We younger kids were very little affected and unaware of the events in Germany leading up to the outbreak of WWII . Maybe my parents knew but they never spoke of it. My dad would come in from the fields for lunch and at 1:00 pm he would stretch out and listen to the news from CFCN Calgary which was introduced by a long siren wail. Then the “ Voice of Doom” , the announcer called Lorne Green who later became well known on TV as the dad in the long running TV show called Bonanza came on and solemnly reported the world situation Our farm was a Mecca for an in group of fall hunters, many of which were in sales and service for farm equipment etc and over the years became dads friends. After the hunt a prolonged happy hour would take place which caused a problem in later years. Among this group was a burley Scotsman who was the chief of police in Medicine Hat. He ended up buying some land near our farm which he leased out. He was a decorated First World War veteran and great fun. In the war years he became Commandant of the Nazi prison camp in Lethbridge and was in full uniform along with many campaign ribbons on his tunic when he visited us. One time when he and dad were hunting I saw his beribboned military tunic hanging on a chair and dared to put it on and admire myself in the mirror .🤣
As I got a bit older dad taught me gun safety and how to shoot. Any break in safety techniques resulted in my being banned from shooting or handling a gun for a while. I tried to match his shooting excellence a daunting aspiration. We had his hand made painted “ No Shooting” signs posted on fence posts around the farm proper to ward off passing hunters from being near the house or spooking the animals. In the car with him one day he stopped in the middle of the road and inspected out the window one of his signs on a fence post back from the opposite side of the road which needed repainting. He alway carried a 22 caliber rifle in the car so he unlimbered it and leaning the gun on the window sill he sighted over open sights ( no scope) and fired three shots at the sign. He then sent me to retrieve the sign and when I touched it , it was loose in my hand. He had punched the three nails out of the wood !!
I graduated around age eleven, to having the use of a 20 gage “pump” gun , a “ladies” gun, for bird hunting and became fairly proficient with it. One of our favourite shoots was along the bigger banked irrigation canals. We would approach quietly hidden by the bank and after spreading out walk in unison up over the bank and if there were any ducks on the water they would flush up in front of us and he shooting would proceed. One trip with dad and the Colonel was memorable. The Colonel and I separated by 50 feet or so crested the bank, a pair of mallards went up, he shot missed, I shot, one bird down, he shot, missed. I shot , two birds down. Prolonged silence then throat clearing and gruff Scottish voice remarked “ good shooting Charles”. Back in the car dad was convulsed with silent laughter staring straight ahead as we drove off.