Read No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP Online
Authors: Ian Parsons
Tags: #Biography & Autobiography, #Law Enforcement, #BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Law Enforcement
Members of the Mounted Police were frequently expected to work alone, often in situations that should have called for additional personnel. Single-man detachments frequently depended on local citizenry as backup. One evening, long after midnight, I responded to a call from a lonely hamlet located on a secondary road deep in the wilderness. It was a dusty, 40-mile trip. After resolving a family dispute in the community, I wended my lonely way back to town. Encountering a car parked on the road, I stopped to conduct a check. Inside were four young men, well known to the detachment for creating disturbances. As I stood next to the driver, I could smell alcohol in the vehicle. I opened the rear door and spied an open case of beer. As I reached in to seize it, one of the occupants stepped on my hand. The four jumped out of the car, swearing and cursing, and I suddenly found myself in a dangerous and vulnerable position. Interestingly, the option of drawing my weapon did not occur to me, even though I was running through options for self-preservation. The four men had surrounded me and I was expecting the worst when another car drove up. The driver was Peter Pambrun, the older brother of one of the offenders and a frequent client of the RCMP. Peter stood in front of me and faced my challengers. When his brother challenged him, he delivered a strong right cross to the chin, knocking his sibling off his feet. The other three immediately backed away. Peter told them that it did not appear to be a fair fight. He said that he had always been treated right by the Mounted Police and would not stand by and let one member be outnumbered. I seized the liquor, charged all four with its illegal possession and carried on. Word of Pambrun’s assistance was relayed to the corporal, who in turn thanked my saviour.
EARLY IN MY
service, I was involved in an incident that starkly illustrated the importance of following the lofty phrase in our oath of office: “Without Fear, Favour, or Affection.” In the wilderness south of Willmore, Oscar Swedberg had founded a prosperous logging operation. He employed a large number of men and ran his company like the Ponderosa Ranch on the television show
Bonanza
. Many seasonal employees and their families lived in company cabins on the property. Oscar was a benevolent employer and ensured his hands received ample benefits and pay, but he was fervently anti-union and fought efforts on the part of outside labour unions to organize his workers. Oscar strongly supported law and order and cooperated with the detachment whenever required. Our personnel would frequently enjoy meals in the camp mess hall when on patrol in the area.
In 1964 there was considerable labour union activity in the forest industry in northern Alberta. Two representatives from a large labour union visited the logging operation. We began to receive complaints about the men verbally and physically harassing workers in attempts to unionize them. One complaint indicated the two strong-arms had entered one of the cabins and assaulted an occupant. Constable McCoy and I were dispatched to intercept the aggressive pair. We encountered them on the logging company’s property, informed them they were trespassing and confronted them about the assault. Their response was anything but neighbourly; they called us a couple of hick queen’s cowboys and told us to get lost and leave them to their union business. I opened the passenger door, pulled the occupant out, threw him to the ground and arrested him for assault and trespassing. During the heat of battle I may have uttered a derogatory comment. The driver came peacefully, and we escorted them to the detachment where they were released on bail.
I soon learned how quickly brown stuff flows downhill. Apparently our confrontation had been reported to national union headquarters. In turn, a complaint was registered in Ottawa with the commissioner, alleging the union reps had been called “Goddamn Commies.” The complaint flowed from the commissioner to the commanding officer to the officer commanding the subdivision. Our section NCO, Staff Sergeant Nance, was dispatched immediately to our detachment to investigate and obtain statements. When he heard Nance was on his way, Corporal Russell counselled me, noting that members would never call anyone a communist. Realizing I may have done exactly that, I was somewhat confused by my corporal’s direction. He reiterated, “You did not make that statement!” I concluded that he must know more than I did. When Nance arrived, I obeyed the corporal and denied any knowledge of such a statement. The staff sergeant accepted my denial with some suspicion and departed. The matter was not pursued, but after the fact, Corporal Russell and I had a lengthy discussion about the hazards of emotional outbursts when making arrests.
The topography for hundreds of miles south of Willmore is mountain wilderness, with fast-running creeks flowing down steep ridges into secluded, heavily wooded valleys. Even if one follows the game trails that criss-cross the terrain, walking in this vast area can be very challenging. Early in the 20th century, several coal-mining communities flourished in the area. When the mines were exhausted, people relocated, abandoning these towns. Several of them became true ghost towns, inhabited only by a few ancient, rugged individuals who refused to leave. In the ’30s, the settlements were in their heyday, complete with lively social activity. During one rowdy Saturday evening dance in one of these communities, a disagreement broke out between two men over a woman. One of the men broke into a house and fired a handgun several times, seriously wounding three people. The culprit ran off into the wilderness. Police were called and a search conducted. They knew the identity of the gunman but couldn’t locate him. Although he was a local resident, he was never seen again. An investigation was pursued for several years, but the file remained open and inactive.
In 1962, while making his way through the rough terrain surrounding the old town, a hunter noticed what he thought was an unusual mushroom sitting at the base of a large Douglas fir. When he got closer and picked it up he realized it was a human skull. Holding the skull in front of him, he ran several hundred yards through the bush to his hunting partner. Totally out of breath and on the brink of collapse, he tried to explain what had happened. The hunter apparently had a heart condition, so his partner was more concerned with his friend’s medical situation than the skull. They emerged from the bush and called the RCMP for assistance. Constable McCoy and I immediately patrolled to the scene. Once we had tended to the hunter, we retraced his steps to find the skull. Amazingly, he was able to take us directly to the site. The first thing that gave us some concern was the obvious bullet hole in the skull. When we examined the area around the fir tree, we found a watch, along with a .32 calibre automatic pistol. The scene was mapped and photographed, and the two items were sent to Identification section for further tests. The revolver was too badly corroded to retrieve any serial numbers, but the watch was traced to the same individual who had been suspected of shooting the three victims 30 years before. We surmised that he had run off into the woods, stopped at this location and committed suicide. I felt considerable satisfaction at successfully concluding a file that had remained open for three decades. It also revealed to me how long the Force persevered in cases of violence.
BEFORE EMERGENCY RESPONSE TEAMS
It was the very early spring of 1964. Andy, an elderly trapper who resided alone in a small cabin in the tiny settlement of Entrance, Alberta, had not been seen by his neighbours for some time. Andy’s concerned landlord went to the cabin and knocked. The response was a shot through the door with what appeared to be a .22 calibre bullet. Hinton RCMP were called and responded immediately. They approached the cabin cautiously from the rear, stood to one side of the door, knocked and identified themselves. Another shot rang out, and a bullet came through the door. The RCMP made additional calls to the cabin’s occupant, who responded by firing more shots. The two RCMP members retreated and considered their options.
The RCMP subdivision HQ was telephoned and informed of the incident. Reinforcements from Edson, a nearby detachment, were dispatched, along with Staff Sergeant Gordon Blye, the west section senior NCO. The personnel cordoned off the scene to ensure the neighbours’ safety and waited for help to arrive. The two additional RCMP members and the senior staff sergeant arrived later in the day. Emergency response gear was not readily available, but Blye had acquired a US Army helmet and bulletproof vest. Several times, the occupant of the cabin was hailed and responded by firing his gun. During this exchange, the weapon being used suddenly escalated to a larger calibre rifle, which was much louder and did considerably more damage to the sides of the cabin. Obviously the situation had just become more dangerous.
Staff Sergeant Blye had also brought with him a tear-gas gun and projectiles. Tear gas was unfamiliar to the members involved and indeed rarely used by police personnel, particularly in rural settings. Since it was impossible to approach the cabin, HQ was contacted for authorization to use tear gas; however, this authorization was denied because of the age of the occupant and the danger of fire. Smoke could be seen rising from the chimney of the dwelling. The “task force” decided that if the smoke could be blocked off, the resident might be forced to exit. The small contingent of police officers crawled through the dense bush around the cabin to get closer to the building. A decision had been made to lift a pail with a long pole in an attempt to drop it over the chimney. As Staff Sergeant Blye was suitably attired in combat gear, he volunteered to block the smoke hole.
The RCMP members were dressed in heavy storm coats and wore their holstered sidearms underneath. They had removed their revolvers from their holsters and placed them in the large pockets of the storm coats for easier accessibility. As they took up a position close to the cabin, the staff sergeant was intent on setting up his attack on the chimney. One of the members approached the boss with a problem. As he was struggling through the bush, his revolver had slipped out of his pocket and became lost. Staff Sergeant Blye took a deep breath, rolled his eyes and instructed the member to retrace his steps in the hope of locating the missing gun.
Newly focused on the problem at hand, Blye slithered along on his belly to get as close to the chimney as possible. The rest of the contingent watched with bated breath as the staff sergeant was now completely out in the open and vulnerable to the firepower from the cabin. Slowly the pail on the end of the pole was inched toward its target. Just as it was about to be slipped down over the chimney, the pail dropped on the roof and bounced several times to the ground, making quite a racket. Almost simultaneously, a shot rang out from the cabin and a bullet roared through the cabin wall, splintering timber. Blye lay quietly flat on the ground. Much to the disbelief of his troops, he tried once again to place the pail over the chimney. This time he was successful. Andy, the elderly occupant, came to the door several times to “air out” the premises, but no amount of persuasion could entice him to exit the cabin.
Darkness was now approaching, and the incident was at a stalemate. The vehicles’ headlights were used to light the scene throughout the night. A long, cold vigil in sub-zero temperatures greeted the five frustrated police officers as they guarded the scene. Finally, dawn arrived along with several media personnel from the nearest city, hot on the story of the “Mad Trapper” under siege in the wilds of Alberta. The RCMP members gathered around to determine their next step. Suddenly, the door to the cabin opened and out sauntered the elderly man, headed for the woodpile. Two RCMP officers sprinted toward him. When they confronted him, Andy looked up at the two exhausted policemen and stated, “Am I ever glad to see you guys, somebody has been prowling around my cabin trying to break in!” The policemen looked at each other in amazement.
Two rifles—a .22 calibre and a .300 Savage bolt action—were found inside the cabin, along with ample ammunition. Andy had been lying on his bed with the rifles, firing randomly at any noise he heard. He was declared mentally unfit and spent the rest of his days in a rest home. The daily city newspaper published a photo of the scene with Andy being taken into custody. Some days later, the detachments involved received memos of reprimand from subdivision HQ. Apparently the investigating officers appeared in the news photo without appropriate uniform headgear. No compliments were forthcoming for a job well done. And the lost revolver? It was found in the snow and safely returned to its rightful owner.
LAW ENFORCEMENT IN
Canada has changed dramatically within a single generation. In 1962, the members of the police community of Willmore gathered one sunny July morning at a restaurant next to the bank on Main Street. Five policemen, including three RCMP members, fully dressed in the uniform of the day, but unarmed, sipped coffee and chatted in the vinyl booths that morning. The two municipal members present were also in uniform, also unarmed. Sidearms were rarely worn during the day, and none were evident. It did not occur to any of them that they would be quite helpless in the event of an armed robbery at the bank next door. If those same police officers were meeting in that same restaurant in 2013, all would be armed with nine millimetre automatic pistols and wearing bulletproof vests. Tasers and tear gas would be readily available on their utility belts, and they would carry personal hand-held police radios. Shotguns and rifles would be immediately accessible in their police cars.
The RCMP resisted tactical uniform changes for some years, but as the number of murdered policemen across Canada increased, so did the demands for more effective protection. There was a period of time during the transition when the RCMP actually forbade members from wearing bulletproof vests that they had purchased on their own. As early as 1975, I was part of a study group at headquarters in Ottawa examining the possibility of adopting an automatic pistol over the standard .38 Special revolver. The resistance to change at that point was insurmountable, as too many senior officers refused to permit the Force to “go the way of American law enforcement.” It took many years for RCMP management to finally realize that the protection of members and a change to more effective armament was imperative.