Red Tape and Torpedo Nets

 Me and the barge (Gary LeDrew

"Red Tape and Torpedo Nets" by Celia LeDrew nee Shaw Shortly after VE day during World War II, the Canadian Navy disposed of a large amount of torpedo netting into Louisbourg Harbor. This netting, made of hawser steel wire with each link measuring about twenty inches in diameter, was used to create a mesh that would prevent torpedoes from entering past the torpedoes gate. At the time, loaded merchant steamers were waiting at anchor for convoys and orders. My family lived in an old frame house on Commercial Street, right next to the government Wharf. Our lot was 50 feet deep and stretched 180 feet along the harbor. We were proud to have a beautiful sandy beach just below our house where we learned to swim and play in the sand. This beach was everything to us, and our entire lives revolved around it. It was heartbreaking to see the Royal Canadian Navy dumping all this wire mesh onto our beloved beach. I knew that the first strong wind would cause an undercurrent, spreading the mesh all over the shoreline. Not only would our beach be ruined, but the lobster fishing that provided a livelihood for the fishermen would be lost forever. I decided to take action and approached my father with my concerns. He told me that I would be wasting my time because there was a war going on and I couldn't fight the Royal Canadian Navy. But I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, so I set out to speak to the commander in charge of the Navy in Louisbourg. However, he was dismissive and told me that there was a war on and he had no time for such nonsense. Undeterred, I then went to our mayor, who also went to speak to the officer in charge. However, he received the same answer – it was impossible because of the war. I then spoke to the harbour master, and we had a long conversation about the potential impact of the wire on the lobster fishing. He agreed that it would be disastrous, but when he went to the commander, he was met with the same response. A heated argument ensued, but the officer walked away and slammed his door. By this time, it was 1pm, and I had already spoken to over 160 men working on the marine repairs. Next, I went to Mr. L H Cann, the owner of the marine company that serviced the naval ships. He was reluctant to help me, but I persisted and asked him for the phone number of the naval headquarters in Halifax. I went to the harbour master to get the phone number of the Department of Fisheries, and he encouraged me to continue my efforts. I then called the Commander of the navy and explained the situation, using as many "yes, sirs" and "no, sirs" as I could muster. To my surprise, the commander was sympathetic to my concerns and promised to give the matter his immediate attention. I asked for his name and rank, in case I needed to contact him again. At the time, a navy minesweeper was undergoing refitting, and the captain and his wife were staying with us. I couldn't wait to tell them the good news, and they all laughed when I showed them the name of the man I had spoken to in Halifax – Rear-Admiral L.W. Murray. The commander of the minesweeper said that they never got to talk to someone of that rank. At the time, I didn't know the difference between a Sub-Lieutenant and a Rear-Admiral, and no one wanted to believe me. I felt like a fool, but my embarrassment was short-lived. The very next morning, at 8 o'clock, my father called everyone to the window, and we saw a large scow with a derrick lifting the discarded nets onto it. My father's expression was priceless – "I'll be damned, you did it, little girl. You beat the Navy."