....It was Christmas Day,
1939, the time of the “Phoney War.” So called
because the battlefronts were quiet, and had been relatively
quiet since the declaration of war in Europe in early
September.
....A small crew of 25
B.C. coastal loggers were spending their Christmas on
a float camp on northern Vancouver Island. They worked
Christmas Day. To the loggers it was the same as any
other day. If they were out in a godforsaken small camp
in a lonely hemlock-lined inlet, they might as well
work as lie on their bunks.
....The camp had been closed
for over nine months that year until mid-October, as
had all the other larger or smaller camps in the vicinity.
The pulp mill that chewed up the logs from the camps
had lost its Japanese contracts for its production in
January ’39 and thus the closure and layoffs of
nearly everyone in this tree dependent area.
....Dave the cook, had
a good turkey dinner ready for the loggers when they
came in from a wet and windy day of logging on that
Christmas Day. But it was a silent and tired crew who
ate their meal in the cookhouse and went back to their
quarters to lie down on their bunks and think of other
Christ-mases.
....Most of the crew were
still paying off debts – to friends or hotels
in the
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city – that had staked them to a bit of credit during
the long nine months shut-down. No unemployment insurance
then – but lots of unemployment. A Great War though,
would solve the unemploy-ment problem – but 45 million
people around the world would die before the guns were finally
quieted!
....A battery radio was giving
out the news and most ears were tuned in. What kind of a war
was this anyway? It seemed only the Finns and Russians were
fighting – and the Finns seemed to be beating their
big aggressor. The radio news told of Christmas carols being
played from the outposts of the impen-etrable Maginot Line
in France. May of 1940 – just a few months away –
would see how impenetrable it would be as the German Panzer
divisions over-ran France, Holland and Belgium.
....Otto Botel, the young woodsplitter
on one of the two steam donkey engines, was going over his
November statement from the company. He had worked twenty-three
and as half days that month at $4.35 per day. He paid board
for the month of $40.50 – that worked out to $1.35 per
day. He paid the Workmen’s Compensation Board a penny
a day for his days worked. And he paid the Jones Tax of one
percent of his total earnings – amounting to $1.02
....But, Otto had been a bit
heavy in the commissary that month. Among
other
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things he had splurged $1.75 on a good pocket Ben watch, and $14.50
on a new pair of Heads caulk boots. All told he had a cheque for
$27.76 for November’s work. Well, it beat doing nothing for
all those past nine months.
....Herb Bayes, the head boomman was
sitting on his bunk full of turkey and mashed potatoes. He was telling
Dave Donahue, the chaser, about the radio report he had heard the
other day. It had said that the government was going to put on more
taxes – on top of the present Jones Tax!
....“They is talkin’ of
chargin’ us another three percent and calling it a National
Defense Tax, Dave!”
....From over in the other corner of
the eight-man bunkhouse a voice that could be heard clear back to
Ottawa answered: “They ain’t gonna get it from me, by
God. I didn’t start this damn war, and anyway nobody’s
fighting, so what the hell do they need my money for?”
....The two men ranted back and forth
about taxes and war on into the quiet of Christmas night. And it
would be quiet, for the little two kilowatt Onan light plant would
be turned off at 10 o’clock and the still of the night would
take over.
....Electric lights were relatively
new in these small remote float camps in ’39,
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