In 1973 after graduating from Dalhousie law school (and before commencing Articles in September with Messrs. Macdonald, Affleck Barrs. &c), I had a summer job with the Judge Advocate General (Brigadier-General James M. Simpson, CD QC) who was an acquaintance of my father (Group Captain C. G. William Chapman DSO). I mention the paternal connection because it was transparent that of the five summer students in the office each of us was related to or acquainted with someone there. It was, now that I reflect upon it, the same manner of nepotism by which I secured Articles. On that occasion it was my mother who knew someone (a lady friend of one of the firm’s lawyers). Contacts, as offensive as they may at times appear, are except in rare instances the manner in which a great number of jobs are secured.  It was also the manner in which I ended practicing law in Almonte (through Senator George J. McIlraith PC QC who, in addition to having been Counsel to Messrs, Macdonald, Affleck Barrs. &c was father-in-law of Michael J. Galligan QC of Messrs. Galligan & Sheffield, Barrs. &c by whom I was first employed). That latter introduction not unnaturally led to my acquaintance with Raymond A. Jamieson QC whose office I ultimately replaced with my own.

The history of the Judge Advocate General (JAG) and the Canadian Armed Forces (CAF) Legal Branch, in many ways, traces Canada’s history over the past 100 years. In the early twentieth century, Canada was growing rapidly and seeking to assert itself as an independent nation. In military matters, the participation of so many Canadian volunteers in the Second Boer War had demonstrated that the young dominion was capable of fielding an effective fighting force. This achievement responded to a growing desire among Canadians for more control over their own armed forces. As part of this trend, the government of Wilfrid Laurier determined that Canada needed to rely on its own distinct source of military legal advice. On 1 October 1911, therefore, Colonel (Col) Henry Smith was appointed as Canada’s first JAG.

While the legal cases involving breach of duty or violent criminal conduct or AWOL behaviour we’re unequivocally scintillating for the gusty student mind, the other detail I readily recall from that time long ago was the Librarian, a septuagenarian of rugged military disposition named Miss Something-or-Other. Unlike most of the other permanent staff she hadn’t a rank. Her singularity was not (as you might have anticipated) her reserved scribe’s disposition; instead it was her custom of going for a Sunday drive with her life partner (whom I never met). It was I learned a ritual affair, one devoted especially to the rural and predominantly tranquil countryside (as of course was ours today). Because the sun sets so rapidly as we approach the Winter Solstice we judiciously abbreviated our outing.  We did however purposively pursue roadways with which we were unfamiliar as a credit to our undying adventuresome spirit. Passing along the vast openness of a country road adjacent a muted winter field is forever a pleasure to me. I adore the bluish white colour of the snow as it yields to the prevailing wind and solar influence.  The sky too was a remarkable powder blue characteristic of artist Frederick Simpson Coburn RCA DCL.

In the winter of 1914, Coburn erected a studio suitable for his artistic needs in Upper Melbourne, Quebec, across the road from his father’s general store and set well back in the trees. It was here that Coburn began “working on half a dozen winter things, all Canadian – logging and life in the woods.” In his endeavour to find a central theme, Coburn started with illustrating the Quebec winter countryside with “its acres of snow, vivid blue skies, shifting clouds, birches and fir trees.”

However pleasant the Sunday drive may have been, the replenishing reward was as always the return home. Once having removed my shoes and settled myself I thankfully and gleefully perched at my desk. Seated there I was trimmed with all the usual ornaments (that is, 7-year old cheddar, sliced green apple and espresso). At once I regarded the magnificent late afternoon sunshine angling upon the now frozen mantle of the river which was here and there cluttered with what appeared to be a variety of small and large windswept notches and streaks of white snow over the ice-covered greyish blue water. The shoreline trees on the opposite side of the river were a darkened rust colour.  The foreground of the spectacle was an unobstructed field of undulated white talc.