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April 2010 issue	In this issue Table of Contents Feature: The Canadian Navy Feature: Haida Gwaii Feature: Wallaceburg, Ontario The Inside Story Editor’s Notebook Reverberations À la carte Reviews Mosaic

The HMCS Toronto departs on a 72-hour training mission. Inside, its crew of 200 operates a bit like a small town, guarding Canada’s 244,000 kilometres of coastline.

Photo: David Barbour

“Wakey-wakey. Wakey-wakey.” 07:00. The boatswain’s mate summons everyone aboard Her Majesty’s Canadian Ship Toronto to breakfast with a shrill three-tone whistle and those four pestering words. Bang forehead on overhead pipes, again, before slithering from a narrow fold-out bunk. Pop a Gravol, and try to dress without stumbling. So begins another day of shooting guns, baking pies and keeping about 5,000 tonnes of steel afloat on the Atlantic Ocean.

HMCS Toronto is one of the Canadian Navy’s 12 multipurpose frigates, all named after Canadian cities. The Toronto spent about 120 days at sea in 2009 and was expected to join a NATO squadron in Europe in March 2010. In all, the Navy has 33 warships — from submarines to mammoth refuelling supply ships — divided between bases in Halifax and Esquimalt, B.C. Once a postscript to Britain’s Royal Navy, the Canadian Navy proved itself a formidable submarine predator and dauntless ally during the Second World War and has grown into one of the world’s most capable and versatile navies. In 2010, it celebrates 100 years at sea.

But it’s not your grandpa’s Navy. Advancements in technology have improved combat and marine systems as well as the capability of the ships themselves. More interesting, however, is the evolution of Navy culture. There are women sailors now, still fewer than 15 percent of the Canadian Forces, mind you, but they include Commander Josée Kurtz of HMCS Halifax, the first female captain of a major Canadian warship. A new professionalism permeates the Navy, says the Toronto’s top officer, Commander Richard Feltham. No more throwing garbage overboard, growing beards or smoking at your desk. The morning rum ration has been replaced by soup, and every spare nook is occupied by a well-used treadmill or stationary bicycle — bolted to the walls and floors — which helps dispel the old cliché of the drunken sailor.

Nonetheless, Navy life is still noisy, cramped, steeped in tradition, sometimes nauseating, vulnerable to fire and flood, numbingly routine, never private, predominantly male and full of Newfoundlanders (many of whom, the joke goes, can be found fishing out back). And the Navy still holds true to cherished naval customs: each ship has its own crew, to ensure that all jobs are filled and that sailors get to know and trust their mates. The “one ship, one crew” idea helps to bind disparate trades and build a necessary camaraderie prior to long deployments overseas. First things first. It’s morning on the Toronto, the nausea is subsiding, and a decision awaits: eggs or pancakes?