A Soldiers Mask

By Robin Brentnall

A Soldiers Mask is an extraordinary, firsthand account of adventure, leadership, harassment, and sorrow in the life of a Canadian Soldier.

This story will make you laugh, cry, grimace, love, and pray for the wonderful Men and Women of our Military Forces.

Written from the memories of a Soldier who felt compelled to wear a mask in order to hide the displeasure that can be found in any of the worlds Military Forces, the Author puts forth an entertaining account of the experiences and leadership skills that have been tried, tested, and proven in his role as a Supervisor in the Canadian Forces.

With every experience, the reader will find similarities in their own lives, and with the grace of God, learn that we can change to make the world a better place.

A truly uplifting story!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 4, 2008
• ISBN: 9781466955509

Robin Brentnall

Raised in Gambo, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada, the author would serve his country fpr 23 years. Even with the unfortunate incidents that would make most run for cover, Robin kept on doing what he loved best, fighting for his soldiers. He is married and has a daughter. After suffering a stroke, he decided he would write about his military career in an attempt to help recover from the effects of stress and depression that he has dealt with, to keep his mind sharp and his pen mighty. His latest endeavours include a second book, A Stroke Of Luck, which should be completed in early 2010 and Robin is running for the New Democratic Party in the district of Terra Nova in Newfoundland.

Book preview

© Copyright 2008 Robin Brentnall.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book is available from Library and Archives Canada at www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

ISBN: 978-1-4251-7674-7

ISBN: 978-1-4669-5550-9 (ebook)

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Contents

Introduction

1 Cornwallis: Basic Training

2 Borden: Learning a Trade Military Style

3 Chilliwack: The Beginning of a Career

4 Edmonton: Airborne!

5 Germany: Working with North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)

6 Allied Command Europe Mobile Force (L)

Headquarters

7 Canadian Community Living in Germany

8 England: Need I Say More

9 Light Infantry Battalion/3 Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry

10 Area Support Unit

11 Harassment

12 Service Personnel Holding List

13 Recruiting

14 The Reserves

15 Canadian Forces Personnel Support Agency

16 The Medical System & The Department of Veterans Affairs

17 Family And The Stress They Endure

18 Taking off the Mask

Introduction

For centuries, soldiers have taken the oath of allegiance to their country or state and have been relied upon to defend their nation at all costs. The giving of one’s life for their country is considered the ultimate sacrifice. To ensure remembrance of those who gave their lives, the families, their comrades, and their country have erected monuments dedicated to their memory and the battles are documented in historical textbooks so that our children may learn of their bravery and dedication to our freedom.

But what about those who have given their entire life in the service of their country, were not killed in action or had not been considered a casualty of war? Will they be remembered along with the men and women who gave their lives? After all, they served their country, almost always as volunteers and not as a conscript who would have been ordered to serve when volunteer quotas fell short.

The Canadian Government and the Department of Veterans Affairs have changed the standard needed for one to be considered a Veteran. You must be Military Occupation qualified and be released Honourably from the Canadian Forces in order to be considered a Veteran. This in part has given, to the common soldier, a belief that what they had done during their career is appreciated and helps them to substantiate the sacrifices their families have given in order to provide this service to their country. While friends are working on their careers and getting ahead, many of these soldiers have been doing their duty and found that at the end of their career that they have nothing to show for all of their hard work and must now start at the bottom of the ladder again with another company. Some are fortunate to get a job with the public service or working in the field that they were trained, however most find they must get re-educated and find another job outside of their field of expertise. This stems from the Government not giving the soldiers complete training and qualifications or not ordering workplace employers to recognize the service and the training that Canadian soldiers have received. Most post-secondary education providers do not recognize the service or the training that a soldier has completed and if they do, the college still demands a great deal of post-secondary education through their facility to grant a qualification bearing the college or university seal. For a newly retired soldier who has given most of their adult years to the Canadian Forces, attending a college at this time in their life now takes two or three more years and puts them even further behind, not to mention now competing with their young classmates for positions with well established companies.

I was originally going to dedicate this book to all who have served this great country we call Canada and to those who have served in other countries, friend and foe. But soldiers are of a different breed; they do not want to be heralded in the words of one man, but will accept a modest Thank You and a smile from those whom they have served. Soldiers are no different the world over. They have families, friends, and have taken the oath to protect their country, and if need be, give the ultimate sacrifice. Even those who may have been released dishonourably has made this pledge to serve their country with pride and distinction. To consider those soldiers less than Veterans is a travesty. Several soldiers who took part in operations around the world have been awarded many medals but due to a lack of judgment at some point in their life, have had the title of Veteran taken away from them due to their release item. We are all soldiers, first and foremost. Therefore, regardless of our misgivings, we should all be considered veterans due to the time we have served and our dedication to our country

The Soldiers Mask is something that every soldier wears. It starts when they first join the military and never really ends after that. The training they endure from their first introduction to the military is a lesson in life that no other person, with the exception of police officers, will ever really understand It starts with the removing of your individuality and builds to the point where you are part of a machine, a well-oiled mechanism of death. Yet, you are expected to be an upstanding citizen at the same time Therefore, the Soldiers Mask is constantly going on and coming off on a daily basis. Some soldiers have trouble with this. They cannot differentiate between military and civilian life and this is sometimes the root cause of their downfall in society when trying to integrate back into a lifestyle accepted by most Canadians as normal To completely understand this, I am going to try to portray to you through my actual experiences with the Canadian Forces the way a soldier must act in order to carry the burden of their country’s expectations and those of their own individual lives.

While reading this book, you may find that there are instances where criminal activity has occurred, a complete lack of respect for fellow soldiers’ welfare has been identified, and the reason most soldiers adjust their attitudes and beliefs in order to carry on with the mission. I believe for the most part all who read this book will be able to put together a list of incidents that they personally have been involved in and what they could have done to make a difference to the outcome of those actions. I have not included names in this book because I don’t want to put any soldier in a bad light. What I want to do is relay to the reader my own views on leadership, personnel interaction, and my own personal perceptions on how I like to deal with people and situations that have given me a wealth of understanding and what I have learned from those experiences. The incidents are real and those who identify themselves in the scenario may not appreciate my candour or views. But I hope they are able to see what the picture was portraying from another’s perspective. This book is not meant to squeal on fellow soldiers, it is meant to show all soldiers that they are leaders, some better than others, but regardless of rank or status, you have the power to make a difference in the lives of your fellow soldiers and their families.

This book is not only for soldiers; the corporate world may be able to identify with the scenarios in this text. A large corporation and even Mom and Pop operations can learn from some of the situations that are detailed within. Everyone has an opinion and believes that what he or she thinks is what everyone should also believe. As we know, every situation will have many different solutions, but the perfect solution is the one that actually works for everyone. Now we also know that this is not always possible but if we try hard enough and compromise for the sake of people, not the company, we will achieve the closest thing to perfection that we can

To my fellow soldiers and their supporters around the world, I give you…

A Soldiers Mask.

1

Cornwallis: Basic Training

GET ON YOUR FEET, WELCOME TO HELL! The first words spoken by a Drill Instructor of the Canadian Forces Recruit School at Canadian Forces Base Cornwallis, Nova Scotia, echoed through the main waiting room at the Military Police Building at the front gate of the base. A tall, blonde haired, blue eyed Drill Instructor stood in front of the 8 new recruits who had arrived just short minutes before with luggage and suits with ties and dresses and high heels The Drill Instructor’s voice and approach struck fear into the hearts and minds of those present, even myself, for his stature and mean look brought my mind back to a day in sixth grade when a bully who had the same physical appearance had proven that my mouth was too big for my face and he promptly closed it with one quick punch. My fear quickly disintegrated with the realization that, as a cadet instructor, you were expected to always have a mean look when you first met new members so that the statement I’m in charge was set at the very outset and there would be no question of who was the boss. The Drill Instructor did just that with the statement and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself at the look on the other recruit’s faces, for it was a look of pure horror and the first picture it painted in my mind was of someone saying whoops, wrong door, what the hell am I doing here! But I could faintly pick out a hint of insecurity in the face of that Drill Instructor and I wondered if his bite was as big as his bark. I would find out within the first three weeks

As I said, I knew the first words spoken by the Drill Instructor were meant to be just a welcome to the Canadian Forces, I’m in charge. Little did I know at that time the quote would be a very real and unpleasant statement.

We were instructed to get our luggage and form up on the street outside in three ranks (rows). With each of us looking around to see if there was a form of transportation available to carry us to our new homes, it was soon apparent that we would not be getting a ride and would have to walk to the barracks carrying our luggage. I only had a gym bag with a couple of changes of clothes because I knew that a uniform would be the dress while at the camp and I wouldn’t need much. However, some of the recruits brought 2-3 pieces of luggage and other articles that would prove to be quite a handful to carry so I asked if I could carry something for anyone and the answer from the Drill Instructor kind of shocked me when he said one man, one kit, don’t you dare carry any of that shit for them. But again I could see the look of I don’t want to say those things but I have to in order to teach the lessons all soldiers must learn. We had to walk about a kilometre and just after we started moving down the road I took a couple of bags from one person who had packed a few too many things, even though I knew instinctively that it would probably get me a face full of Drill Instructor. I knew that endless desire and need to be there for my troops when I was in cadets had granted me the distinction of a guy who would do anything to ensure that they were taken care of, even if it meant going against an order that didn’t make sense at the time. The Drill Instructor did notice that I had taken the bags but he didn’t say anything until we got to the barracks and he took me to one side and told me that I had just used my only screw up allowed and from now on I was going to be a marked man.

As a young, mature, 21-year-old gentleman, being given the privilege of serving my country provided me with a great boost of self-confidence and self-esteem. Knowing that I was following in my father’s footsteps and serving this great country as he had done in the 1950’s, I was more than ready to take on the role of a soldier in Canadian Forces. Since I was a young boy, I dreamed of serving with the Canadian military, firstly as a fighter pilot, as is every young man’s dream, then in any capacity that would be suitable and fitting for my education. Working with the Air Force was my ultimate dream, but in 21 years of service, I have never worked with the Air Force directly, even though my occupation is tri-service, meaning I could work with the Army, Navy, or Air Force.

That weekend was what could be considered free but no one was to leave the barracks except to eat at the Mess Hall (cafeteria). The barracks at Cornwallis were old and very primitive when compared to the dorm style set up of most colleges or work camps that many people are accustomed to. They were constructed in an H shape with the center portion housing the washrooms, showers, laundry, and ironing stations. The two-story building contained an office on the ground floor for the Drill Instructor’s staff room and for conducting in-building administration. The remainder of the living area was broken into four large rooms that could house up 50 people each and these rooms were further divided into small areas on either side to support an open concept bed space for two persons. These bed spaces consisted of a set of bunk beds and a locker for each person to put their belongings. It was not much room but we would learn very quickly that you could fit quite a lot of things in there once you were shown how to do it. By Sunday evening, all four big rooms had about 30 personnel in each; the Drill Instructors informed us that our training would begin at 0530 the next morning. If I had known that the typical day of training would start at 0530 and carry on until 2300 that evening, I would have gone to bed at that time!

At 0530 I was awoken by the sound of a large stick being slammed against my bed and the lights being turned on and the yelling and hustling of 30 persons trying to figure out what was going on. GET OUT OF BED YOU F**KING LITTLE MAGGOTS!!! Unsure if it was just a bad dream, I quickly sprang from my bed and stood at the open entrance to my bed space and watched as the Drill Instructor continued to parade around the floor and slam his pace stick against the bed frames. It was funny to see the heavy sleepers trying to figure out what was going on and the nervous ones were nearly dancing out of their skin doing the funky chicken while the Drill Instructor yelled and screamed for everyone to get on the line.

The line was a thin crack in the middle of the room where the two pieces of floor cover met. The floor was immaculately shone but from the walking about of everyone over the weekend, it had minor scuffs and marks that made the luster ache for polish in order to maintain its beauty. The line ran from one end of the long room to the other and disappeared beneath the door to the office where the Drill Instructors would meet before gathering the recruits for their training. By this time, all were out of bed, standing on the line in various forms of dress and direction.

YOU MAGGOTS HAD BETTER GET OUT OF THOSE F**KING RACKS FASTER THAN THAT, ADOPT THE PUSHUP POSITION. This phrase would be one of the most hated in the Canadian Forces due to the magnitude of strength it would require of all recruits. Even now, my stomach aches and my blood boils at the mere thought of someone yelling that phrase and knowing that I would be helpless in rejecting the order. GET ON YOUR GOD DAMNED FACE MAGGOT was yelled at the recruit next to me who was unsure of the position that was being ordered from the Drill Instructor. GET THAT F**KING GUT OFF THE FLOOR YOU LAZY LITTLE F**K BEFORE I MAKE AN EXAMPLE OUT OF YOU! This is not the first time I had done pushups as punishment; I had taken a cadet course years before and was subjected to doing the deed once for a major screw up. WHEN I SAY DOWN, UP, YOU WILL GO DOWN AND DO A PUSHUP WITH YOUR BACK STRAIGHT AND YELL BACK ONE, THEN TWO, AND SO ON UNTIL I’M SATISFIED THAT YOU LITTLE MAGGOTS CAN GET OUT OF BED THE WAY SOLDIERS GET OUT OF BED AND NOT LIKE A F**KING BUNCH OF LAZY ASSED GAGGLE F**KING LITTLE GIRLS WHO ARE AT A BEAUTY SCHOOL!

DOWN, UP ONE! DOWN, UP, TWO!

As I perform my first set of push ups I could see my face in the highly shone floor and I was surprised at the look of aggravation, fear, wonder, and disappointment in knowing that I had gotten myself into something that I wanted to believe was right and honourable for a young man in this great country of ours and not to be considered a MAGGOT as was the case now. When my Father joined the Royal Canadian Artillery in 1950, they were introduced to their Drill Instructors and were told, today you are a man, and a gentleman, and you will act accordingly. That was a far cry from the Maggot that I was now perceived to be and I wondered what this would do to the psyche of these young men and their ability to treat others as men, gentlemen, and not as some insect or repugnant grub that was shown at a young age to just be a pest to people. With each DOWN I could see a man who was determined to be a soldier and care for my soldiers when I was called upon to do so and on about the 19th DOWN I made a pact with myself that I would put on a mask to hide the fear, humility, hate, and disappointment that I was now certain would present itself on a daily basis, judging by the first 5 minutes of being a maggot, pardon me, a soldier in the Canadian Forces

The daily routine of the Basic Recruit Training course was set out to allow for 78 training classes dealing with everything from how to use a rifle (and of course, clean it, which is in itself enough to discourage any person from wanting a rifle in the first place), how to march and perform all of the different movements associated with what soldiers would be required to do on a ceremonial parade such as Remembrance Day, how to use a map and compass, first aid, and physical fitness

Starting in the morning we would get up and wash, shave, get dressed, and clean up any mess that we had made in doing so. Then we would go for breakfast and upon returning to the barracks, be subjected to an inspection of our quarters. This was very detailed and would be the second most hated action we would be forced to withstand (pushups were still number 1). If anything was out of order, and there always was, the command Adopt the Pushup Position would be given and we would be required to perform anywhere from 25 to 100 pushups, depending on how bad the inspection went After the inspection was completed, we would be ordered outside and to form up in three ranks From there we would be marched, no sorry, we would run to our first class which always seemed to be on the other side of the base At lunchtime we would run to the Mess Hall and afterwards go back to our barracks and wait for the afternoon classes As was usual, the class would be at the other end of the base again so with a full stomach we would run to class Dinner time would be a leisurely sit down event that would be broken up by the Drill Instructor ordering everyone to eat fast and get out so others could eat. Breakfast and Lunch rarely provided the opportunity to sit down, as we would grab our food and eat it as we walked to the dish return line at the other end of the Mess Hall

After the day’s training and a brief but well appreciated sit down meal, our evenings were filled with choirs that would include: Cleaning our uniform from the day, cleaning the barracks, ironing our uniforms, polishing our boots, cleaning our lockers and laying out the contents so that every persons was exactly the same. On top of this was the task of making sure homework was completed and of course, that damned rifle was clean. By the time all of these things were completed, it was normally bedtime

The requirement to wear my mask presented itself on a daily basis and I could tell that others had found their own mask as well, for regardless of what was said or the action having to be completed, the expression was always the same, the same look I saw that first day on pushup number 19. It is a look of a blank face with a far off stare and unhearing concern to show the outside world that you are in control of your situation and nothing can scare you in the least. It is a look of piercing eyes and tight lips and nostrils that do not move with the breath that is calm and unheard. To look long enough, one would think it is the face of a manikin, showing no emotion to the outside stimulants that are present in the room. It is the face of control without control, a Soldiers Mask

The Soldiers Mask will remain the same during the career of a soldier. It will help hide the soldier’s emotions to stimuli and protect them from judgment or persecution that could follow any form of emotional reaction In the face of the enemy, it would be critical not to show fear But a soldier would also learn to remove the mask to accommodate situations that would require the showing of the human side, especially during events of informing families of a loss, or when greeting young children to show them they don’t have to be afraid A smile can go a very long way when the situation demands it and empathy is another time when it is almost crucial to show your humane condition in order to gain trust with people To make subtle changes to fit the situation will provide the appearance of being interested in current state of affairs of others or a look of pondering the point being raised, even if it is the most ridiculous opinion that could have been given by even the most educated and informed person, will give a positive result and show the person that you are not ridiculing their thoughts But when nothing seems to be working, put on the Soldiers Mask

Take for example the case of no right answer In the second week of training during morning inspection, the Drill Instructor was giving the recruit next to me a tongue lashing because of his poor ironing of shirts As is usual, the recruit is asked for his input into why they cannot do something, even after being taught and practicing for a week Of course the recruit is near tears as the verbal barrage continued and it was quite evident that he had not discovered his need to find a mask The Drill Instructor could sense that the recruit was about to go into convulsions and lose control of his bodily functions so the Drill Instructor said, I bet you don’t like me, do you, to which the recruit replied no. Wrong answer! WHAT? YOU DON’T LIKE ME? Sorry Master Corporal, that’s not what I meant, I like you Master Corporal. YOU DO LIKE ME? WHAT ARE YOU, A FAGGOT? It became apparent that there was no right answer to that question and the poor young recruit just stood there and would have certainly crawled into his barrack box (also known as a foot locker) to hide the embarrassment on his face and to quiet the laughing that was echoing from his fellow soldiers on the line.

Realizing that he was about to drop from the grilling, the Drill Instructor turned his attention to me and asked me Do you like me Private Brentnall? Trying to think quickly, I came back with It is not my job to like or hate, my job is to kill or be killed, MASTER CORPORAL!

"WELL, WELL, WELL, WE HAVE A F**KING SOLDIER HERE. DID EVERYONE HEAR

WHAT HE SAID? With my brain reeling at the quick thinking and the approval of the Drill Instructor, my mask slipped just enough to make even the proudest parent cringe at the next statement. Private Brentnall, that was a good answer, I like you, to which I could only respond Does that mean you’re a faggot, Master Corporal?" WRONG QUESTION!!!

ADOPT THE PUSHUP POSITION!!!

After what seemed like a 1000 pushups, we were standing on the line, breathing heavy from the exertion we had been forced to put forward from the physical workout. With red faces and sorrow showing, there was no longer laughing coming from the mouths of the 30 soldiers. The Drill Instructor was still showing signs of embarrassment and it was very apparent that his mask was only put on with masking tape instead of the duct tape required of anyone in a position of authority. Sweat from showing a human response will cause masking tape to lose its stickiness and allow the mask to fall Never should the true make up of a person be shown to another person when it will put them at a disadvantage. Just as a dog can smell fear, so can your opponent in a battle of the wits. The game was afoot and it was apparent that I had the low ground and it would be an up hill battle just to keep from being beaten into soldierly submission. The next eight weeks would be interestingand would bring to light the building blocks required to become a soldier

* * *

By the third week of training, the cracks were beginning to show in the composure of our Drill Instructor. With every training session it was becoming apparent that he was more of a nice guy than the hard ass individual that seems to excel in a position of absolute command and most nice guys find it hard to play that game when the self-esteem of others is being trampled in a sadistic way But when they are expected to act that way, even the most confident person is prone to make mistakes and so it was only a matter of time that the Drill Instructor would once again put himself in a position to be embarrassed by playing a game that he could not win

During a drill period, the Drill Instructor was teaching Turns on the March, a difficult move made even more demanding because of the way it is performed. The arms must remain by the sides during the turn and the brain has to be trained not to Bear Walk when the move is finished As we were being taught the move, I notice that the Drill Instructor was doing the movement wrong I had been a drill instructor in cadets and the drill was exactly the same in the Canadian Forces, the same drill manual was used by both organizations. After several attempts to complete the movement, most people were stumbling and losing their balance due to the command being given on the wrong foot. In any drill movement on the march, a foot is designated to be the one to hit the ground when the command is given and executed. Most people would understand it as One, Two, Three, GO. On the GO command, the appropriate foot should be hitting the ground.

The Right Turn on the March command is given as Right TURN, turn being the GO command to begin the action. The command is given on the left foot and one pace is taken with the right foot then the body pivots on the ball of the right foot and the left foot is brought down parallel with the right foot. At this time, the right foot is shot forward to continue marching but in the new direction. The arms must be careful not to swing with the wrong leg

Seeing the recruits were having trouble completing the movement, the Drill Instructor began to