Clandestine

Chapter 10 - Awakening

In 1966, when I returned from my Scottish sojourn, I threw myself into my work with the RCMP, teaching intelligence techniques to police officers and military personnel across the country. My good friend, Robert Carling, was now well and truly a leader in the emerging intelligence community in Canada. He spent less and less time in Ottawa and more time abroad. I sensed that it was not the type of marriage that Carla had envisioned and I hoped for Robert’s sake that he wasn’t sacrificing his relationship for king and country.

Canada of the late 1960s and early 70s was also an interesting perch from which to observe the United States in its attempts to destroy itself. Assassins’ bullets would once again change the course of history as Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Robert Kennedy, and George Wallace were all targeted. I have never been convinced that those assassinations were anything more than an expression of political violence in a disconnected nation. Each of the figures in question had made a career of making powerful enemies, and in each case they had been shot at fairly close range while more or less stationary. None resembled the type of military ambush that struck John Kennedy. The assassinations may have been isolated hate crimes or the result of hired guns employed by disenfranchised organizations, but attempts to tie the crimes together have never made sense to me.

Countries have destinies born from the circumstances that they find themselves in during particular formative epochs. I have always believed that the United Kingdom’s drive to colonize the world came as an expressionofits seafaring technology. Britain found itself in a situation where it was surrounded by imperialistic and powerful nations all intent on expanding their economies. England was able to survive and thrive because of its ability to dominate on the high seas. There have never been pirates as good as those whose skills were honed in the British navy. With a planet full of water, and on the strength of a compass and spyglass, the kingdom ruled the waves and influenced the planet for centuries. Such technology is less relevant today; however, the sensibilities gained from the country’s colonizing past remain.

Canada was a nation born from compromise. Influenced by its British and French imperialists, the country was formed when the upper and lower territories decided to co-operate and organize themselves into a parliamentary democracy. Once the boundaries had been expanded to include the immense geography that is Canada, regionalism spread and the politics of east-versus-west, English-versus-French, and rural-versus-urban prevailed. Still, there is an attitude in Canada that everyone can be included, compromise can be reached, and we can find a way to work together. Canada’s ability to exist in a state of continual multicultural and multiregional debate -- yet fundamentally hold to the firm belief that all can be accommodated -- is antimatter to nations who feel that violence is a much more expedient way to solve problems. It was in the late 1960s that Prime Minister Trudeau outlined his Just Society, soon after the failure of Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society south of the border.

I once met Pierre Trudeau under the oddest of circumstances. I was spending a month in Montreal, training RCMP officers in intelligence techniques. I was stationed in a boutique hotel on Rue Sherbrooke and had access to one of the finest men’s clubs in town. The Boulevard Club had a magnificent pool and fitness facilities. I had done an excellent job of keeping fit throughout my travels and, as always, my chosen means of physical training was boxing. I would often hit the heavy bag when I found a facility to work out. I had not fought since the army but continued to train, as I never knew when I might land myself in a spot that I needed to fight my way out of again. It was a Wednesday night and I had made it down to the Boulevard Club following one of my lectures. I was having a light night of exercise -- skipping and stretching -- to unwind from the day.

Across the room were a ring and assorted punching bags. A few French Canadian men invaded the room and proceeded to don the gloves and fool around. It was all very farcical. Eventually a couple of these ragdolls stepped into the ring and began sparring with each other. Cheered on by their mates the two of them proceeded to dance around the ring with the ferocity of fairy penguins, occasionally landing a punch that would have been lucky to break wind. Five minutes into the proceedings one of the men got the upper hand and was proclaimed the victor. It was hard to watch but equally as difficult to look away. I remained far away from the action. As the two men left the ring and removed their protective headgear, I realised that one of the combatants was the newly elected Member of Parliament from Mount Royal, the aforementioned Pierre Elliot Trudeau.