GrataTuesday-Horrible Sausages and Albino Porcupines

 Welcome back, everyone! I hope you enjoy this week's GrataTuesday! Sorry about skipping out on last week's post. I had lots of school work and some SFTO (Self Forced Time Off*). As always, GrataTuesday is brought to you in part by the GrataToad and the letters I, O and U. 

A teenager sits next to an old man on a bench...

... and the old man will not stop staring at him. The kid had a long, spiky mohawk that was different colours. His arms and neck were covered in tattoos, and multiple piercings in his nostrils and ears.

Finally, the kid, sick of the old man staring at him says, "What's the matter old man? Ain't you never done anything crazy in your life?"

Without missing a beat the old man replies, "When I was young I got drunk and had sex with a parrot once - I was wondering if you were my son."

Change is hard, especially when it is forced on you and there is nothing you can do about it. At the same time, it is amazing to be able to look back and see how that change has shaped your life. 

I was always kind of a strange kid, emotional, chubby and strangely sentimental. I was super passionate about what made me happy, and I hung on to memories and feelings more than most. I tried for years to find "my thing," twelve years to be exact. 

I found my thing on Thursday, September 18, 1998, approx. 1830h. 

That was when I got out of my neighbor's van and stepped into the now-demolished Building 20, on the grounds of the former CFB Cornwallis. I am definitely not the only person whose life was greatly altered by those four walls since they were erected in 1942, but it doesn't lessen the impact they had on my life. I would have never believed how much time I was going to spend on that piece of hallowed ground if you would have told me that night. I attempted to do the math once and concluded that between the ages of twelve and nineteen, I spent a total of three years worth of time there. 

There were thirteen other new recruits join alongside me that evening. By the spring of 2004, we were down to two of us. 

We had seven years and a banana cream pie fight (or 2) behind us, and what a crazy seven years they were. 

The commanding officer of RCSCC #26 Cornwallis in the fall of 1998 was Lt(N), W.J Lear, the Cox'n was Cpo1 Amy Peach, and they both will likely get their own GrataTuesday post, but until then, let's fast forward a few years, shall we? 

It was early (almost) spring 2001, a few weeks after my birthday.

I had worked my way up the ranks rather quickly and was developing a love of instructing and (if I do say so myself) becoming quite the young leader. We had invited a new officer, civilian instructor and two new cadets to our small corps; that is when the life lessons started. 

Lt(n) K.P Cardinell former commanding officer of RCSCC #102 Fraser, his wife, Mary Ellan and sons Darrell (Don't worry, I came to appreciate Darrell too!) and Trevor joined us that spring from British Colombia. Upon first meeting the family, I concluded that 50% of them were welcome to stay; the remainder could commence their long walk…off my short pier.

Our little cadet unit was doing just fine. We didn't need the help, I didn't like change, and Lt(N) Cardinell was a meany McMeanface, or so I thought. I remember my first one-on-one conversation with Lt(N) Cardinell; he had taken on the role of band officer and was overseeing one of our practices. I was playing bass drum that year. But I was sitting in with the glock players, and Janette (My former partner in crime) was trying to teach them "This Land is Your Land." 

I remember him commenting that it was one of his all-time favourite songs. I remember the moment that things changed for us. It was May, and in the days leading up to our Anual Cadet Review, we were rehearsing non-stop. One of my fellow bandmates, our cymbal player, was really getting under my skin. I was fed up and tired of his crap, and in the middle of a march past rehearsal, I snapped. I stepped out of formation, put my drum down and walked off the parade square. The first thought that popped into my head, once my urge to smash my cymbal player in the nose with my drum mallet, was, "Oh man, Lt(N) Cardinell is going to eat me alive for that." 

I had calmed down and was sitting in the chief's and PO's mess (our staff room and cadet free area) when I heard the door open, and in he walked, sitting down in a chair across the table from me. 

I was scared shitless, and I figured I was in a mountain of trouble. That was when he calmly looked at me and said, "Ya, know PO, I would have liked to hit him with the drum mallet myself if I was in your shoes." and he smiled. I sat there in shock for a few seconds, and I couldn't hold it in. The laughter came out of my mouth with no warning. We were both laughing so hard that we were struggling to breathe. I ended up getting a finger-wagging, being told that I could have expressed my frustration with my bandmate in a more professional manner, but luckily there were no repercussions other than that. 

The following September, Lt(N) Cardinell took over as commanding officer, more and more of his personality started to bleed through. 

He was no longer a hard-assed, ex-cop, retired navy diver from Vancouver who was here to take all of the joy out of life. 

He was kind and hilarious while still commanding respect from the ship's company. He would frequently call out members for being late or having deplorable dress, drill and deportment, calling them "horrible sausages," all the while pushing us to be the best cadets and young adults we could be. 

A few years later, in the summer of 2003, we worked together as part of the HMCS Quadra Flotilla. He, the captain of YAG 320 and my self the cook on board YAG 319. We saw a lot of each other, but there are two particular incidents that stick out in my mind, but first, a little back story. 

I had taken the final cookery specialty course in the summer of 2002 onboard HMCS Quadra and fell in love with Vancouver Island. I had met so many friends, friends I am still in touch with to this day. I couldn't wait to get back. In March of 2003, I was hired as a flotilla cook for a week-long excursion that at the time was called Quest. 

I loved cooking on the Yags. They were 75-foot wooden boats owned and operated as training vessels by the Canadian Navy, and loaned out to Cadets Canada for seamanship training. I was so excited to get back to Quadra that summer. I had applied for a cook position and was positive I would get it! But I didn't... not at first anyway. I didn't make the first round of staff picks at all, and I was devastated. My summers at cadet camp were some of the best of my life, and I was crushed that I wouldn't be going back. 

A few weeks after the first round was announced, I received a phone call from the Pac region staffing office offering me a contract for the summer. I would be working in the admin office, in a brand new position (that was never in place before or after that summer!). I always had a sneaking suspicion that Lt(N) Cardinell had pulled strings to get me out there. Once out there, I wasn't in the office for long. Once the Flot crew got back from their first week of training, the captain of YAG 319 (who just so happened to be the same captain I cooked for during Quest.) demanded I be transferred to her boat and her cook be sent anywhere but there. Shortly after I received the word of my transfer, I ran into Lt(N) Cardinell and excitedly told him the good news. He didn't at all seem surprised. He just cracked his half-smile and said, well, it's a good thing you were out here already, or you wouldn't have gotten the position and then gave me an order to be at the mess hall that evening to load provisions for our next sail.

During one of our seven-day sails, we went to a little inlet called Refuge Cove, home of a beautiful provincial park. Teakerne Arm was home to castle lake, a huge volcanic lake that we had to take a zodiac and hike twenty-five minutes to reach. Well, I had been getting charlie horse cramps in my legs and, of course, had one hit while I was in the middle of the lake, trying to wash my hair. The other staff cadets and I decided that was enough swimming, and it was time to start the trip back to our boat. During the hike back, I lost my footing and fell off a cliff into a waterfall approach. I scared the poop out of my friend, Calin, sprained my ankle and put a huge gash into the side of my PFD that I was wearing because I was too lazy to carry it. Luckily Calin was able to help me up the rock face, and I hobbled back to the zodiac, fueled by every single curse word I knew. I used all my sailor words that day! We got back to our vessels that were anchored in the cove, and who was waiting for us like a panicked father? Yep, Lt(N) Cardinell. He reached into the zodiac and hauled me aboard. He didn't say a word, but I will never forget the look on his face. 

Later that summer, I do believe it may have even been our final sail we were anchored in Henery Bay not far from Quadra. We were all getting ready for lunch. We jokingly put cadets with squirt guns at each vessel's stanchions (there were three of us). They were our moc boarding party, given the order to "shoot" anyone who dear try and board. The young cadet on our vessel was a small and extremely quiet kid. She timidly stood there with her super soaker, and as I was passing by, was permitting Lt(N) Cardinell to board our vessel without the proper authorization. Of course, I had to say something, so I called the cadet out for not doing as ordered and shooting trespassers on site. I marched over, took her hand holding the squirt gun, and aided her in opening fire on the unauthorized intruder. BOY...WAS THAT A MISTAKE!

Lt(N) Cardinell said nothing, his stoic expression never changed. Seconds passed, just enough for me to know I was really in for it. When he looked down to the dark blue wet spot on his NCD shirt, dead center on his chest, looked back up at me and said, "PO, don't you have dinner to serve your cadets? They must be hungry." 

I sheepishly responded with a "yes, sir." and retreated to my galley. 

As I brought up the lunch for my cadets, I passed off a milk crate full of dishes to someone in the aft cabin, and as I walked across the deck to return to my galley, I was hit broadside with a salty, cold high presser blast from the Honda pump/ deck hose. A tremendous water fight ensued, soaking everyone and everything. We had Honda pumps and fire hoses rigged, buckets full, and from out of nowhere, water balloons were exploding on the deck all around us. 

I will NEVER forget the look on his face when I stood up from being knocked down by the initial blast from the deck hose. I can still see his face when I close my eyes.

Lt(N) Kenneth Patrick Cardinell passed away, December 17, 2013, and many were heartbroken, but today his youngest son Trever announced his engagement, and I couldn't help but reminisce on all the life lessons he taught me, whether he knew it or not. I know he would have been so proud of his children, grandchildren and each and every one of us that had the pleasure of calling ourselves one of his cadets. 

Thank you for everything, Sir! 

*Most of you know how bad I am with taking time for myself, and sometimes I have to force myself not to work. It is really difficult for me, and only now (more than a year after a stress-induced breakdown) am I able to start taking time for myself without it causing severe anxiety. 

On deck of the HMCS Regina (I think) 

I am really sad this photo has the shadow it does. This was my final cadet mess dinner.
I ended up challenging Lt(N) Cardinell to a game of pool later that evening. My first mistake was 
challenging him, my second was trying to play pool in that dress. I do believe I ended up wearing his mess jacket, so I didn't have an unfair advantage. 

A moc mess dinner in the aft cabin of one of our beloved Yags