2. Firefight

Prologue to ‘Reservist: Weekend Warrior’ Tales

In the 1970’s, when I was 16 and still in high school, I joined the Elgin Regiment, a militia unit in St. Thomas Ontario. At that time the ‘Elgins’ were a light-armoured reconnaissance unit. In the case of our unit, light-armoured meant four wheel drive jeeps and trucks, although, training was also done with the regular army and true armoured vehicles. The first two stories in this ‘Reservist: Weekend Warrior’ Tales series, 1. Crash and 2. Firefight, should be read in that order (1. Crash first). Names have been avoided or, when a name is necessary, a name has been changed. I hope you enjoy this glimpse of reservist experiences from the 70’s.

2. Firefight

Early 1970’s; Summer; Near CFB Petawawa, Ontario.

The sudden pop and sizzle of burning phosphorous in the distance startled me and I froze in the middle of the dirt road. Illuminated in the glare of the trip flare, several combat-clothed men with rifles were spread across the roadway about seventy yards in front of me. They and I and the mounted machine guns on the jeeps at our roadblock opened fire simultaneously. People were yelling but nothing they shouted could be understood in the deafening gunfire. I fired my submachine gun in bursts in their direction. The infantrymen dropped to laying positions and continued to shoot at us despite being overwhelmingly outgunned. Large, grotesquely distorted shadows danced on the washed-out green of the trees along the road and the barrels of the vehicle-mounted machine guns shot flames a foot out from their ends as they fired in long bursts of automatic gunfire Get off the road! The sudden thought jolted me and I ran toward my jeep which was backed into some bushes beside the gravel shoulder of the country lane.

My crew commander was hunched over the .30 calibre machine gun, mounted on a swivel on the jeep body, and firing a steady volley at the unknown soldiers on the road. The flare’s flickering became more extreme as the area of illumination shrank and a minute later the flare had burnt out. I recognized my troop sergeant’s voice as he shouted to cease fire. Haltingly, the din of the machine guns stopped and shortly after the sporadic rifle shots from the prone soldiers stopped as well. It was dark again but I could make out the shadowy figures of men on the road. A strong, male voice called out for the enemy soldiers to come forward in single file. My crew commander, a heavy set Polish guy about my age, turned his head toward me but in the darkness I could barely make out his features. He asked me if I thought I was John Wayne or something. I laughed as I thought it must have looked that way while I was standing in the middle of the road blasting away. If it had been a real firefight I would be dead.