Venture Part-3
Venture Cadets vs. Roadents: Rivalry fuels daring mission
One unique element in our ongoing education was the emphasis on the rivalry between the stalwart, fearless, triumphant Venture Cadets and the “roadents” – the “diseased” cadets at the Royal Roads Military College across the harbour. We were warned about any contact with these “low lifes”, building up an increasing dislike which would become supremely justified with the anticipated Venture victory in the upcoming annual Hibbard trophy rugby game.
Our Cadet Captain (Grant Smith) and Cadet Lieutenant (Wayne Halladay) then pointed out that if we were to progress at all beyond our present dismal existence at the bottom of the human spectrum, we would do something to show our disdain for the roadents, like making an assault on Royal Roads and leaving a physical reminder of our presence somewhere on their hallowed grounds.
As luck would have it, we had just been introduced to the small fleet of whalers and other small boats stored in the boatyard at the Venture end of Esquimalt Harbour. Cliff Brown and I looked at each other as the same idea came to our minds – we could get a small boat’s crew together, along with the necessary paint and brushes, and during the night, row across to Royal Roads to paint a large white V on their sacred parade square. Without being too obvious (or so we thought) we investigated the whereabouts and access to a paint locker, and quickly determined that it would be fairly easy to get our hands on a container of white paint and the requisite brushes/rollers. We then canvassed our group for volunteers and came up with the crew – Cliff, myself, John Goyeche, and two others – and set the plan in motion.
After “pipe down” on the chosen day, we waited for an hour or so, then stole away to the boatyard, via the paint locker, and clambered into the outboard whaler secured alongside the boatyard jetty. Trying to be quiet, we began to row up the harbour, remaining as far away as possible from the large frigates and destroyers berthed alongside the harbour jetties.
At this juncture, I should point out that no one in the crew was from the Victoria area – indeed, none of us had ever been to or even driven past Royal Roads. So our collective sense of the navigation required for the mission was sadly lacking. All we had been able to ascertain from a provincial road map was that Royal Roads was fronted by a large lagoon situated to the right of the harbour entrance as one departed for the Strait. This lagoon supposedly contained a jetty to provide access to the lower sports field of the college which, in turn, was fairly close to the parade square.
As we continued up the harbour, we began to realize that visibility outside the whaler was somewhat limited by the dark sky and our proximity to the water. However, the lights of the ships and the harbour provided a reliable reference for the passage so we happily continued on.
Then, upon approaching the harbour entrance, we were relieved to see the lights of Royal Roads on the right of the horizon, and began to pull away in earnest, anticipating that it wouldn’t be long before we were successfully alongside Roads and starting to “decorate” the parade square.
Unhappily, when the harbour lights began to slip behind us, we began to encounter a swell in what had been a calm sea surface, and as hard as we were pulling, we didn’t seem to be making any progress towards the distant lights. After a few more minutes, we were starting to have second thoughts about the whole idea and then the crutch for one of the oars broke and we slewed around in a flurry of uncoordinated attempts to synchronize our stroke. As we looked back towards the harbour, we realized that we had not been heading toward Royal Roads at all – in fact, we had been heading for the town of Port Angeles, Washington, directly across the Juan de Fuca strait but many long miles away!
By now, our spirits were severely diminished and our wet, cold hands were suffering from the unaccustomed demands of pulling on the increasingly heavy oars. So, as we slowly made our way back into the harbour, our attempts to be silent gone for naught, the duty watches of the large ships easily heard us, issued the predictable challenges, and then shone lights on us as we progressed back to the boatyard. When we finally came alongside, we were met by the welcoming party led by Petty Officer Breen, who was quite scathing in his assessment of our intelligence, planning abilities, seamanship, and various other aspects of our characters. We were certain that we would soon become even better acquainted with the joys of “A” punishment, including the agonies of frog-hopping across the parade square. However, after watching us secure the whaler, paint, and brushes, he then marched back to the parade square and directed us to our bunks with the warning not to brag about our experiences. He stressed that failure was not something to celebrate, only to learn from, and if (God forbid) we succeeded in another similar venture we could then proudly talk about our triumph. He went on to emphasize that we should now realize the importance of planning and proper preparation prior to acting on the spur of initiative, and not to expect to be let off so easily in the future. He then gave us that infamous “smarmy” grin of his and with a chuckle disappeared into the night.
The next morning not much was said by our seniors about the evening’s activities; however, our Cadet Captain and Cadet Lieutenant quietly let it be known that we had displayed some welcome initiative and that there might be some vestige of hope that we could eventually be elevated above our present level of “dogmeat”. Indeed, it might even be possible for some of us to reach the exalted status of “Venture Cadet”!