Called to duty during the Second World War, Alex Polischuk boarded a train at Biggar on a cold January day, bound for places and events unknown.
Other boys from the Cando area had already gone, including his older brother Peter.
Alex was one of thousands of Canadians called up to service after 1940, ostensibly to serve as home defence. It was 1943 when he headed out; he had been given an extra six months to report in order to help on the family farm until another brother, Lorne, could return home from Saskatoon, where he had been in hospital for two years recuperating from a farm injury.
As young men like Alex reported where ordered and wondered what was coming next, the politics of wartime was determining their future.
The National Resources Mobilization Act, passed by Parliament on June 21, 1940, had seen Alex report to Regina, from where he was sent to Nanaimo, B.C. for three months basic training in the infantry as a guard.
The Act, which had originally allowed for conscripts to be used for home defence only and not to be deployed overseas, also saw Alex stationed for three months in the Queen Charlotte Islands, one of several sites thought to be potential targets of the Japanese military. He was called up for duty there when he had completed only one day of advanced training.
Both the National Resources Mobilization Act and the vulnerability, or otherwise, of Canada's west coast were the source of friction between the country's politicians, most notably the prime minister and a B.C. Member of Parliament, despite their being members of the same party.
But they were also dividing the country's citizens. The divisive plebiscite of April 1942, which allowed for conscripts to be sent into combat to bolster decimated volunteer troops, became a controversial piece of history, the effect of which is still felt today in relations between English and French speaking Canada.
On a national scale, wartime politics may have been escalating, but to young men like Alex, the most immediate concerns were more personal.
What does a tent full of young Saskatchewan men do with their excess energy when CB (confined to barracks) because some fellow has the mumps?
Apparently, at the camp at Nanaimo where Alex trained, the answer was to hold wrestling matches.
And what do you do when the boredom of training gets to you? When they ask for volunteers, put up your hand, even if you don't know what it's for. Alex was one of six volunteers taken to Vancouver for three weeks of bugle training. As it turned out, he had no love for the bugle and asked to be returned to base.
Of course, anywhere young men gather, there is always the matter of food. It was not so good in Nanaimo, says Alex. Mostly potatoes and lots of roast beef.
But, in wartime, you never know what comes next. Alex was about to embark overseas. The first stop was a base in England. (The food was even worse there. Endless mutton.)
From England, he was sent to the war zone. On guard duty, Alex spent three years on the continent of Europe. He served in the Netherlands, France and Germany, protecting ammunition sites and other targets.
Alex doesn't dwell much on the years spent in Europe. It was a frightening time, with horrors previously unimaginable to a young farm boy from Saskatchewan. The first day out, waiting with a kind of helpless fear for the enemy to approach, it was easy to see why some fellows shot themselves in the foot to get home. But, he soldiered on.
On duty for four hours, then off for four, he managed to avoid having to peel potatoes, the punishment for falling asleep on guard. He also managed to finish out his time in Europe uninjured. He says he was pretty damn lucky. He had some close shaves, but he came through it okay. Lots didn't, he remembers sadly.
Throughout that time, the men on the ground went with their duties according to their orders. While politicians and military leaders conducted, Alex and his fellow infantrymen were the last to know what was planned for them - the true lot of a soldier.
The day came when Alex and his buddies were returned to England. The fighting was over for them, unless they chose to volunteer for the Pacific action. Alex did.
A post-conflict treat he looked forward to while waiting for the trip back to Regina, from where he was to be sent to the Pacific theatre, was the promised week and a half vacation. He and a buddy boarded a train for Scotland, ready for some fun and relaxation.
In a certain Scottish pub, they, as Canadians, found a great welcome. They were so welcome, the drinks flowed generously and soon they were "drunk as skunks!" Nothing that didn't happen to many a soldier on leave.
Unfortunately, their first day of holiday was their last. They bunked in that night with a few English soldiers, very cleverly slipping their wallets beneath their pillows before laying their heads down. Thanks to their generous welcome at the pub, they slept soundly, so soundly that their wallets were empty when they awoke.
The local military presence gave them enough money to take the train back to camp. The holiday was over.
Eventually Alex and his fellow soldiers would make it home. While Alex waited to be shipped out again, the fighting in the Pacific ended. Rather than more guard duty, he found himself with a choice of professions to pursue and a stake from the government's veteran administration to make it possible.
Alex chose farming and returned to the family farm at Cando, but a harvest spoiled by a severe frost sent him looking for work instead. He and a buddy headed west. Alex settled into a railroad job, becoming a section foreman, working in the Kamloops area for nine years. His buddy had chosen mining, but, sadly, didn't survive his first day on the job.
Eventually, the rest of his veteran's stake had to be claimed or forfeited, so Alex took that opportunity to transfer back to the North Battleford area, buying a farm for himself and his wife and family.
Like many vets whose children have never seen war, Alex talked little about his war zone life, preferring to regale his family with stories of a more human, entertaining substance - a short-lived career as a bugle boy or a much-anticipated post-war holiday thwarted by a pickpocket.
Alex now resides at River Heights Lodge in North Battleford. He is 89 years old.
Over the years, dates and place names may have grown dim, but the timeless exploits of youthful vigour will always be his to look back on as an anchor to humanity of an inhuman time. And his family's also.
