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Praise for Our Only Shield
“Michael Goodspeed is an excellent storyteller. In Our Only Shield, his protagonist Rory Ferrall continues to joust with his nation’s enemies, this time in Nazi-occupied Holland at the start of the Second World War. His writing embodies excellent character development. He superbly situates his story within an accurate historical context. Reader beware: prepare to be not only highly entertained, but also educated.”
DAVID BASHOW, Editor, Canadian Military Journal
“As a Dutch-born Canadian whose family experienced the German occupation, I could not put down this powerhouse book by Michael Goodspeed. I felt right in the action beside the characters. A wonderful read.”
PETER STOFFER, Member of Parliament for Sackville–Eastern Shore, Nova Scotia
Praise for Michael J. Goodspeed’s
Three to a Loaf: A Novel of the Great War
“A compelling account that is fiction in name only. Goodspeed’s research and personal military experience make this fast-paced story powerful and authentic, as real for World War I as The Red Badge of Courage was for the American Civil War.”
MAJOR-GENERAL (RET.) LEWIS W. MACKENZIE
“An exciting Great War story of soldiering and spying. Goodspeed’s book is almost unique for being well-written and accurate militarily…”
PROF. J.L. GRANATSTEIN, author of Canada’s Army: Waging War and Keeping the Peace
“A great read … didn’t put it down until 1 a.m. … a full-bodied, compelling espionage thriller. Goodspeed has captured the horror of life in the mud and blood-filled trenches of World War I as only an experienced soldier with a great eye can. On top of that, he’s got down pat the cultural differences in the manners, mindsets and methods of the Britons and Germans among whom his Canadian hero finds himself.”
JOE SCHLESINGER, award-winning CBC journalist and foreign correspondent
“Michael Goodspeed’s debut novel that’s set in the First World War will appeal to fans of both historical fiction and the espionage genre.”
PAUL BACHMEIRER, National Post Book Reviews, July 19, 2008
© Michael J. Goodspeed
All rights reserved. Written permission of the publisher or a valid licence from Access Copyright is required to copy, store, transmit, or reproduce any part of this book.
Blue Butterfly Book Publishing Inc.
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PUBLISHING HISTORY
Print edition, soft cover, 2010
ISBN 978-1-926577-05-0
Electronic edition, epub format, 2010
ISBN 978-1-926577-37-1
A CIP record for this title is available from Library and Archives Canada.
Cover and title page design by Fox Meadow Creations
Cover photo © Bigstock Photo / Erik de Graaf
Title page photo © Bigstock Photo / Denise Ellison
Blue Butterfly Books thanks book buyers for their support in the marketplace.
To Simon, Samantha, Andrew, and Pamela:
four people whose enthusiasm and daring
have always been an inspiration
1
Pemmican Lake, Manitoba, October 1939
THE FAIRCHILD FLOATPLANE skipped and bounced twice as it touched down on the northern lake. The engine roar intensified as the plane slowed, and the cloud of mist thrown up around the exposed cylinder heads bloomed into a circular rainbow. To Chief Superintendent Rory Ferrall, sitting in the passenger seat, the instant rainbow looked as if some clever engineer had designed the aircraft to have its own good-luck charm with each landing. With his one good eye, he stared out at the shoreline of granite, jack pine, and birch, wondering if he would ever be lucky enough to see these north woods again. He shifted restlessly in his seat after the long flight. His life had changed dramatically in the last few days. Just a week ago he had been in charge of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in northern Manitoba. Now he was flying out to say his farewells before being posted overseas. This was his last stop on that parting journey.
Exactly a week ago he had received a brief and cryptic telegram from Ottawa advising him politely that “if he should choose to volunteer,” the RCMP would second him to the War Office in London for “unspecified duties.” Rory had a good idea what those duties would entail. He spoke fluent German and had served on clandestine operations within Germany during the Great War. With another war now declared, some desperate soul in an office had dug up his file and they wanted him back.
As the Fairchild neared the dock, a small crowd of handsome, cheering, copper-faced Indian children ran down the hill. In the isolated northern Manitoba village of Pemmican Lake, the unannounced arrival of a floatplane was still such an infrequent occurrence that it created a stir in the community. The children waved and shouted greetings in Woodland Cree; and while the happy mob applauded their village’s latest arrival, a small boy in a red-chequered flannel shirt triumphantly seized the mooring line.
Rory smiled at the children’s enthusiasm. There was something infectious about the way kids up here laughed and roared when a plane came in. There was a sense of genuine zest in their hilarity, and he loved it. But these days, laughter was something he had to work at. Ever since his wife had died four months ago, he found some days a struggle. On the good days, he thought he was getting over his loss. He had told himself that he was a fatalist, that he understood that life was inherently unfair. That kind of thinking got him through the Great War, and he supposed it helped make him a reasonably efficient policeman; but on the dark days, it wasn’t enough. He looked from the children on the dock down to the aircraft’s floor. He still wasn’t certain how he got himself through those dark times.
As boisterous as this meeting with the native children was, it also left him with an uncomfortable twinge. The kids out there were like all the children who remained back in these isolated settlements: happy and energetic. The others, the majority of Indian children, those who had been sent to the residential schools, seemed perpetually dejected and tired, like transplanted flowers wilting in a neglected garden. Rory wrestled with the handle on the plane’s door. It seemed that all the new ideas after the Great War had proven to be catastrophic failures. Communism and fascism were the two colossal disasters. But even up here in the North, the great social engineering project to integrate native children
