During the Second World War there was an air force training station at Portage la Prairie, Man., and the powers that be were quite conscious of the dangers of sabotage.
As a consequence, there had to be armed guards on duty 24 hours a day.
Mind you, some of the rifles weren’t loaded and some of the guards wouldn’t have known how to fire them even if they had been loaded but the sentinels looked impressive.
One night, according to author Ted Barris in his book Behind the Glory, one of the blue-coated guards saw a suspicious flashing light down at ground level not far away. Someone signalling a saboteur?
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He notified his superior officer, who sent out a crew to investigate.
It turned out to be a farmer walking from his house to his barn and carrying a coal oil lantern.
The flashing effect came when he walked and his legs came between the light and the air force guard.
Lanterns were spooky things. You’d go out at night or in the early morning and it would be pitch black.
The lantern would cast your shadow right out to the perimeter of the darkness and as you moved it moved. Shadows of trees and fenceposts tracked your progress.
Then off out of the darkness two dazzling sparks would appear. It was light reflecting back from an animal’s eyes and you wondered, is that a cat or a skunk or a coyote?
The cat quickly dispels your fears by rubbing its side and tail against your leg.
So you head into the barn, hang up the light and attend to the chores.
I wasn’t sorry when rural electrification ended the day of the smelly lantern.
