Larry Tyce and the Magnolia Tree

One of the many places I visited during my ten years in the Navy was Bermuda. It was my first really foreign port, and I had the privilege of visiting there over a dozen times in my career.

The capital of Bermuda is Hamilton, a small neat and very proper town, with pastel painted houses, stores that were also pastel painted, and only a little bigger than the cottages. Hamilton was also the place that, in several establishments around town, had signs posted stating "no sailors or dogs allowed."

When our ship, the aircraft carrier HMCS Bonaventure, went to Bermuda, we either tied up at the old RN facility at Ireland's Island, or anchored just off Ireland's Island. Duty boats ferried us back at forth at regular intervals to the dock in Hamilton.

One of our favourite watering places in Hamilton was the American Legion, Outpost Number One, as they served decent meals and indecent drinks at prices that were geared to destitute young servicemen. Outside the legion was a beautiful magnolia tree, with branches overhanging a sidewalk that led to Hamilton's finest church, the Cathedral of the Most Holy Trinity.

On the day in question, a bunch of us had taken the noon duty boat and had lunch at the legion, spent the afternoon touring on motorbikes, to return to the legion for supper at six. By eight, we had finished dining and were well into sampling Zombies, Margueritas, Singapore Slings, and Tom Collinses.

Larry Tyce was the junior (called OD in the Navy vernacular) in our group, and was very prone to overdrinking. (Larry will is the subject of another vignette called "Larry Tyce and the NAAFI Roundabout.) Larry was falling asleep at the table, so one of us suggested that he take himself down to the quay to catch the next duty boat back to ship. He left with no argument.
A short while later our libations were disturbed by the sound of outrage from the street. A group of pious members of St. George’s Church had been "taking the air" prior to evening church service. It was a beautiful evening, without a cloud in the sky, when suddenly they walked into a shower.

There was Larry, comfortable in the branches of the magnolia. Rather than coming back inside the Legion when he had to empty his bladder, he merely sat up, unzipped, and let it go.

It took some heavy diplomatic negotiations, involving dry cleaning bills, apologies, and a degree of humility uncommon to the Canadian Navy, to resolve the incident. Suffice it to be said that Larry escaped the clutches of the Military Police, we left the Number One Outpost with lighter wallets, and the Number One Outpost was off-limits to Bonaventure personnel until our next trip to Bermuda waters.