We stampeded into the barracks. The ceilings soared overhead, the floors were bare concrete, and there was a strange odour.
“What is that smell?” I asked.
“I think it’s two smells,” Jim said. “Disinfectant, maybe bleach, is one smell, and it’s there to cover up the other smell, which, as a farm boy, I’m very familiar with. It’s manure.”
“Manure! But why would it …” I let the sentence trail off as it all made sense. I realized what our barracks had actually been.
We were being housed in a building that used to hold livestock. In the centre there was a large open space extending up thirty or forty feet, probably where the show ring or arena had been, and there were hundreds and hundreds of bunk beds that had taken the place of the animal stalls. They’d removed the bars and boards and replaced them with beds, but the smell still lingered. We weren’t going to be sleeping in a barn but in a gigantic cow palace, a place where animals were exhibited at a fall fair.
Most of the beds were already in use, but we came to a whole section where the beds were unmade—blankets and sheets and pillows piled up at the end. We grabbed a bunk bed and Jim dropped his pack onto the bottom bunk while I tossed my valise up onto the top. For a second I thought about all that money in the bottom of my bag, but really there wasn’t time to do anything about it.
We got back outside in time to see that a line had already formed. Two airmen stood at the front, handing something out. We had no idea what it was for or about, but we knew enough to join in at the end, which quickly expanded as other “acey-deucies” settled in behind us.
“Gentlemen!” a sergeant yelled as he walked down the line. “You will receive a checklist when you get to the front of the line. On that list are seventy steps that you must complete before the day is out. Each of these steps is necessary and important. You can start at step number one and work your way through the list sequentially, but all that is important is that you complete all of the steps, not the order of the steps. Upon completion of each step, it will be duly initialled by the responsible airman. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” we all yelled back.
“If at the end of the day, you do not have your list completed and initialled, then you can safely assume you will be punished accordingly. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sergeant!”
We got to the front and the airman handed lists to both Jim and me, and we walked away. I looked down. The steps included getting our uniforms—that was steps one through twelve—having medicals, eye examinations, injections, and picking up equipment.
“What for goodness’ sake is a housewife?” Jim asked.
“Well … I guess it means a wife or—”
“No, no, it’s on the list … number thirty-seven: Pick up a housewife.”
I really didn’t know what to say about a housewife, but I was starting to think it might be nice to have my mother around.
“Are you two lost?” a sergeant bellowed in our faces.
“No, Sergeant, not lost, just thinking,” I replied.
“Thinking? Thinking!” he screamed. “You’re an acey-deucey! You are not allowed to think! You are not even capable of thinking! Follow the list, double time!”
We both jumped and ran off, not even knowing what direction we were heading but needing to get away from the sergeant as quickly as possible. Jim stopped and grabbed a guy who was walking by carrying a uniform.
“Which way are the uniforms, buddy?” he asked.
“Big building straight ahead, then turn hard to starboard.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I echoed.
I knew that starboard was right and port was left. I remembered that because left and port both had four letters.
We weren’t going to waste any more time. We ran to the building, bounded up the stairs, almost crashing into men coming out, and hung a tight right. We bumped into the back of a line of men waiting. Ahead I could see that people at the front were being issued their uniforms. We shuffled forward until we were next in line to be served.
“Size?” the airman behind the counter asked.
“Small.”
He looked up at me and smirked.“ We’ll do the best we can. You might have to use the housewife to do some alterations.”
“She’ll do that?” I asked.
“She won’t, but you can, with the things in the housewife.”
What was that supposed to mean?
The airman handed me my uniform: a pair of blue pants with matching jacket, shirt, tie, socks, and an RCAF wedge cap. The airman took the sheet and put his initials beside the appropriate lines to show that I’d been issued each part of my uniform.
I shuffled sideways to the next counter, where boots were being distributed.
“Size seven,” I said.
“Is that adult or children’s size he’s taking?” the airman two over said loudly, and his buddy beside him at the counter laughed.
I’d just about had enough. And I knew enough about both bullies and being smaller to know that this had to stop now.
“My feet are big enough to kick your butt!” I said.
The laughter stopped—as did all the other sounds around us. Nobody was talking or joking around any longer. Everybody was watching. A couple of the airmen between the two of us stepped aside. The guy who had made the comment wasn’t much older than me … but he was bigger.
“What’s wrong, buddy? You can’t take a little friendly joking around?” he asked.
“Get it right, you aren’t my friend.”
The man chuckled nervously. This wasn’t what he’d expected.
“We both came here to train to fight the Nazis,” I said. “I’d rather we don’t have to fight each other … but I will if I have to.”
“No offence, kid, I was just—”
“I’m not a kid. I’m an aircraftman two, an acey-deucey, just like you.” I stepped forward and held out my hand. “David McWilliams.”
“John McNabb,” he said as we shook.
“My friends call me Davie. Starting from now on, you can call me Davie.”
John smiled. “I get Johnnie. Pleased to meet you, Davie.”
The corporals behind the counter brought back some boots—a pair for me and another pair for Johnnie. I noticed that my new friend’s boots didn’t look much bigger than my sevens.
I started to try on the boots.
“Keep moving!” the corporal barked. “If they fit or don’t fit, it doesn’t matter. You asked for sevens and that’s what you got.”
The corporal initialled my sheet and we quickly moved off again.
“What’s next on the list?” Jim asked.
I looked down at the sheet. I didn’t like the look of it. The next five spaces simply said Inoculations—shots.
We followed behind the men leaving the area carrying their uniforms and newly issued boots. I looked at Jim’s new boots. They were so enormous I wondered if they’d even fit in the cockpit of a plane. Actually, would Jim fit in a cockpit?
Of course, I’d never been in the cockpit of a plane, but I knew from my father—who was big, but not nearly as big as Jim—that it was a very tight fit for him. Could Jim even be a pilot? But wait, there were other planes … Surely he’d fit in the cockpit of a Lancaster or another big bomber. Any plane that could carry twenty thousand pounds of bombs could certainly carry Jim.
We entered another room and immediately joined the back of another line. At the front of this line were four or five women—the first women I’d seen here—dressed in white nurse’s uniforms, and they were giving the inoculations. Each man stopped in front of each woman and received a shot in his left arm.
At first it didn’t look too bad, but the closer I got, the more I could see, and hear, the reactions. The men were trying to be brave, maybe especially because they were standing there with the other recruits and in front of a group of women, but I could see their pained looks, and some of them jerked or even yelped a little bit. Of course, anybody who reacted that way was instantly razzed by the guys standing around him.
I was going to work hard not to react even if I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself. I’d been smaller than everybody else my whole life, and I’d learned that meant I had to be just about the bravest, the one who complained the least.
Getting closer, I felt the sweat start to drip down my sides. At least it was where nobody could see it. I brushed my hand against my forehead just to make sure there was no sweat running down my face.
“Roll up your sleeves!” a corporal yelled.
Why was everything yelled here—did they think we were all deaf?
“If you’re right-handed, roll up your left sleeve to get the shots!” he called out. “If you’re left-handed … well, you should be able to figure that out yourself!”
I rolled up my sleeve and sidestepped until I was standing directly in front of the first nurse. Without exchanging so much as a word or losing a second, she pulled out an enormous needle and jabbed me in the arm! I felt the pain shoot up my arm and into my head, and I grimaced—but nothing more.
“You only get one from me,” the nurse said. “Keep moving.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I moved sideways.
“You’d better not be calling me ma’am,” the second nurse said.
I glanced up. She looked as though she wasn’t much older than me! She gave me a wonderful smile.
“Then what should I call you?” I asked.
“Nurse Johnson,” she said, sounding very formal, but her smile got even bigger.
“Hello, Nurse Johnson. I’m ready for my shot.”
She was holding a hypodermic needle in her hand. She was ready too. I turned slightly to reveal my shoulder and she leaned across the counter and placed a hand against my arm, lifting it up.
“This isn’t going to hurt at all.”
“I bet you say that to all the guys.”
“Just the ones I like.”
I looked away from the needle and up into her eyes. Even her eyes were smiling and friendly. I felt a little pinch and some pressure, but no pain.
“There, was that so bad?”
“It’s over?”
“I told you it wasn’t going to hurt. Didn’t you believe me?”
“Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“It’s not very gentlemanly to question the word of a lady,” she joked.
“I wasn’t—”
“Move it along, this isn’t a date!”
I spun around. The sergeant was standing right behind me, so close I could feel his hot breath against my face.
“Yes, Sergeant!” I yelled back. I offered an awkward salute, and as I brought my arm up, I realized that it was already hurting where I’d gotten the first shot.
“No salute, remember—I work for a living!”
I quickly moved over to the third nurse. She was neither young nor friendly looking. She actually looked like somebody who wasn’t going to care if the shot hurt or not. She pressed the needle against my arm and slipped the end in. There was nothing but a little pinch—even less than Nurse Johnson’s.
“That was really good,” I said.
“Some things get better with experience,” she replied.“But don’t think that means I’m going to be dating you, either.”
I burst into laughter along with everybody else—including the sergeant!
“We got ourselves a lover boy here!” the sergeant bellowed. “Don’t let his age fool you, gentlemen. You’d better lock up your wives, daughters, and mothers!”
“And which one of those do you think I am?” the nurse demanded, faking annoyance.
“I’d be proud if you were any of those to me, but I think wife would fit the best,” he said, bowing gracefully from the waist.
“You are a charmer, Wilbur,” she said.
“Wilbur?” Johnnie, who was standing just over from me, said loud enough for everybody, including the sergeant, to hear.
“You think that’s funny?” the sergeant said as he stuck his finger into Johnnie’s face.
“No … of course … of course not,” he stammered.
“Don’t you mean no, Sergeant?” he bellowed.
“Yes, Sergeant!”
“Or do you think you should be calling me by my first name?” he demanded.
The sergeant—Wilbur—mumbled a few more words under his breath and walked away, shaking his head.
Johnnie looked over at me and Jim. “I really got to learn to keep my mouth shut.”
Again everybody laughed. The sergeant glanced over his shoulder, and for a split second I thought he was going to come back, but he kept walking.
“You might be the first aircraftman who washes out before he has a chance to put on his uniform,” Jim said to him.
Johnnie opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. He closed his mouth, mimed turning a key to seal his lips, and then pretended to put the key in his pocket. Almost at the same instant the fifth nurse jabbed him with a needle. Unprepared, he let out a little scream and jumped off the ground, which triggered more laughter.
The fifth needle went into my arm and the fifth set of initials was recorded. I was now officially inoculated. Once I was trained to fly, I could be sent overseas.
“I didn’t know you were such a ladies’ man,” Jim said.
“You know what they say: good things come in small packages.”
“They also say you can’t get too much of a good thing.”
I looked back at Nurse Johnson. She was certainly very pretty. She had such a nice smile and beautiful eyes and … she was batting them at the next recruit in line, and laughing, and she took his arm and leaned in close as she gave him his shot. I watched her then do the same thing to the next aircraftman in line. Either she flirted with everybody or this was just her favourite technique for giving somebody a shot.
“Let’s keep moving,” Jim said, giving me a little push forward.
I willingly complied. I was just grateful he hadn’t noticed her flirting with anybody else. Being thought of as a ladies’ man wasn’t the worst reputation to start off with. It sure beat the heck out of being made fun of for my size.
Up ahead was a door with a large red cross and the word medic written in block letters. I looked down at my list. I was suddenly afraid we were going to get more shots behind that door. I was relieved to see on the sheet that it was only a physical and an eye exam.
I opened the door and froze in place. Standing in front of me were a bunch of naked men in two rows!