The First Snow of Winter Read online

  The First Snow of Winter

  © 2001 by Fred Allen. 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.

  National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Allen, Fred, 1922-

  The first snow of winter

  Includes index.

  ISBN 1-55212-879-2

  I. Title.

  PS8551.L5545F57 2001C813’.6C2 0 01-9112 08-4

  PR9199.4.A44F57 2001

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4

  Contents

  FOREWORD

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  POST SCRIPT

  FOREWORD

  The First Snow if Winter now emerges from a period of gestation that extends for more than fifty years. A period sufficient-according to my oldest son, Brian,-to bring forth a herd of elephants.

  This novel is a work of fiction but it is inevitable that it will reflect impressions gained in a variety of careers, life in nearly all parts of Canada and several other countries that extends even beyond the gestation period mentioned above to those wonderful years of growing up in beautiful Fredericton.

  These included the days in York Street and Charlotte Street Public Schools where a variety of teachers made valiant efforts to convince me as to the value of education. Most memorable were the extremely fair minded principal at Charlotte Street, Rolph Nevers and the indomitable Grade V teacher Emma Betts who was so strict but so fair and whose teaching of arithmetic succeeded in introducing me to discipline and order that have served me well.

  Unfortunately my successful experience in Grade V-I was repeating the year after a disastrous experience inYork Street PS-did not extend beyond Grade VI and the first half of Grade VII when I encountered teachers who practiced a form of favoritism that is reflected in most schools that draw their students from both sides of the tracks.

  When I look back over seventy-nine years there are so many to whom I must express my gratitude. First to Desmond Pacey, Alfred Bailey, Conrad Wright and Bill Smith all professors at the University of New Brunswick who saw some of the same promise that Emma Betts had seen many years earlier when the University admitted me as an adult although not necessarily a mature student. A few more details of my early years will be found in the Post Script at the end of this book and for greater details readers must await my fourth book (my second The Faith of Maria is now complete and the third The Enclave is approaching completion) which will be devoted to lifetime impressions consisting of ideas, observations, regrets on missed opportunities and, most of all, the sanity preserving component of laughter.

  But there are a few other people who deserve special mention. First there is my daughter Judy Taylor who took time from her busy life as an RN and being the world’s best grandmother for our five great-grandchildren to read my book and make valued observations. To my oldest son, Brian, who offered wise counsel although even in his present capacity as a 747 Captain has difficulty in forgetting his Air Force career where jet jockeys always tend to look down on “grunts” or “brown jobs” such as me. My thanks to my second son

  Terry also for wise counsel and to his son, my grandson Jamie, who, with the assistance of my third son, Michael, succeeded in dragging me out of the age of the quill pen and into the age of the word processor.

  Others who have taken time from their busy lives to read my book and make valued contributions include niece Betty Jantz and husband Arnold, niece Pat Mills and husband Steven, nephew Danny Boyne, my sister Doris Fanjoy of Fredericton (Nashwaaksis) and also to my old friend, Sally Pengelley, an indefatigable colleague in the struggle for teacher pensions against a stubborn self-serving government bureaucracy and the apathy of teacher leadership. Sally kindly agreed to review my book and offered both encouragement and valued observations.

  I would also be remiss if I did not extend my sincere thanks to my old friend Lt-Col Ed Schrader and his wife Linda for reviewing my literary efforts and offering many valuable suggestions. Ed retired from the Canadian Armed Forces in 1999 after nearly 50 years during which he served with nearly every unit in the Royal Regiment of Canadian Artillery and always with quiet distinction.

  Finally, my acknowledgements would never be complete without recognition of the superlative final proof reading carried out by our friend Angela Carpenter. Angela is an English expatriot who has resided in Canada for many years but has never lost the mastery of the English language that is a hallmark of the English educational system. Angela really did a remarkable job of proof reading my novel and all the more remarkable by her refusal to be deterred from the task by the frequent reference to “Limey bastards” liberally sprinkled throughout the chapters featuring “Sharkey” and his mentor Father O’Brien.

  But most of all I must thank my wife of nearly fifty-five years, Nell, whose patience in the face of my endless procrastination made this book possible.

  (Fred Allen)

  Thornhill, Ontario

  May, 2001

  Chapter I

  STORM WARNING

  It was early in the afternoon of Tuesday, November 12th, 1963 and the two occupants of the Quebec Police patrol car had been alerted about the storm over the Gulf of Saint Lawrence before they had left Levis early that morning. At the wheel was Corporal Boisseneau, a ten year veteran of the force, and with him was Constable Huard who had only been on the force for a month and was paired with Boisseneau for “in job training”.

  It was snowing heavily and the intensity of the wind had increased to the point where visibility was greatly reduced. Boisseneau thought that this must be the leading edge of the storm that was expected in this area the following day. Huard was working on the radio but had no success in contacting either their detachment in Levis or even the much closer QPP office in Riviere-du-Loup which they had visited an hour earlier.

  The Corporal decided that the worsening weather conditions would probably result in detailed instructions on traffic control. After doing what they could to ensure that vehicles remained on the main highway, Boisseneau and Huard looked for a telephone so they could contact their Detachment Office for instructions.

  Visibility was nearly zero when they arrived at a rest area where they knew there was an emergency phone at the entrance to the Tourist Info
rmation Bureau. Boisseneau carefully eased the patrol car into the narrow entrance to the rest area and as visibility became even worse, he steered the vehicle, now almost entirely from memory, towards the center of the rest area where he remembered the Tourist Information Bureau was located. Boisseneau also remembered that the telephone was just beside the entrance to the bureau.

  When they reached the path that led up to the entrance to the bureau, the main highway was completely blotted out by the wildly blowing snow and they did not see the two cars-a green station wagon followed very closely by a large black Cadillac-moving very slowly along the highway towards Riviere-du-Loupe.

  Their telephone call to the Section Office was answered by Staff-Sergeant Therrien, Detachment Commander, who had been trying to reach them by radio for nearly an hour. A highway emergency had been declared in response to the storm coming in from the Gulf of St. Lawrence earlier than expected and all highways were being closed after repeated warnings to travelers. Visibility was so bad that plows and sanders would not be deployed until conditions improved. The Staff-Sergeant’s greatest fear was that a few vehicles may have slipped through the road blocks because the weather had closed in so quickly.

  Boisseneau assured his Staff-Sergeant that they had encountered no traffic between Riviere-du-Loup and the rest area, and that they had placed barriers on the local roads leading off the main highway in accordance with standard operating procedures when dangerous storms were imminent.

  The Staff-Sergeant was particularly concerned with the turn off to County Road #15 which was a little used alternative route that had been used during recent major construction on the Trans Canada Highway between Riviere-du-Loup and Edmundston in Northern New Brunswick. Boisseneau assured his Staff-Sergeant that he and Constable Huard had placed one of the barriers left over from the period of construction across the turn off thus blocking the entrance to the county road from the main highway.

  Boisseneau and Huard had no way of knowing that, even as they gave their assurances to the StaffSergeant, their hastily constructed barrier had been removed by a particularly heavy gust of wind and was now blocking the main highway. This happened just as the green station wagon and the black Cadillac came up to the intersection. Following the apparent direction provided by the barrier, now across the main highway, the station wagon turned onto the county road followed closely by the Cadillac.

  The Staff-Sergeant told Boisseneau that all patrol cars were being ordered off the highways with instructions to stay where they were. He advised Boisseneau to use the tourist information bureau where there were emergency supplies and gave the location of a key hidden near the main entrance for just such emergencies. His final instruction, to be carried out only if conditions improved significantly, was to travel back towards Riviere-du-Loup to check for any vehicles that may have got through the road blocks.

  Boisseneau located the key and opened the door to the tourist bureau. The gas stove was started, supplies were located and water was quickly on the boil for coffee. Telephone communications were reestablished with Staff-Sergeant Therrien who advised them that their families would be assured that they were safe and out of the storm. The two policemen settled down to watch through the big picture window as the snow continued to swirl around the front of the building. Visibility was such that they could barely see their patrol car parked directly in front of the building let alone any trace of the main highway which was about fifty yards farther away.

  During the next hour the storm continued but appeared to be more blowing than actual snowing. However, the snow that had fallen, now driven by near gale force wind produced almost continuous “whiteouts”. Occasionally, the wind eased up and the picture framed by the broad window reminded them of scenes depicted on popular Christmas cards. Everything was so clean and dazzlingly white. All of the accumulated trash that was common to the shoulders of main highways was now covered by a carpet of gleaming white and even the shabby buildings, occasionally visible on the other side of the highway, took on an attractive rustic appearance with lines of roofs, windows and doors accentuated by coatings of driven snow.

  About two hours after they had taken refuge in the information bureau the wind appeared to have subsided sufficiently that they decided to carry out their Staff-Sergeant’s final instruction and check the highway east to Riviere-du-Loup. The heavy snowfall had resumed but wind velocity had eased enough so there was sufficient visibility to enable them to carry out their short patrol.

  As they drove slowly towards Riviere-du-Loup they noticed that the wind was once again increasing in intensity and by the time they reached the turn off to County Road #15, visibility had been reduced to the point where it would be nearly impossible to reach their objective. They decided to turn around and head back to the rest area. In the process of turning they noticed that their barrier had been blown across the road and was now blocking the main highway. They managed to move it back to its original position blocking the entrance to the county road. They checked-as best they could-for any signs of traffic having turned off onto the county road and, finding none, made their way back towards the refuge of the Tourist Bureau.

  At the bureau they reported to Staff-Sergeant Therrien that while they had been unable to reach Riviere-du-Loup they had made it to County Road #15 and had ensured that the exit from the main highway was blocked off and that they had encountered no traffic. Having checked for any signs of traffic on the county road, Cpl Boisseneau considered it unnecessary to tell his Staff-Sergeant that the original barrier had been blown across the road. The Staff-Sergeant appeared to be pleased with their report and commended them for their efforts. The traffic emergency was still in effect. Snow plows and sanders were still grounded and all patrol cars, and their crews, were to stay where they were until they received further orders. It appeared that all traffic was now off the roads and safe.

  Meanwhile, despite Staff-Sergeant Therrien’s efforts and best intentions, the two vehicles, the green station wagon closely followed by a large black Cadillac, were moving slowly south east along County Road #15 about twenty miles from the now closed off entrance from the main highway.

  At the wheel of the station wagon, Peter Marshall was constantly aware of just how closely he was being followed by the other car. With visibility further reduced by showers of snow being thrown up by the station wagon, he could see very little more than the vague outline of the car behind him and, of course, the headlights. The driver, whoever he or she was, suffered under the misapprehension that bright lights improved visibility in blizzards. Most of the time Peter managed to avoid the near blinding glare of the headlights reflected from his rear view mirror but occasionally was unsuccessful and he had difficulty seeing the road ahead of him.

  For Jacob Rosenberg at the wheel of the Cadillac, following so closely was intentional. Earlier, while still on the main highway, he had noted the New Brunswick plates and assumed that the station wagon had a similar destination to his. This was confirmed when he got a better look at the wagon and recognized it as one quite well known around Fredericton and the property of one of the city’s most famous citizens-Peter Marshall the war hero. Having arrived at this conclusion, Jacob Rosenberg was determined to stay as close as possible to the other car. Peter Marshall, if anyone, knew where he was going and under these conditions there was no one that Jacob Rosenberg would rather be following.

  The four year old green station wagon contained Peter Marshall, his wife Marie-Louise, his daughter Sandy, his son Robbie and the baby, Wee Willie.

  Major Peter Marshall, Victoria Cross, Military Medal with Bar, French Croix de Guerre, and he had been twice Mentioned-in-Dispatches. He was nearly forty-two years of age and on a long term call out from the reserves to serve as Aide de Camp to the Lieutenant-Governor of New Brunswick-at the request of His Excellency the Lieut-Governor-and Major Marshall also served as Sergeant at Arms for the Provincial Legislature. Major Marshall was well k
nown throughout Canada as the country’s most decorated veteran of World War II. He was returning from Montreal where he had been, as usual, the Guest of Honor at his regiment’s annual reunion which was always held on the weekend closest to Remembrance Day on November 11th.

  He had been absent from Fredericton for nearly a month attending a conference with the Lieut-Governor and attending veterans’ gatherings. In his absence his wife had decided to spend a week with her parents and had driven up to Quebec City with the three children. The reunion had actually wound up with the annual church parade on Sunday and Peter had returned to Quebec City by train early on Monday.

  Marie-Louise Marshall was thirty-seven and still had the great beauty that had made her Quebec City Beauty Queen at eighteen. She had met her husband when she had been selected to participate in a Victory

  Bond Tour that would have the dual role of encouraging citizens to buy Victory Bonds and entertaining the troops in visits to various military installations. One of the stars of the tour was Lieutenant Peter Marshall who had just returned from his investiture at Buckingham Palace where he had been decorated with the Commonwealth’s highest award for gallantry, the Victoria Cross.

  They had been married five weeks later after a whirlwind courtship and an elopement from Victoria where the tour wound up. It was a civil ceremony in Bellingham in the state of Washington. As can be easily understood the marriage of the beauty queen and the war hero made the headlines in nearly every daily newspaper in Canada as this fairy tale romance caught the imagination of a war weary public.

  Alexandra (Sandy) Marshall was eighteen years of age and in her senior year in high school.

  Robert (Robbie) Marshall was twelve years old-almost thirteen he would insist-and a Grade VIII student in public school.

  William (Wee Willie) Marshall was 16 months old and the baby of the family.

  Sitting beside Jacob Rosenburg in their beautiful new Cadillac was Jacob’s wife of fifty years, Sara. Sara was about seventy-five and her husband was three years her senior. They were returning from a family celebration of their Golden Wedding Anniversary at the home of their son Dr. Paul Rosenburg in Ottawa at which they were honored by friends from Ottawa, Montreal,