Noble Regina, capital of Saskatchewan and named for our own Queen Victoria, is home to one of Canada’s most recognizable and venerable institutions: the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Their red jackets, broad-brimmed hats and old-fashioned britches are the stuff of legend – as well they should be. Their history is full of heroic tales, from the epic March West of 1874 to the meeting with Sitting Bull and searching for the Lost Patrol, and, today, they lead the world in police and military training from the depot in Regina. The Sunset Retreat, when the flag is lowered at the end of the day and God Save The Queen is sung, echoes the British Army's splendid Beating Retreat and such is The Queen's admiration for them that the Musical Ride performed at her Jubilee Pageant at her personal request. Thus it was with trepidation and a sense of privilege that our motley pack of journalists entered the Regina training depot for our Day as a Mountie.
The North-West Mounted Police was established in 1873 when Governor-General Dufferin signed the order that confirmed their existence, but the story really began with the March West from July 8th 1874 that aimed to drive out the illegal whisky trade from the newly settled prairies. Still the longest military march ever, the force of 275 officers and men, 310 horses and the usual assortment of camp staff marched 1,500km west from Fort Dufferin in a journey that took three months. Led by Sandhurst-educated Commissioner George Arthur French, they carried two mortars and two nine-pounder field guns, but word of their coming spread by moccasin telegraph and the whisky traders scarpered before anything was fired. From the beginning, in stark contrast to the activities of the US Army below the border, relations with the First Nation people were characterized by diplomacy, understanding and compassion. The difficulties engendered by the disappearance of the buffalo and the growing numbers of white settlers were recognized and promises of help were kept. From a chain of forts across the southern plains, the NWMP treated the First Nation peoples the same as the white settlers, enforcing the same laws and showing the same justice, a rare example of 19th-century ethnic equality. In turn, the First Nations welcomed the role of the mounted police in stopping the whisky trade that was so detrimental to their lives.
A story from 1875 shows the remarkable friendships that sometimes developed between old and new settlers. Superintendent James Morrow Walsh was charged with pacifying and controlling the thousands of potentially dangerous Sioux who had fled across the border in the aftermath of General Custer’s raids. Breaking several police guidelines, Walsh rode unarmed into Sioux chief Sitting Bull’s camp with only a couple of aides, leapt down and shook the chief's hand, an action that was either very brave or very foolish. Sitting Bull must have considered it the former, as the two became as friendly as two such people can be, and the Sioux remained peaceful and law-abiding for the duration of their sojourn in Canada. Subsequent treaties signed with the First Nations meant the Canadian provinces were seldom ravaged by the kind of bitter fighting between white soldiers and native warriors that characterized the American West.
The Mounties Band marches past the Canadian Flag during the Sunset Retreat
The North-West Mounted Police was established in 1873 when Governor-General Dufferin signed the order that confirmed their existence, but the story really began with the March West from July 8th 1874 that aimed to drive out the illegal whisky trade from the newly settled prairies. Still the longest military march ever, the force of 275 officers and men, 310 horses and the usual assortment of camp staff marched 1,500km west from Fort Dufferin in a journey that took three months. Led by Sandhurst-educated Commissioner George Arthur French, they carried two mortars and two nine-pounder field guns, but word of their coming spread by moccasin telegraph and the whisky traders scarpered before anything was fired. From the beginning, in stark contrast to the activities of the US Army below the border, relations with the First Nation people were characterized by diplomacy, understanding and compassion. The difficulties engendered by the disappearance of the buffalo and the growing numbers of white settlers were recognized and promises of help were kept. From a chain of forts across the southern plains, the NWMP treated the First Nation peoples the same as the white settlers, enforcing the same laws and showing the same justice, a rare example of 19th-century ethnic equality. In turn, the First Nations welcomed the role of the mounted police in stopping the whisky trade that was so detrimental to their lives.
James Farquarson Macleod, second Commissioner of the North-West Mounted Police
A story from 1875 shows the remarkable friendships that sometimes developed between old and new settlers. Superintendent James Morrow Walsh was charged with pacifying and controlling the thousands of potentially dangerous Sioux who had fled across the border in the aftermath of General Custer’s raids. Breaking several police guidelines, Walsh rode unarmed into Sioux chief Sitting Bull’s camp with only a couple of aides, leapt down and shook the chief's hand, an action that was either very brave or very foolish. Sitting Bull must have considered it the former, as the two became as friendly as two such people can be, and the Sioux remained peaceful and law-abiding for the duration of their sojourn in Canada. Subsequent treaties signed with the First Nations meant the Canadian provinces were seldom ravaged by the kind of bitter fighting between white soldiers and native warriors that characterized the American West.
An exhibit in the excellent RCMP Heritage Centre
The winter months were a dangerous time for all those whose lives kept them outside in the bitter cold. From 1894, the NWMP controlled land from the Alaska-Yukon border to Baffin Island, keeping the peace and establishing Canadian sovereignty. The true challenge came in 1896 when gold was discovered in Bonanza Creek and the Klondike Gold Rush began. North America was in the midst of a depression and thousands flocked to the siren song of the gold, but, inevitably, lawlessness followed. The Alaska-Yukon border was particularly dangerous, with Americans effectively stealing Canadian gold, but they reckoned without Sam Steele, Lion of the Yukon. A giant of a man, trusted and admired by all, he imposed order and taxes on gold-diggers, helped by the fact that the pass to Alaska was so narrow that it admitted only one man at a time. Snow forbade the use of any other route, but if it was helpful in that case, it was fatal on many occasions. One such was in 1910, when four officers set out to make the 620-mile trip from Fort McPherson, Northwest-Territories, to Dawson City, Yukon. They had food for 30 days, 15 dogs and three sleds, and no inkling of what was to come. Special Constable Carter had done the journey before and was to act as guide, but it soon became clear that he was hopelessly lost. Inspector Fitzgerald wrote his last entry in his diary on February 5, 1911, day 47 of the march, before all members of the Lost Patrol succumbed to starvation and cold. On every subsequent such journey, a native guide was hired to ensure the safety of the patrols.
The Canadian flag flying proudly over the RCMP training depot in Regina
In 1904, Edward VII granted the force the prefix Royal and, in 1974, women were admitted for the first time. Now, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police is one of the finest forces in the world and armies and policemen from all over the world come to avail themselves of the state-of-the-art training depot in Regina. The core values of Honesty, Integrity, Professionalism, Accountability, Compassion and Respect are manifest in everything they do; indeed, such is their importance that an otherwise excellent cadet was asked to leave because it was found she had once lied, and covered up that lie, in her training. Thus, when we entered the depot and donned our T-shirts and caps as members of M-troop, we were treading hallowed ground and all we wanted to do was live up to their exacting standards.
Members of M-Troop with our Mountie leaders
Cadets at the Regina depot have already undergone a lengthy selection process with everything from physical tests to reliability interviews, so few drop out of the exacting six-month training. And it is exacting – as we can testify. Dinner in the Mess was followed by a tour of the site with a newly arrived troop, a group of fresh-faced recruits who gave us a terrific welcome and an insight into both the fun parts (the camaraderie, the uniforms) and the harder bits (sharing a dorm, doubling). We were lucky enough not to experience either of the latter - we had our own en-suite rooms in D Block and could walk instead of doubling. This is the way new recruits get around the base, running in pairs with short steps and fists held to chests. After a period of learning to drill, they are allowed to march, but misdemeanours by one or more can set the whole troop doubling again. Troops are considered one unit and one below-par cadet can dock privileges, even parts of their uniform, for everyone.
Intending to go to bed early before the big day, we had a quick pre-midnight feast in my room, which yielded a chance to show who was the real man among us on this Man-Up tour. Getting up to leave, Stuart remarked casually 'there's a bat under the chest of drawers'. Given that he is prone to pranks, we didn't believe him at first, but sure enough, an ancient ex-bat was there, one that had ceased to be, deceased, kicked the bucket and flown off to join the choir invisible. I confess that Jodi and I may have uttered a little squeak, but Finn remained impressively calm, swept the expired creature up in a towel and deposited him outside. Finnbarr Webster: Real Man.
At 5.30am the next morning, things got serious. Under the eagle (but extremely friendly) eye of Sgt Pharanae Jaques-Croisetiere, we watched Morning Parade from the sidelines, all too aware that we would have to join the troops on the parade square that lunchtime. The Canadian flag was raised, the bugles called and we trooped into breakfast, before returning to the square to learn how to march as a troop. Marching is just walking, yes? No. It's extraordinary how hard it is when you have to stay in step and watch your dressing. I have several friends in the British army and I now have a renewed respect for them.
Afterwards, we experienced the horror of the PARE test (Physical Abilities Requirement Evaluation), which blends fitness with practical things such as leaping a wall and dragging a 'dead' body around. Naturally, competitiveness kicked in and I, at least, was exhausted by the end. The PARE test itself consists of six laps of a course, which includes leaping a 'ditch' and running up and down stairs, plus a push-pull exercise. Cadets must complete it in under 4:45 minutes to get onto the training course and under 4 minutes to graduate. One lap (24 seconds!) was easy, but I wouldn't want to do six. A session of Applied Police Sciences then offered an enlightening insight into the way a policeman's mind should work. We were split up, and my group was led into another room, whereupon the projector refused to work and a technician arrived. He was followed by an angry woman who demanded why he hadn't responded to her summons that morning. Being English, I tried not to watch to spare their blushes, thinking how embarrassing it was that technology should have let the consummate professionals down. Giving up on the projector, we rejoined the others, who had, oddly enough, witnessed the very same incident with the man and woman in opposite roles. And that was exactly what we had been - witnesses. We were asked to dissect how much we remembered, and thus the differences in perception were revealed. Observation is key to good policing, and even such things as attention to one's uniform are vital. If you miss a loose thread on a shirt, how much might you miss of a crime scene? Such a practical application of something seemingly so trivial makes absolute sense.
After lunch, the dreaded moment arrived: we had to march in formation behind real Mounties. Surprisingly, it was much less onerous than I had expected and even exhilarating. I fixed my eyes on the legs of the Mountie leading our troop and the beat of the drum made it easy to keep in time. I felt a definite sense of pride in being there and being a part, even such a small part, of this daily ritual. We all managed to keep up and execute our turns neatly, and finished feeling that M-Troop hadn't looked quite as out of place as we had expected.
These two stained-glass windows at the far end of the chapel were modelled on a real Mountie. The pew at the front of the chapel is reserved for The Queen
After a delicious dinner at the Radisson Plaza Hotel in Regina, we returned to the depot to enjoy the Sunset Retreat from the sidelines, an infinitely more relaxing experience. Attended by dozens of visitors and Regina locals, it is a display of military precision, musical talent and canine intelligence, with a well-executed display of police dog work to strart things off. Much to my delight, the music included several familiar Irish and English folk tunes, adding a homely dimension to the warm Canadian evening. It was the culmination of a memorable day.
Some of you may have noticed a glaring omission in this account of the so-called Mounties - horses. Much to my dismay, the Mounties no longer ride, having given up their horses for regular work in 1966. Only two are kept on the training base, and they are retired Musical Ride horses ridden by volunteers. The Musical Ride is still very much alive, however, touring Canada and the rest of the world every summer from its Ottawa base. All riders are serving members of the RCMP who choose to do three years with the Ride and, as with the Household Cavalry in Britain, not all of them can ride before they take up the posting. Remarkably, all the horses, mainly Thoroughbred and Hanoverian, are bred by the RCMP in Ontario. The Ride is the last reminder of the early decades of the RCMP and, with the hats, red tunics and breeches still worn by officers, is a proud symbol of a proud nation.
Echoes of Sandhurst: the main parade square in the early morning
Intending to go to bed early before the big day, we had a quick pre-midnight feast in my room, which yielded a chance to show who was the real man among us on this Man-Up tour. Getting up to leave, Stuart remarked casually 'there's a bat under the chest of drawers'. Given that he is prone to pranks, we didn't believe him at first, but sure enough, an ancient ex-bat was there, one that had ceased to be, deceased, kicked the bucket and flown off to join the choir invisible. I confess that Jodi and I may have uttered a little squeak, but Finn remained impressively calm, swept the expired creature up in a towel and deposited him outside. Finnbarr Webster: Real Man.
Pre-eminent members of the British press at a very
grown-up dorm-room pre-midnight feast
At 5.30am the next morning, things got serious. Under the eagle (but extremely friendly) eye of Sgt Pharanae Jaques-Croisetiere, we watched Morning Parade from the sidelines, all too aware that we would have to join the troops on the parade square that lunchtime. The Canadian flag was raised, the bugles called and we trooped into breakfast, before returning to the square to learn how to march as a troop. Marching is just walking, yes? No. It's extraordinary how hard it is when you have to stay in step and watch your dressing. I have several friends in the British army and I now have a renewed respect for them.
Sgt Jaques at Morning Parade
Proper marching at Sunset Retreat
Perfectly straight lines, or dressing
The magnificent drill hall, currently out of bounds due to work on the floor
Lining up in height order, with the exception of our 'right marker', Jodi, on the left
Trying not to embarrass ourselves in front of Sergeant Major Patterson...
Getting there! Extraordinary how hard it is when you try to swing your arms
Sgt Jaques giving the history of the Memorial. When passing, Mounties must
still their arms and look towards it between the flanking flagpoles
Going round a corner and keeping in step, just
More or less in time as we leave the square
Putting our best foot forward past a very official audience
Almost giddy with relief, we headed to the Firearms Training Unit to try our hand at firing a Smith & Wesson 9mm automatic pistol. I've fired a shotgun before, but never a handgun, and it's not easy! The upwards recoil was such that my first few shots hit the ceiling, but I did get a good few hits in. The bad guy would definitely have bitten the dust, at least, if he had stood still and let me take aim... After a diversion caused by an adorable four-month-old puppy just beginning his training as a police dog, we headed to our final destination, the Simulators. 'State-of-the-art' only scratches the surface of the kit in here, and it is these driving and shooting simulators that draw police forces and armies from around the world, even Britain. The shooting simulator allows you to fire blanks at moving targets, duck behind post boxes and chairs and generally imitate a real-life situation. It works alongside full-size mock-ups of shopping malls, for example, to train the force in every way possible. I was looking forward to the driving simulators, being rather nifty behind a wheel (after a few laps of Donington Park in an Aston Martin Vantage last year, my instructor said I was the best he'd had all day), but any cockiness left shortly after I had inadvertently parked in the flatbed of a truck when I failed to stop for an accident on a freeway in time. The emphasis is on observation, as there is no motion for braking or accelerating, so it is extremely difficult to tell how fast you are going. Apparently, when the sirens are on and the lights are going, drivers forget to look at their speedos, so this simulates the atmosphere, not only the images, of a real-life experience. It was great fun, but definitely eye-opening. Our last stop was a visit to the chapel, the oldest building on the base, to be presented with our certificates by Assistant Commissioner Louise Lafrance. An extremely proud moment.
These two stained-glass windows at the far end of the chapel were modelled on a real Mountie. The pew at the front of the chapel is reserved for The Queen
Receiving my certificate from A/Comm Lafrance in the RCMP chapel
After a delicious dinner at the Radisson Plaza Hotel in Regina, we returned to the depot to enjoy the Sunset Retreat from the sidelines, an infinitely more relaxing experience. Attended by dozens of visitors and Regina locals, it is a display of military precision, musical talent and canine intelligence, with a well-executed display of police dog work to strart things off. Much to my delight, the music included several familiar Irish and English folk tunes, adding a homely dimension to the warm Canadian evening. It was the culmination of a memorable day.
All eagerness: a well-trained dog and his handler
Firing the salute
The band marches away from the chapel, the oldest building in Regina
Some of you may have noticed a glaring omission in this account of the so-called Mounties - horses. Much to my dismay, the Mounties no longer ride, having given up their horses for regular work in 1966. Only two are kept on the training base, and they are retired Musical Ride horses ridden by volunteers. The Musical Ride is still very much alive, however, touring Canada and the rest of the world every summer from its Ottawa base. All riders are serving members of the RCMP who choose to do three years with the Ride and, as with the Household Cavalry in Britain, not all of them can ride before they take up the posting. Remarkably, all the horses, mainly Thoroughbred and Hanoverian, are bred by the RCMP in Ontario. The Ride is the last reminder of the early decades of the RCMP and, with the hats, red tunics and breeches still worn by officers, is a proud symbol of a proud nation.
A poster in the Heritage Centre advertising the sale
of RCMP horses in 1966
Two retired horses, ridden by volunteers, join the Sunset Retreat
I couldn't help but think of the King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery,
with their six horses per gun. I'm sure the Mounties pulling this gun
would appreciate the help!
A horse, a horse! At last!
No comments:
Post a Comment