Remembering the Training

I distinctly remember the day when I was first recruited to the training camp now known as Camp X. I was lying in the shade, in a futile attempt to escape a June heat wave at a camp in Ontario. I was spoken to by the Commanding Officer, who ordered me to report to the Canadian National Exhibition.

Shortly after I arrived, I was joined by several other women. We were all packed into an army Jeep, and then transferred to a civilian car and in less than three hours, we arrived at Camp X. Back then, I had no idea what it was. All we knew was that it was a secret camp. We were directed to a building that had been transformed into a Hungarian reception room. Our training started that very night. All the new recruits were gathered together, to drink good Hungarian wine! Naturally, we did not look upon this as a training exercise but more as a reception before actual training began. Our trainers, however, took it more seriously. They were watching us closely. The purpose of the exercise: to learn to be able to drink as much as was possible and still hold your tongue.

From there, training went on for every day and every night. Daytime instruction dealt with the basic skills, which included the “art” of silent killing, sabotage, Partisan work, recruitment methods for the resistance movement, demolition, map reading, weaponry, and Morse code. As we progressed, nighttime instruction were added. The training was nothing short of intense. Every minute of the day was filled. We were either running or crawling; we never walked anywhere. Exercises were repeated over and over until it was pounded into our heads and muscle memory. Until each reaction was so automatic that it became literally a part of us. We were put through mock missions; imagine having to enter a dark room in an old farmhouse where a bag of gun parts would be found. We were expected to find the parts, assemble the weapons and come out shooting within a certain time frame. We were put through obstacle courses and missions throughout the city. We were expected to accomplish mock missions without being detected by local police or civilians, who were ignorant of our practice session. If we were ever caught, we were expected to talk our way out of it. As long as these exercises were properly executed and no one was injured, there was never any objection from the Camp instructors. There was always someone available from the Camp to serve as “damage control” after the agents had left the scene, and the agents knew that the Camp authorities would always cover their tracks.

We had to “hit” many local targets, including General Motors in Oshawa, the port of Toronto, and especially the Toronto/Montreal rail line.

We had to be able to shoot a target with a revolver or a pistol from a distance of twenty feet. To do this, we were subjected to long hours of practice and training, most of which was carried out in the underground firing range. There was no light. Shooting was done by instinct, by sensing movements, even perhaps utilizing the sense of smell. We had no other option – we must hit the target, we HAD to. I was trained, grilled, almost tortured mentally until I hit that target. That was all there was. It was just part of the training.

Our night maneuvers were horrible. We were often transported to an area and were told to find a certain place and infiltrate to complete the mission. Upon the completion of this, we – starving and exhausted – would be picked up by a Jeep and more often than not, we would not arrive at the camp. A new “situation” would arise and force a change of plans. We would be given new targets, alternate routes and missions to complete.

It took twelve weeks for me to complete my training that summer of 1943. I emerged from the rigorous, extensive training of Camp-X, hardened beyond any other military, physical, mental, or emotional experience that I would endure in life. However, it truly opened my eyes to the contributions of Canadians to the war effort. Here I was being trained to become a member of the allied forces’ elite team of spies, along with trainees from all over the world. This team of spies would be responsible for countless sabotages all around the world to German supply ships, transportation systems, communication systems and military operations. They would obtain crucial German intelligence detailing military strategy, future plans and operations. Collectively, their actions would save millions of allied soldiers’ lives and provide allied forces with precious opportunities to strike back at the enemy. When I discovered this, I truly realized the importance of Canadian contributions to the war effort. I realized that much would have been lost without Canada and I felt a strong sense of pride and accomplishment in that moment. In that moment, I truly experienced what it meant to be Canadian. Were you previously aware of any vital Canadian contributions to the war? If so, how did it feel to know you were a part of it?

K