When I was in my late twenties, I met a man called Lloyd Lovo. Lloyd was the Director of Operations for the Alberta Liquor Control Board, and I was part of the organization’s junior management team. Once in awhile we were able to coax a story from “Major Lovo” during our coffees breaks. We would listen in fascination, for Lloyd was a great raconteur. The following story is the one I remember best. It demonstrates the ingenuity of the Canadian soldier, and his ability to make the best of very trying circumstances. The twist as the end was sort of neat, too.
Do you ever think about those rare times during life when you were darn near killed, or at the very best, could have been severely injured? Do you wonder how you got off Scot free, while others, in similar situations, were not so lucky? Or was it luck, good or bad? Maybe it was simply the odds. Or, perhaps maybe someone, somewhere, was looking after you? Odds are simple calculations. For example, take 100 people placed in harm’s way time and again with a 50/50 a casualty rate, Odds are only one would be unharmed after six brushes with death or injury. On the other hand...there are those rare events that defy all odds. That’s when you walk away, with a vague sense of the supernatural. At 75 years old, I look back on my life and readily recall six narrow escapes, but there was also a seventh....
In the late nineteen fifties and sixties, hunting was a common past time. A large part of Western Canada’s male population went hunting: upland game, water fowl, varmints...and at the top of the food chain: big game! For some, the hunt was a matter of pride. For others, it was simply a matter of repeated humiliation. Read on, but first guess into which category the author’s hunting skills led him...and he eventually, to his shame, solved the problem.