Element of Surprise

By Derek Hart

Canadian Travis Kelland was 20 years old when Germany invaded Poland to start World War II. Travis was also the only son and heir to Sir Charles Kelland, a wealthy and powerful businessman whose vast holdings stretched across many provinces of Canada. Sir Charles was grooming young Travis to eventually take the reins of the Kelland empire. However, Travis had other plans. He enlisted in the Royal Canadian Navy and set forth on a grand adventure to fight the Nazis.

Of course, Travis was in for a rude awakening. He joined the MTB's (Motor Torpedo Boats) squadrons fighting in the Channel and the North Sea and was immediately faced with death and destruction, winning the DSO from the King himself. Yet Travis was a survivor too. After proving himself in combat, he is transferred to the Mediterranean and took command of his own MTB based out of Alexandria, Egypt. In this theatre of operations, his crew fight Germans and Italians, constantly faced with overwhelming odds and the constant threat of Rommel.

These are the adventures of MTB 545, from 1940?1945, spanning the desperate years to the days just prior to the D-Day invasion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 4, 2005
• ISBN: 9780595810802

Derek Hart

Derek Hart is the prolific author of 28 action and adventure novels, known for their historical accuracy, while still maintaining a high level of entertainment. Romance is also a vital part of Derek Hart's trademark style and his novels generally appeal to men and women alike. Mr. Hart authored Secret of the Dragon's Eye, his first novel aimed at all age groups, which met with instant success and outstanding reviews. The author has since followed with Secret of the Dragon's Breath, Secret of the Dragon's Claw, Secret of the Dragon's Scales and Secret of the Dragon's Teeth. The final volume of the 6-episode series, Secret of the Dragon's Wings, will be available in November of 2018. He has since started a new series, post-apocalyptic in nature, with Minerva's Shield and Nike's Chariot. The third installment, Apollo's Plague came out in November 2017. Abandoned was published in March 2018 and Game Over premiered in June 2018. List of published books: Secret of the Dragon’s Eye Secret of the Dragon’s Breath Secret of the Dragon’s Claw Secret of the Dragon’s Scales Secret of the Dragon’s Teeth Secret of the Dragon’s Wings Claws of the Raven Danger Cruise Favor for FDR Crooked Cross Factor Tracks of the Predator For Love or Honor Bound Tales of the Yellow Silk Element of Surprise Seas Aflame Ice Flotilla High Altitude Low Opening Tangles of Truth Shadows in Replay Flag of Her Choosing Tidal Trap Dangerous (Poetry) Executive Firepower The CARLA Conspiracy The Wreckchasers Minerva's Shield Nike's Chariot Apollo's Plague Abandoned Game Over Mercury's Wings Before the Dead Walked Books coming soon: The Samuel Clemens Affair Pearl and Topaz By the Moon Darkly Broadmoor Manor Neptune's Trident Operation Sovereign Primary Weapon Saturn's Fire Tails of Thaddeus Enchanted Mesa Eagle Blue Last Guidon Excess Baggage Container Carta Codex Shipwreckers Romeo Tango The 5x5 Gang Desert Salvage

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Copyright © 2005 by Derek Hart

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case ofbrief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN-13: 978-0-595-36657-6 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-81080-2 (ebk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-36657-0 (pbk)

SBN-10: 0-595-81080-2 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Foreword

Preface

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Prologue

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 2

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 3

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 4

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 5

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 6

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 7

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 8

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 9

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 0

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 11

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 2

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 13

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 4

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 5

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 6

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 7

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 8

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 1 9

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 2 0

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 2 1

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 2 2

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 23

C H A Ρ Τ Ε R 2 4

Epilogue

About the Author

Notes

Critical Acclaim for Derek Hart

Dedicated to Kathy We weren’t always on the same page And sometimes it was difficult to get along. Yet our mutual history spans more than twenty-five years! With admiration and respect and Ian, Besides memories profound. May you always find the wind at your back.

Foreword 

The Royal Canadian Navy (RCN) entered World War Two with little to show for itself. Of the 13 vessels credited to the Navy at that time, only six were considered proper warships capable of fighting combat at sea. By war’s end, the RCN sailed 400 ships of various types with a compliment of nearly 100,000 men. Throughout the six long years of war, the RCN sank or shared in the sinking of over 30 German U-boats and scores of enemy surface ships. Canada’s Navy lost 22 of its own ships and 1,800 sailors’ lives.

It took a special kind of sailor to man a plywood boat filled with five thousand gallons of highly volatile aviation gasoline. The Royal Navy found their early Motor Torpedo Boat (MTB) crews among the yachtsmen, racing enthusiasts, and fishermen who populated the Commonwealth’s coastal towns and villages. These early recruits shaped the force that followed. The commanding officers were generally in their twenties, and most had at least two years of experience in fast-attack craft. The crews were also either reservists or wartime only ratings. The average age of the crewmen was between eighteen and nineteen, with perhaps one career regular petty officer on board to provide experience.

The result was a tightly knit, young, and aggressive crew—ideally suited to the unconventional fighting that characterized warfare in fast-attack craft. Survival depended on the commander’s judgment and the crew’s teamwork. It was a successful formula that served the boats well from Norway to the eastern Mediterranean.

Preface 

Canadian Naval Prayer

O Eternal Lord God, who alone spread’st out the heavens, and rulest the raging of the sea; who has compassed the waters with bounds until day and night come to an end; be pleased to receive into Thy almighty and most gracious protection the persons of us Thy servants, and the Fleet in which we serve.

Preserve us from the dangers of the sea, and from the violence of the enemy; that we may be a safeguard unto our most gracious Sovereign Leader,

King George, and his Dominions, and a security for such as pass upon the seas upon their lawful occasions; that the inhabitants of our Commonwealth may in peace and quietness

serve Thee our God; and that we may return in safety to enjoy the blessings of the land, with the fruits of our labors, and with a thankful remembrance of Thy mercies to praise and glorify Thy Holy Name.

Amen.

Acknowledgements 

To The Naval Museum of Manitoba: For providing a veritable mountain of research material about the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN) and willingly answering all of the author’s inquiries. Derek Hart would especially like to acknowledge their patience in dealing with a silly old Yank.

To several Canadian friends and business associates who volunteered input and offered to edit for cultural integrity. Their viewpoint, both from a historical perspective and from the nuances of language and provincial variances, added greatly to the accuracy of this novel. I am greatly indebted.

To my son Ian, who is now old enough to actively participate in Dad’s passion for writing. He often runs his hand along all the Derek Hart titles on the bookshelf, reminding me how badly he wants to grow up so he can read them. That day will come soon enough and I prefer he stay a little boy as long as possible. However, it’s fun to watch Ian proudly show his friends his dad’s photo on the back of each volume. To Ian I leave the legacy ofDerek Hart and hope he never

loses his love of reading!

Introduction 

Mention PT boat and somebody might know what you’re talking about, because President John F. Kennedy was once a lieutenant on PT 109 during WWII. Or perhaps someone still remembers the TV show McHale’s Navy and

PT 73.

However, mention MTB to the average person and you’ll get a blank look. The younger generation might even think you’re talking about a mountain bike.

The United States Navy called their torpedo boat PT (Patrol Torpedo). The Royal Canadian Navy called their torpedo boat MTB (Motor Torpedo Boat).

MTB’s were built for fighting in, not for living on. They were, therefore, a wartime requirement only and were operational only in war zones.

The stories of these battle craft and their crews should never be forgotten. The Canadian Coastal Forces played a significant part in the historic tale of Canada’s contribution to victory during the Second World War.

Prologue 

Port Edward, British Columbia June 1940 A Call to Arms

The setting sun’s reflection off the waves of the North Pacific Ocean was like daggers of fire burning up through the restless waters. The surface also mirrored images of a vast fleet of fishing trawlers returning home, the day’s catch filling the holds up to the scuppers.

Pacific Halibut was the primary fish snagged with bottom hook, line gear or longline trolling by these trawlers. Another group of smaller boats had followed the traditional route of the Sockeye Salmon down from Alaska. In either case they had been hugely successful in pursuit of fresh fish, adding to the purse of the ships’ owner.

Twenty-year-old Travis Kelland stood on the bridge of the master trawler, christened Chinook. He was the only son and heir of Sir Charles Kelland, owner and proprietor of over 60 fishing boats based from Port Edward, British Columbia. By all standards of the day, the Kelland family was the wealthiest bloodline in Western Canada, as they held vast acreage of timber and lumber mills, gold mines, several fisheries and canneries, as well as employing thousands of Canadians. The name Kelland was well known throughout the provinces, for the Kellands were considered both fair and bold, combinations that led to their vast financial empire. The Kelland name possessed royal lineage too, so with title and property Sir Charles commanded much respect from all those who knew him. He had earned their loyalty, however, not resting on past historical laurels. Nor was he a difficult or demanding man, except for maybe in the upbringing of his son.

Young Travis was learning the ropes of every facet of the business, for his father was grooming his heir to eventually take over the reins of the family business. The son had spent a year as a lumberjack and after this stint as a fisherman, he would be off to the gold mines. However, Travis was entirely too enraptured by the sea to go willingly underground. He loved the ocean and felt free riding the waves. In fact, even as a child, Travis was fascinated by the violent storms that sometimes ravaged the coast, often risking injury by standing outside in the midst of its terrible and wondrous fury.

Travis kept his eye on the coast, but also made certain that the trawlers were all accounted for. His own crew and other ships’ captains marveled at how quickly the son had grasped the subtle intricacies of commanding a flotilla of fishing boats.

He was born to it, one of the old timers had told his mates at the local pub. Not just his father’s blood, who we all know has been much blessed by God. But the truest gifts came from his mother, for the Chinook know the sea and the land.

Travis smiled fondly, for he adored his mother. She was so beautiful and full of life, but her heritage was as vital to her as her children. Her name was Chainna and she was pure Chinook Indian, historically a tribe that lived in villages on the embankments of the Columbia River for centuries. They were master traders and fishermen, whose numbers had almost vanished from the face of the earth.

Travis also had two younger sisters, Rachel and Savannah, who like their mother, had been blessed with long jet-black hair and beauty unrefined. They were the source of many a sibling battle with their brother, but if truth be known, he loved them dearly. Many a schoolyard brawl was instigated when Travis overheard a disparaging remark made about the heritage of his sisters. While no playground bully, he made certain that such comments were never repeated. His sisters adored him in secret, while teasing him incessantly. Only when their father laid down the law to behave, did they agree to tow the line, until Kelland senior was no longer in attendance.

Sir Kelland was now confined to a wheelchair, his legs crushed in a logging accident only two years past. The reins of leadership for the family fortune would soon be turned over to his son, as soon as the young man turned 25. It was less than five years away, but to Travis it seemed like a lifetime. Besides, taking his rightful position in a long line of Kellands really didn’t appeal to Travis right then. Surely there was more to the world than British Columbia?

And what of the war in Europe?

In the hearts of many ofhis countrymen, Canada was not under threat, and King George VI had no legitimate claims to their loyalty.

Yet to Travis it seemed as if almost the entire planet was embroiled in a vicious conflict, as the Commonwealth struggled to contain the juggernauts of Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy.

Truly these were events that would shape the future of all mankind.

But did anyone in British Columbia really care?

Only fish seemed to matter.

For fishing was Port Edward’s mainstay industry. The Kelland North Pacific Cannery was one of the oldest canneries on the west coast. On top of that, nearly 60% of the town’s population was employed in some capacity by Sir Charles Kelland. Everyday life pretty much revolved around the business decisions his father made. There was no time for war, especially if it might interfere with commerce.

It was just the way things were and always would be.

Travis spun the wheel angrily, frustrated by his own thoughts. As he made his way into the harbor, he vividly imagined that he was at the helm of a fast corvette, destroyer, or perhaps even a mighty battleship.

Make ready the guns, he bellowed.

Some of the hands looked up, suddenly not recognizing Kelland’s voice.

All ahead flank speed, Travis shouted again, even though he had total control of the engines. Steady up. You there, look lively. We haven’t got all bloody day, you know.

Laughter snapped him out of his play acting.

Flushed with embarrassment, Travis throttled back and steered expertly for the bumpers at the Number 2 quay. The crew returned to the business at hand, but there was no doubt that young Kelland would yet again be the topic of conversation over the nightly beer at the pub.

Chinook came to a gentle stop, lines cast over to the pier with practiced ease. As Travis shut off the engines, he looked ashore, suddenly aware that someone had been waiting for his return. His stomach just sank, as he spotted his father rolling closer. The crew’s greetings for Sir Kelland were heartfelt and genuine, but they also made sure to put in a good word for son and heir.

I could do without all that, Travis said to himself, running fingers through his unruly black hair.

His father waved and called out, How did it go, son?

Travis scurried down the ladder and jumped onto the dock. Very well, Father. They were running today. Not one ship came back without a full load.

Charles Kelland beamed. Well done, Travis. You seem to have your mother’s knack for smelling fish.

They shook hands, a custom established when the boy was only five years old. It was neither warm nor unfriendly, but just something that was expected.

Come with me to the pub, the elder Kelland said. I’ll buy you a pint while we listen to the news.

Now that suggestion made Travis quite pleased. He set his pace to match his father’s progress in the wheelchair and spoke only when spoken to. It seemed only natural to him, since that was how he had been raised. Travis was in awe ofhis father, but also had seen how uncharacteristically gentle he could be with his mother and sisters. The man was wealthy and powerful, but human too, though sometimes Travis had to look pretty hard to find those traits. Everything seemed different when it was just the two of them, father and son. It was as if the weight of the world would fall on his shoulders one day and that possibility didn’t fill Travis with excitement.

There just had to be more to life than the west coast of Canada.

They entered Sir Edward’s Pub and were greeted with a virtual tidal wave of friendly banter. Everyone wanted to shake Sir Kelland’s hand as he rolled by, heading for the table reserved for his family for over 75 years. Travis, on the other hand, was subjected to repeated slaps on the back and harmless teasing about his earlier flights of fantasy aboard the Chinook.

He maintained his smile and held two fingers up, signaling the barkeep to bring two pints of stout, which would be delivered in thick and heavy glass mugs bearing the Kelland coat of arms. Travis always thought it was a bit pretentious, but kept his opinion to himself, of course. His father positioned himself at the head of the table and Travis joined him. They still had a few minutes before the nightly war report began. Yet neither man spoke to the other, taking sips of the foamy brew and pondering their own thoughts.

The radio crackled with static for a moment as the volume was cranked up high.

Suddenly Edward R. Murrow’s distinctive voice brought the pub to silence.

This…is London. Tonight, as on every other night, the rooftop watchers are peering out across thefantasticforest ofLondon’s chimneypots. The anti-aircraft gunners stand ready. I have been walking tonight—there is a full moon and the dirty-gray buildings appear white. The stars, the empty windows, are hidden. It’s a beautiful and lonesome city where men and women and children are trying to snatch a few hours sleep underground. Yet across the narrow current of water known as the English Channel, brave deeds unfold.

Travis couldn’t help it. He was hypnotized by the description and closed his eyes to imagine what it was like. The words painted a vibrant picture of Britain fighting against incredible odds.

The news of the war in Europe was mostly bad. Still, one little episode stood out from the typical story of ships sunk and battles lost. The tales might have been exaggerated, but on the beaches of Dunkirk history was being written by forces outside the norm. A legend was born and it stirred Travis’ blood.

British and Allied Forces had been desperately fighting to stop the German juggernaut through Europe. By May Hitler’s armies had swept west from Germany through Holland, Belgium and France forcing the British and French to retreat. The German spearhead had reached the sea cutting off the Allied Forces in the North from the main Army in France and cornering them into a small area around Dunkirk.

On May 14, 1940, the BBC broadcast the following announcement, The Admiralty have made an order requesting all owners ofself-propelled pleasure craft between 30’ and l00’ in length to send allparticulars to theAdmiralty within 14 days from today if they have not already been offered or requisitioned.

Although this may have sounded something like a request, it was, in fact, a General Order. These ships were required for harbor services and national defense and thus the idea of using private yachts as naval auxiliaries was quite well established by the time the emergency of Dunkirk broke upon the Nation.

On May 26, 1940, a secret cipher telegram was sent by the War Office to the Admiralty stating that the emergency evacuation of troops from the French coast was required immediately. A contingency plan, long prepared under the code name Operation Dynamo was to be executed.

In overall command was the Vice-Admiral Commanding Dover, Bertram Ramsay. On the following day, May 27, the Small Craft section of the Ministry of Shipping was telephoning various boat builders and agents around the coast requesting them to collect all small craft suitable for work in taking troops off the beaches where the larger ships could not penetrate. What was needed were boats with shallow draught and this directed attention in particular to the pleasure boats, private yachts and launches on the Thames and also in muddy estuaries and creeks in deserted moorings along the South and East coasts which would be suitable for such an Operation.

Very few owners took their own vessels, apart from fishermen and one or two others. The whole operation was very carefully coordinated and extensive records were kept of the little ships and other larger vessels that went to Dunkirk.

As a result of the operation, small boats and a considerable fleet of naval and merchant marine vessels operated off the Dunkirk beaches and the harbor. Between May 28 and June 4, 1940, no less than 338,000 British and French troops were evacuated. Approximately one third of these were taken directly off the beaches and approximately 100,000 Frenchmen could be used to return from England one day.

This story electrified Travis from the moment he heard it on the radio, up to and including all the news he could devour in the newspapers. The power of ships and boats at sea was obvious to young Kelland, for he went out with the fishing fleets every day. But to hear such glorious events as a fleet of fishing boats sent to the beaches of France in a rescue mission held unheralded fascination for his thirsting taste of adventure. Such glorious stuff was more than he could stand to miss.

However, Canada was hopelessly ill-prepared for war. Largely a rural, disconnected country, Canada had neither the infrastructure capable of dealing with the tremendous influx of volunteers, nor the financial resources required to train and equipment them.

The radio was turned up even louder and a hush fell over the pub as all the patrons listened carefully. The descriptions were so full of detail and emotion, that shivers ran up and down Travis’ spine. Young and old alike were moved to tears and he watched his own father close his eyes in prayer.

In those moments, Travis was quite vulnerable and he suddenly made up his mind. He was going to enlist in the Royal Canadian Navy and get into this fight with the dreaded Nazis. Surely the Navy Department would jump to have his skills, since he was so at home with the sea.

The only obstacle in his way was his father.

Travis sighed, for Sir Charles Kelland was as formidable as the Pacific Ocean!

Once the news report had concluded, the Kelland men went home.

In 1905, Travis’ grandfather, Arthur Kelland, was already a wealthy lumber tycoon and owner of a burgeoning fishing fleet. He purchased 320 acres on the coast and built the Kelland estate. Local trimmed stone was used in the construction and its impressive exterior was only matched by the lavish interior. Two years later, Arthur moved into his new home. It was a massive structure, with the living room alone measuring more than 1,800 square feet, with a commanding view of the Pacific Ocean. His son Charles was born in that house and grew up to take over the reins of leadership from his father. Travis

was also born in the same house and since his eighteenth birthday had been groomed to follow the traditions of the Kelland name.

As a suitable counterpoint to the house, Arthur Kelland created a five-acre formal garden. The grounds, which were once cared for by five full-time gardeners, included choice exotics that grandmother Abigail Kelland picked up all over the world. Some had never been grown in British Columbia before. In addition, the grounds had a Japanese garden, lavish flower displays, and manicured lawns. The gardens remained a showplace through much of the 20’s and 30’s.

The home’s high ceilings and wide halls gave a very elegant overall appearance, with teak floors, golden oak and rosewood paneled rooms and lighting fixtures everywhere. Just off the main entranceway was a magnificent baronial fireplace. Here high-back wing chairs and a camel-back sofa beckoned for relaxing by the fire. Its pepper-shaker tower, crystal chandeliers, stained glass windows and frescoed ceilings extended a guarantee for any guest that comfort and opulence was a common experience within these walls. Charles Kelland had made many more improvements to the mansion itself, while adding Tudor timbered stables and a multi-bay stucco and stone garage for their various vehicles.

However, for all its grandeur, Travis enjoyed the kitchen most of all. That’s where the action was and he learned more from the cook and servants than any of his classes at the University of British Columbia.

The radio was on and most of the kitchen staff was listening to Winston Churchill speak to the House of Commons, as Travis walked in to sneak a taste of the delicacies.

What General Weygand called the Battle ofFrance is over. I expect that the Battle ofBritain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival ofChris-tian civilization. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The wholefury and might ofthe enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this Island or lose the war. Ifwe can stand up to him, all Europe may befree and the life ofthe world may moveforward into broad, sunlit uplands. But ifwefail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss ofa new Dark Age made more sinister. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, ifthe British Empire and Commonwealth lastfor a thousand years, men will still say this was theirfinest hour

The applause was thunderous and Mrs. Fairchild, the cook, turned down the volume. She was originally from Surrey, so her heart was definitely heavy with worry for her friends and family. Oh, dear, this war sounds dreadful.

Travis had heard every word and the Prime Minister’s speech had struck another responsive chord. Absentmindedly, he picked up one of the platters of food and carried it out to the dining room. The servants watched this in amazement, but certainly didn’t complain, for they always considered Travis real people.

Dinner was served.

The meal always began with soup. This evening it was potato curry. Then came mixed salad greens with blueberry dressing. For the main course, naturally, seafood fresh from maritime waters was served, which tonight was grilled salmon with stewed Irish potatoes and gravy. This was topped off with apple pie, the crust flakey and so delicious.

Please tell Cook that the food was quite delectable, Charles spoke up after finishing his second piece of pie.

Oh, Charles, you say that every evening, his wife said with a big smile.

Yes, Father, you do always say that, Savannah giggled.

Charles grinned and pet his daughter’s cheek with great affection. Perhaps that is true. Tonight, however, Mrs. Fairchild has really outdone herself. Quite out of character, he even smacked his lips a little.

Everyone chuckled.

All except Travis.

He was too nervous to eat. Pushing the food around with his fork, he kept going over the words he must say to his father.

Only his mother seemed to notice, but she refrained from commenting. It was obvious that there was something monumental troubling her son.

Charles was sipping at a fresh cup of coffee and considering his after-dinner options, whether that should be pipe tobacco or cigar? He wasn’t quite sure which appealed to him more.

Father? Travis spoke up abruptly.

Both of his sisters looked up from their desserts, immediately aware that Travis had something important on his mind. It was in the sound of his voice.

His mother looked at her son differently too, for he had spoken with unusual confidence, a deep tone in his words.

Yes, Travis, Charles replied. The senior Kelland had detected the way his son had addressed him as well, but tried not to let on.

Travis placed his hands flat on the table, took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and said, I’m not going to report to the Bralorne Gold Mine next week, as we agreed.

Charles blinked once, set the cup on the saucer and asked, I dare say, why not?

Travis heard the edge to his father’s reply. It was going to get a lot worse.

I have decided to enlist in the Royal Canadian Navy, Father, Travis went

on.

There wasn’t a collective gasp, or cries of dismay that greeted his announcement. In fact, there was no noise at all, not even the intake or expulsion of breath. There was nothing but silence.

Complete and utter silence.

Charles Kelland rolled his wheelchair away from the table, took one look at his wife, and then pushed himself out of the room. Once inside his personal study, the door closed quietly behind him.

Travis had not been prepared for this total lack of response. He sat perfectly still, well aware that his sisters were staring at him and his mother hadn’t moved her fine cloth napkin from her mouth.

Chainna Kelland finally stood up very slowly and faced the girls. I want both of you to go to your rooms, without comment or discussion.

Yes, Mother, they obeyed in unison.

Rachel and Savannah excused themselves from the table, folding napkins carefully on their chairs, before walking briskly out of the dining room. Travis overheard their incredulous chatter as the girls ran up the grand oak staircase.

His mother turned to face him. Well, now that was quite an announcement.

He nodded. Yes, I imagine it was.

Don’t you think you should have discussed this in private with your father? she asked.

No, I do not, Travis replied. I’m not a child any more.

No one said you were, she said. I’m talking about common courtesy.

Was I rude? Travis asked in horror.

She shook her head and put her arms around her only son, giving him a loving and gentle hug. No, Travis, you weren’t exactly rude. But perhaps you should have waited to discuss this matter with your father in private, father to son?

Travis nodded and said, Yes, you’re right, of course, as always.

His mother chuckled at that. Oh, you silly boy. I only claim to be right all the time, because in your father’s world, he must be the one to make the truly important decisions. Here at home, this is my domain and I know my children.

Yes, Mother.

You are just like your father, you know, she went on, studying his deep blue eyes. Stubborn, confident and even a bit reckless, but also very sensitive. The Navy will never find another man more able.

Now you’re being silly, Travis said, getting up and walking with her into the living room. Even though it was June, the nights were still quite chilly and a robust fire was crackling in the grand fireplace.

They sat down together on a huge maroon settee, before the dancing flames and enjoyed the warmth. Travis was well aware that his mother was putting forth a brave face, but was very worried about her son’s decision. He took her hands in his. I’ll be just fine, Mother. This is something I must do, for somewhere on the ocean lies my destiny.

My name is Chainna for a reason, my son, she said quietly. The name represents a warm and open personality, with a creative and versatile nature, but one that is also very emotional. Like you, I have always desired change and travel and would enjoy opportunities that allowed me to act independently, rather than conform to system and routine. However, my true nature also didn’t allow me to complete my dreams, for distant fields always looked greener. Until I met your father, I too only wanted to wander the world in search of myself.

Travis bowed his head. So you don’t approve of my decision, either?

His mother lifted his chin. I think you must follow your heart, my dearest. I just want you to know that you may not find what you’re looking for on the other side of the world. It may be right here.

Travis thought about what she said for a moment. Then he emphatically shook his head. No, Mother. There is someone out there that holds the keys to who I am. I feel her pull.

His mother’s eyes grew wide. This is about love?

He shrugged. I don’t know. I don’t even know what love is. I can just feel her and she has a powerful magic.

Chainna was impressed that her son could sense such things. She gave him another big hug and kissed him on the forehead. "Do not let your father’s reaction upset you. He is just worried that he might lose his only son. He loves you

very much, but is also a proud man and emotions are often difficult for him to deal with, especially his own."

Travis nodded. I know, Mother. He is a great man and I owe him so much. But I must do this thing, for so many reasons.

Chainna had one more thing to say. You men were made for war. Without it you would wander around aimlessly, getting under the feet of the women who are trying to organize the really important things in life.

Travis didn’t have a rebuttal, but instead said, I will make a difference in someone’s life, Mother. I don’t know who or how, but I just know that this is not about war, but about life.

She forced a broader smile. Then it is what you must do. In time your father will come to accept that his son has grown into a man. Let’s not speak of it any more tonight. Go tuck your sisters in and listen to their prayers, but you should plan on meeting with your father privately in the morning.

Travis barely slept that night. He tossed and turned in his bed, drifting off for awhile before strange nightmares would disturb his rest.

He did not know, of course, that his father never went to bed, but remained in his study, looking out the huge bay window overlooking the ocean. Indeed, Charles Kelland was fully aware that his son was a man and had a mind of his own.

But war? he asked himself with great sorrow. Oh, my young Travis, you have no idea what war is like.

In the morning, Sir Charles was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Travis came down. Before you say another word, son, I’d like to go for a walk with you.

Of course, Father, Travis said, still polite and respectful.

He pushed his father along the hallway, out the back door and down the ramp to the gardens. When they were past the fountains and had reached the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, Charles Kelland stopped their progress. Both of them stood looking out to sea for awhile.

I know you’ve made up your mind, Travis, Charles said finally. You’re a man and I will not stand in your way.

Thank you, sir, Travis said quietly.

You remind me of your grandfather, Charles went on. He too was the grand adventurer. It’s all that damn Scottish blood that courses through your veins.

Grandfather wasn’t the only one, Travis observed with a smile. You have taken plenty of risks yourself, you know. If it wasn’t for the accident, you would still be scaling trees, panning for gold, and exploring the wilderness.

Charles couldn’t disagree. You’re right, of course, Travis. But none of those things were war.

This time Travis couldn’t argue and with a note of sarcasm said, Yes, Father, but wasn’t it Napoleon who said that a soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon?

Charles looked at his son differently, hearing something else in the young man’s voice. He quoted, War leaves a country with three armies—an army of cripples, an army of mourners, and an army of thieves. What will this war make you?

I suspect a thief, Father, Travis replied stoically.

What is absurd and monstrous about war is that men who have no personal quarrel are trained to kill each other, Charles said.

Travis didn’t feel like discussing the feelings he had shared with his mother. His reason for joining the Navy had practically nothing to do with fighting and everything to do with going to sea. It was too difficult to explain and would sound trite in the end. Yes, it was a grand adventure, but it went far deeper than that.

So they remained there, silently reflecting and spending time as father and son, perhaps for the very last time. Neither wanted to move from that place, but both were well aware that certain things that should be said, would not be. Perhaps it was foolish pride or perhaps men rely too much on the unspoken bond ofblood, but words seemed incapable of communicating what was really being shared between them just then.

A huge feast was prepared for Travis that evening, with Mrs. Fairchild cooking all his favorite dishes. Sir Kelland refrained from inviting any of his influential friends and associates, deciding this meal should be only for the immediate family.

The dinner, however, was quite subdued and no one ate very much. Mrs. Kelland excused herself from the table and escorted the girls upstairs to take their baths. That left Travis alone with his father again.

You’ll break your mother’s heart if you don’t write, son, Charles said sternly. I know you’re going to war, but a simple note, now and again, will keep her from worrying so.

Yes, Father, I will remember, Travis said.

Sir Kelland rolled along in his wheelchair, but stopped suddenly to face his son. I do not approve of your decision, but that doesn’t matter now. You are a man and must do what you believe is right. This is still your home and we are your family. Come back when this madness is over and take your rightful place as the head of the Kelland clan.

Travis smiled and shook his father’s hand. I will, Father, I promise.

Then Travis did something he had never done in all of his years alive. He put his arms around his father and hugged him with all his might.

Sir Charles came very close to breaking down in tears, but managed to maintain control. He patted Travis on the back and hugged him back. You’re going to make a fine officer, Travis.

Thank you, Father, Travis said. I will certainly do my best.

Off to bed with you then, the elder Kelland commanded. I will make certain you have a proper send-off in the morning.

Sir Charles was true to his word.

For as the sun rose with the dawn, Travis awoke to the sound of bagpipes, and the unique and haunting notes sent shivers up and down his spine. Hurriedly he dressed and ran downstairs, his kitbag already packed and waiting by the front door. A lone kilted piper stood near the picket fence gate, a fitting and proper farewell played perfectly. Travis came to a sudden halt, as he could see the entire family was gathered on the walk, waiting for him.

The goodbyes were very emotional, with Mrs. Kelland and the girls crying openly, along with most of the household staff. Only Sir Kelland was dry-eyed, though his heart was wracked with worry. Still, Travis stood tall and was obviously determined to go through with his plans.

That afternoon Travis took the train to Victoria, where he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Navy. He was assigned a number before his vital statistics were recorded—name, nationality, age, height, weight, complexion, color of eyes and hair, distinguishing marks, occupation, religion, birth place and date, marital status, and the address ofhis next-to-kin. There was also a column for remarks by the enlisting officer.

He was received with open arms by the Navy recruiter, for the Kelland name was well known throughout British Columbia. Travis passed his physical examination and received perfect scores on all three written aptitude tests.

You have what they’re looking for, Master Kelland, that’s for certain, Chief Petty Officer Hartnell said, looking over the results. It is a grand thing, your father sacrificing his only son for Canada’s defense.

Yes, isn’t it, Travis said, wishing only to forget the look in his father’s eyes before his departure.

Would you care to listen to a word of advice, my lad? the CPO asked.

Of course, sir, Travis replied, equally as polite.

When you complete your basic training, request service with MTB’s, the veteran sailor suggested.

MTB’s? Kelland asked.

Motor Torpedo Boats, Hartnell replied. Fast and deadly they are.

Kelland’s mind had been set on a destroyer, cruiser, or perhaps even a battleship.

The Chief Petty Officer knew the look. Another youngster convinced he could just step aboard a capital ship and sail into battle. "Take it from me. If you want to make your mark in the RCN, then don’t get buried on the rosters of a ship-of-the-line. To stand out, you must make a name for yourself, hunting down U-boats or attacking