the chest. Caring for over 100 horses and stable duty several times each day was dangerous for every recruit and very, very hard work.
As the years rolled along in my career, I often thought of my introductory morning in the Stables, the unexpected flash meeting with Cpl. Jessiman and the trick he played on me. Flies had been fossilized by his voice on the Stables window panes.
At 'Depot' one needed a laugh. After 40 years, I remembered these episodes and I too was able to laugh. Cpl. Jessiman made the whole experience worthwhile.
Corporal Jessiman had not been assigned to 'G' Troop as our principal Riding Instructor -- that job fell to Sergeant 'Harry' Armstrong. But he was constantly in the stables. His style made him one of the most popular Instructors at 'Depot'. He was hilarious when an occasion arose to pull one over on a new recruit such as me. He acted gruff but his reputation as an Instructor was exceptional. I count myself lucky to have met him. He possessed a great sense of humour which tended to break the uneasiness of the Stable's atmosphere where uneasy horses were stalled.
And I have fond memories of him.
Reporting from Fort Healy,
J. J. Healy
April, 2006
