A. Stczvm'! MacDonald D.F.C., MD. C..M. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Major got out his cigarette package, wrote my name and 
     
     number, and we carried on. When we finished the parade, 
     
     we had to pass in our rifles. I was holding back, not 
     
     knowing if I was to be shot at sundown, or what, when the 
     
     Sergeant Major looked at me and said, ”I don’t remember 
     
     names, neither do you. Give me your rifle.” 
     
    

    
     Shortly after, they called for a volunteer and I put 
     
     up my hand, hoping for the best. Many times there was 
     
     a call for a volunteer, such as, ”Who wants to be a pilot?” 
     
     - they always got suckers to be told, “You six men get 
     
     wheelbarrows, and pitch that dirt here and pile it there.” 
     
     Apparently I had volunteered to go to a Pilot and Basic 
     
     Training school in Jarvis and within an hour I was on my 
     
     way, glad to leave Toronto. 
     
    

    
     On arrival we were given rifles, and the first order 
     
     was General Salute, Present Arms. Our job there was 
     
     tarmac duty, which was a type of guarding the camp. We 
     
     were placed in a small building about the size and shape of 
     
     our country backhouses. You stood up for two hours with 
     
     a rifle fully loaded, and with marching music coming out 
     
     of a loud speaker above the door going into the barracks. 
     
     (One must remember that I did not keep any notes, and 
     
     these experiences are recalled after 56 years and written 
     
     up by an 86 year old man, who at this very moment is 
     
     awaiting a call to go to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital to 
     
     assist in an operation.) During the day we attended many 
     
     classes. We were given a white, three corner cloth to place 
     
     in our caps, to show that we were potential officers. We 
     
     displayed those with great pleasure, setting us aside from 
     
     those we called ”ordinary Air Force personnel." 
     
    

    
     One of the first days in the class teaching Morse 
     
     code, (in ITS at the Hunt Club in Toronto) the instructor 
     
     said, ”I am sending this code at eight words a minute to 
     
     show you how fast it is before you get a pass from here.” 
     
    
   
   
    
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