Here's a short story of an experience I had this summer. I almost lost my writing hand!
I wrote a short story for my own pleasure and practice but I thought it would be nice to share with all of you guys. Please leave a thought regarding the incident or the story. Thank you.
I have been conserving the art of calligraphy for long as I can remember. I learned to hold a calligraphy pen before a crayon. I showed great prominence in this art. I was able to reproduce many traditional scripts and create expressive letterforms that were original. This art resided within me and I lived for this art. I felt like the art was something I could devote my life for. Something that my hand can carry to represent.
Then the summer of 2017 arrived at me. This season was promised with a very special 6 weeks of Drill and Ceremonial training at HMCS Quadra. Quadra is a heartwarming destination for Royal Canadian Sea Cadets. Selected cadets are sent to familiarize themselves with a military structure of the Royal Canadian Navy. Cadets would eat, sleep and train on base for a variety of 2 to 6 weeks to qualify for specific trades. The Drill and Ceremonial Instructor trade was a unique course that HMCS Quadra offered. I was one of the 28 privileged individuals to be chosen for the 6-week long training.
One of the highlights for the DCIs were the Symphony Splash, which naval field guns would take part to fire shots in rhythm to Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture.
The challenge of the Symphony Splash was that a naval field gun crew, or simply Gun’s Crew, had to fire a shot and have another one ready to go under 3 seconds. This was no easy job, but it had to be done to keep up with the vigorous tempo of the 1812 overture.
A field gun is not a difficult machinery. It is set on wheels and brass shells are loaded on the back of the gun. A door named “breach” would chamber the shell. Then a cocking pin is cocked, then a striking pin triggered by a lanyard would execute the firing. There are 4 positions for each section of the gun. There’s the cocker-extractor; who cocks the pin and extracts fired rounds, the striker; who strikes a lanyard which triggers the firing pin which then fires the gun, the Breachmate; who opens and closes the breach to allow reloading of shells. And there are 2 additional positions: passer and receiver passes and receives rounds.
And there was the loader, a position which they would fist the shell into the back of the gun and pull the hand out of the barrel before saying “clear!”. This was my position.
Most evenings at Quadra was offered for recreation, or rec as we called it. When rec was given to me, my rec was devoted to writing calligraphy and penmanship. Unfortunately, a casual rec time was very rare to the DCIs, for we had to practice ceremonies and 1812 guns. 1812 practices were much more common than my hours of serene calligraphy hours.
For many recs, we practiced the speed and precision of our firing. I was dutiful to my job as a loader. I loaded the shells and they would respond with a cling. I liked my simple job, although it was very risk-taking. It was much simpler than other positions which required more force and precision. In exchange for simplicity, my hand had to be occasionally millisecond away from being shut in the chamber by the breach after yelling clear. My hand never considered the breach a threat, he was too fast and cheeky. Sometimes I called clear when my hand wasn’t fully out of the breach to compensate for the reaction time that my breachmate takes.
The technique of calling “clear” prematurely was a quite a popular method by many past loaders. This technique is a very narrow tightrope. The loader must exactly calculate the reaction time of the breachmate and the time it requires for the hand to release the shell and leave the chamber. If a loader makes an incorrect calculation and the breach shuts on the hand, a disastrous consequence would follow. First, all the bones of your metacarpals would snap like toothpicks, then its tendons would rupture like stretched gum. Internal bleeding would follow and the ability for all precise motor skills operated with your hand will be lost. Simply put, you lose a hand.
A Petty Officer, a superior, once told me a story of a girl who was bright enough to call clear with the hand fully in the chamber. Back in his year as a DCI, he was at a breachmate position with the girl as his loader. She accidentally called clear too early and he closed the breach with full might. Metal to the hand to the metal. Her hand was splat and her bones were crunched in all 4 spots. She was in need of immediate medical attention and she became an unfunctional cadet. She was sent home and she is not able to perform precise motor skills up to this point.
His story didn’t really scare me. I was too arrogant. I kept calling clear early to compensate for the speed of my Gun’s Crew. Then it happened.
We were called to our loading positions. The first few rounds glided into the barrel in a heavenly sound. The passer passed me rounds, I kept sliding her in the back of the gun. Then, a defective round with a loose primer was passed. I loaded the round and called clear, then my round lost balance and my hand took an extra millisecond to secure it.
Then, the breachmate shut it.
The acceleration of the metal breach jammed my hand. My spine was given a chill. I realized my hand would be lost. All my years of practice spent to conserve the beautiful art was about to be lost. My hand would drop the torch of the light of calligraphy. To lose the ability to beautifully express letters. To lose the art that made me. I would not be able to accept this loss.
I instantly reacted and pulled my hand out of the breach. The breachmate was aware of what happened before it was fully shut. He stabilized the breach and stopped it before my hand splat like meat and my bones were snapped like carrots. My hand didn't suffer any serious injury.
My Gun’s Crew was paused for a moment. My Divisional Officer, a big superior, stepped in to check if I was able to carry on. I signaled yes.
The Gun’s crew and I finished the session in success. At one point, we were the fastest out of the three guns. Immediately after the dismissal, I went to seek first aid for a check-up and possible treatment.
Luckily, there was no serious injury. The doctor explained that it was just a pinch. I was too over-dramatic. He gave me ice and candy and instructed me to drink water.
Later that night I was in shock. I had severe panic attacks. I realized how close I was to losing calligraphy, and calligraphy losing me. I was scared and traumatized. I sat on the staircase of my barracks sobbing few tears.
My teammates, my fellow shipmates of DCI, approached me. They gathered for me to ensure that I was safe. We assured each other of trust and courage. We learned that we are a team and a family. They encouraged me to continue excelling my position and carry on as the loader. I was the one that my team needed in this position, and I was sure as hell that I would not give it up for our Symphony Splash.
The day of the Symphony Splash arrived. We showed the city of Victoria the best 1812 Overture that they’ve seen and that they will see. In the midst of the orchestra, an enchanting realization came to me. We were family. We are the Gunners of Quadra. I would look at my calligraphy and always remind myself of the time I almost lost the art. But as much as my heart was shook, I realized how close and committed we were as a team and learned that we were there for each other. What a year it was to be a Drill and Ceremonial Instructor.
Show Posts
Please add us! Thank you