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The Connaught Building, Ottawa

October 19, 1944

“How are you Chubby?” James Layton Ralston, the minister of defence, inquired in a low, growly voice as the maître d’ showed the minister of air defence, Charles Gavan Power, to his seat.

“Better than you, it seems!” Power replied, his blue eyes twinkling. “You sound terrible.”

“I’ve got a bad cold,” Ralston sniffled, taking out his handkerchief and applying it to his hawkish nose. Even his dark eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses seemed to be running.

Power clucked sympathetically. “Catch that overseas?”

Ralston shrugged.

Chubby ordered a drink. Ralston noted the choice. Powers notorious reputation for alcoholic consumption was strongly disapproved of by the prime minister.

“How was Europe?” Power asked in an upbeat tone. He knew the answer would be less jolly. Ralston had gone to England, Italy, and France to assess for himself the conditions of the Canadian Expeditionary Force. He had returned only yesterday and immediately called Power to request a lunch meeting. The minister of defence sounded so worried and depressed that Power agreed to cancel a previous engagement.

“Bad, things were bad,” came the reply. “What I saw was terrible.”

As Power quaffed his drink, Ralston shared the bleak picture painted by General Stuart, chief of the general staff. “The casualties are much higher than anticipated. There are just not enough reinforcements, and unless they can be found elsewhere, steps must be taken to impose conscription for overseas,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve already told the prime minister what Stuart concluded.”

“I presume,” Power anticipated, “he expressed the view that at this time he would not support any move toward conscription.”

The minister of defence gave a disgusted shudder. “What is the man waiting for? He’s got his plebiscite, the people think they voted for conscription. But what does it mean to King? ‘Conscription if necessary, not necessarily conscription’ – that’s the new motto King’s adopted. Plebiscite – schmebiscite – that’s what I think! The Canadian people want action. Well,” Ralston added disapprovingly, “except those in Quebec.”

A Quebec MP, Power shot Ralston a look, but did not speak except to place another drink order with the waiter. The 1940 National Resource Mobilization Act had created a body of men, the NRMA, sometimes called the Zombies, who were conscripted to serve in Canada. The national plebiscite was not about immediately changing their status. It was about freeing the King government from its promise only. However, the people of Quebec had voted very strongly against even this measure.

Ralston considered his soup uncomfortably. Then, passionately, he began a new verbal volley, “Chubby, conditions are simply unsupportable overseas. Men who have been wounded two or even three times are being sent back onto the battlefield! They are desperate for replacements, and voluntary recruitment just isn’t working. What does King propose? Still nothing. I propose that we send 15,000 NRMA troops overseas as early as December.”

Now Power took an extra long minute cooling his soup before he spoke. A lieutenant in the First World War, Power had been wounded in September 1916 and returned home, unfit for service. On the wall of his office there was a photo of six young men, including himself, in uniform. Of the six he was the only one to have returned. He summed up his experiences when he told his followers in Quebec: “I went overseas in one war. I returned. I’ll never go back, and I’ll never send anybody else.”

That promise had become very important in the 1939 provincial election in Quebec. Premier Maurice Duplessis called a provincial election to vote on federal issues of conscription and war participation. Duplessis would have tightened his reign on la belle province had not the federal Liberals come to the aid of their provincial confreres. Each federal minister – Lapointe, Cardin, Power himself – had promised to resign if conscription was enacted. They convinced the people to support a Liberal government, the only one that held their interests at heart.

Lapointe was dead, and P.J.A. Cardin had already resigned. It was up to Power to keep his word.

“Ralston, you know where I stand,” he said with solemn integrity. “And now, tell me,” Power requested, changing the subject, “did they have any good wine in France?”

Hôtel-Dieu Hospital, Quebec City

November 12, 1944

“How was the operation? How are you feeling?” Louis St. Laurent, the minister of justice and attorney general, inquired in a concerned voice, as he took a seat beside Powers bed.

“I feel much better with my appendix out than in!” Power chuckled. “Ow!” he winced. “It only hurts when I laugh.”

“Be still then, and I’ll tell you what’s happening.”

Power nodded his agreement. St. Laurent had been invited into the King government, in part on Powers recommendation. After Lapointe’s death King knew how much he needed topnotch representation in Quebec. The quiet lawyer seemed to fit the bill.

Shortly after his arrival on Parliament Hill, St. Laurent had been forced to give his opinion on conscription. He answered that he had entered cabinet at the request of Mr. King, and would do his duty in whatever King felt necessary during the war. Power felt this was probably the most honest statement by any Québécois in the House. It also left St. Laurent less boxed in than the other parliamentarians from the province.

The patient listened eagerly as the soft-spoken St. Laurent caught him up on the flurry of events that had blown a storm through Ottawa since Power’s departure on October 27. St. Laurent described how the shrill cacophony of the pro- and anti-conscriptionists was met by stony silence from the man at the helm of the country. King was sure the war overseas would be over soon. Enacting conscription would unleash the dogs of civil war at home. King still hoped a compromise could be made. When Ralston seemed unable to accept this, King made a move that surprised many.

“On November first, the prime minister ‘accepted’ Ralston’s letter of resignation as minister of defence,” St. Laurent informed his colleague.

“Accepted? The letter Ralston tendered two years ago?”

St. Laurent nodded. “Yes, the one from the conscription crisis in 1942. Ralston never withdrew it. King said it was a ‘trying thing’ to go on in this period with this resignation ‘simply held.’ He decided to accept it now that Ralston did not seem to agree with the position on conscription. Ralston was surprised of course, but he shook hands all round and left the meeting quietly. We were surprised too, but no one else went out the door.” St. Laurent looked down at his hands. “We soon enough got back to work, that was all. Ralston wrote a letter of confirmation later on yesterday afternoon. McNaughton will take over.”

Power sipped his water, so deeply that his moustache got wet and his rather large nose was almost dipped too. “I’d heard a rumour that McNaughton might replace Ralston if he persisted in his attitude.”

“Calamitous,” St. Laurent muttered. “Conscription would be calamitous.”

“And now?” Power asked.

“Now you need your rest. You need your strength,” St. Laurent suggested wisely, “so that you can come back to Ottawa as soon as possible.”

Parliament Buildings, Ottawa

November 23, 1944

In what seemed an astonishing flip somersault backwards, King announced that the search for volunteers had not produced enough soldiers, and that indeed, conscription was now necessary! The day before, Ralston’s replacement, McNaughton, had admitted that despite the appeals he and King had made, he had not been able to find the 10,000 volunteers needed and had recommended that 16,000 NRMA be sent overseas almost at once. McNaughton also told King privately that the military chiefs of staff were prepared to resign if the measure was not enacted. King now wanted conscription. He wanted to announce the new plans to his closest supporters, his party, and then the cabinet, before telling the House of Commons and the Canadian people.

King called St. Laurent and then Power to Laurier House for a “quiet talk.” He seemed to beg Power to stay with the government. Power agreed King’s action was the right step to take, considering the threat of a Palace Revolution, but he could not change his position. Later, Power sent King a note.

He read the same note (which King claimed not to have received) aloud at the caucus meeting.

My dear Mr. King,

Lest there be any question in caucus as to my stand on the new developments and the changed orientation of government policy, I wish to repeat what I have already said to you, namely, that I am not in sympathy with the policy now proposed and I cannot accept any responsibilities for it.

“As I have previously announced to you personally,” he addressed the prime minister, “and to my colleagues, I cannot support the present government in this course.”

Caucus was adjourned. Power and King went up alone in the elevator toward the cabinet meeting. “I am sorry that I did not receive your note,” King said. Under Kings regret, Power thought he perhaps sensed a bit of coldness.

At the cabinet meeting, Power got up, shook the prime minister’s hand, and said, “I wish you good luck.” Having handed in his resignation, the now former minister of national defence for air and associate minister of national defence took his seat. When the meeting was over, Power left the Parliament Buildings.

King went on to the House of Commons and entered the chamber without his longtime colleague. All these burdens! He knew that the spirits tried to ease his cares, by sending him signs or messages through dreams and at the little table. Laurier warned King to take care of his health, saying that conscription had been what killed me in the end. They assured him that he was making the right course, with conscription, with Power. The month before, the spirits had told him that Chubby Power is beyond recall, he is a drunkard, but controls himself for a while, he will last for a time but not for long. Power, perhaps, but how, he wondered, would the others react to his announcement? The spirits had promised cabinet support. But would there be more abandonments?

Before making his surprise speech that introduced conscription, King did a novel thing. He stood, turned his back to the Opposition, and directed his address to the members of his own party.

With apparent calmness King spoke: “I desire to read to the House an order-in-council which sets forth the policy of the government with respect to the extension of service of NRMA personnel, which order is P.C. 8891, and has been approved by His Excellency the Governor General today.”

The order he read extended the National Resources Mobilization and the War Measures Act to give the minister of national defence the authority to send NRMA personnel to “the United Kingdom and/or European and/or Mediterranean operational theatres.” King had finally put the legislation in place to send as many as 16,000 Zombies overseas.

Patteson Residence, Elgin St., Ottawa

December 2, 1944

Sir Wilfrid: The victory has been complete. You have outflanked your enemies at every turn.

King: Have I done the right thing?

Sir Wilfrid: Absolutely. It was the only thing to do. God directed your course. God guided your steps from day to day. God will guide you to the end.

Gladstone: Laurier is right. God is your strength and guide.

Father: Your Mother and Grandfather Mackenzie and my father are all here together. We are proud of you. You have saved Canada from civil war.

Sir Wilfrid: King, you have done for Canada, the greatest service of any man in her history. You have beaten the forces of corruption and high finance. You have dumbfounded your brutal opponents. You have made your place in history for all time. Let your mother speak.

Mother: Dear Joan, don’t you think Billy has done well?

Mackenzie: William I am proud of you.

Joan: I thought he was here.

Mackenzie: I am right here beside you, Mistress Patteson. Long ago I led a rebellion. William has prevented one. He has saved many lives and much bloodshed.

Lapointe: I have been there to guide and direct your actions. You have done the right thing. Quebec has faith in you.

Skelton: You have saved civil war. You have ensured the troops being reinforced. You have saved the break up of the government and of the country. You have saved anarchy in Canada.

San Francisco, United States

May 7, 1945

“The War in Europe is Ended! Surrender is Unconditional!” triumphed the headlines of the New York Times.

Reading the news gave King a thrill, although he’d known for some time before it was printed. Nichol, his personal valet, had come into his hotel room at seven o’clock to waken King. “I have an important message, sir,” Nichol said joyously. “The war in Europe is over.”

“Thank God,” King breathed. He turned on his side and uttered a prayer of thanksgiving and of rededication to his fellow human beings. Now life could get back to normal. A federal election was scheduled to be held at the end of next month, and readjusting the world to life after years of war had already begun. King was in San Francisco to work on the draft charter of the United Nations. As a senior world statesman he was needed to guide Canada and the world in their next steps.

Approximately 13,000 conscripted men had gone overseas. They accounted for sixty-nine out of the 42,000 Canadian deaths.

The price of peace had been great.