KECK, E.J. ((Keck Elwood Joseph))
The Gallery
The Nameplates
Pillar Location: Pillar: 07 - VII, Row:31, Column:E
Troop Number and Year: Jan 17, 1956
The Stories
The hills at the south of Kamloops City rise about 1,000 feet to where the Petersen Creek Canyon begins and to reach that height we drove ip the Rose Hilt Road then west across the open grasslands until we could go no further because of deep traversing ravines. We were now also out of touch with no portable radios. It was a brilliant morning with glaring sun and pitch black shadows among the trees in ravine bottoms. We kept close track of our time to determine a safe time limit before we could possibly intercept this unknown gunman.
After about an hour of walking west, we decided it was time to become cautious for we knew there had been no capture as by now a rented Bell 47 helicopter was sweeping back and forth along the hillsides ahead of us. We began to move in a spread triangle, each of us about 150 feet from the other and never more than two of us moving at one time. Extreme caution was needed in crossing the gullies for we simply could not see into the deep shadows under the pine trees and we had a couple of heart-pounding experiences when we flushed grouse from almost under foot. As it neared noon, we were just about in our intended position and we could not only see but hear many members far below us working their way directly up the hills toward us.
At this time we were on reasonably flat ground, trees sparsely spread atop the crest of the hills which were thickly treed below us. It was my turn to anchor our triangle. I stood some 60 feet from, and facing the crest, while Willms walked behind me to pass and Belanger suddenly began backing away from the crest toward me and had his (my) revolver levelled. It was apparent he had seen or heard something suspicious. In that instant, a man appeared at the crest from the knees up (he had stood suddenly) and was shooting at us.
I grew up with guns in the backwoods of Jasper National Park where my father was a warden. Stern boyhood training at my father’s hand told me to immediately shoot and it would startle him off his aim. I fired my rifle where it was aimed at the ground, about midway between us, for I knew I did not have that split second to raise it toward him. His shot was so close with mine that they seemed one and although he was only 60 feet from us he missed is both. Wither my action saved us or he may have been expecting one target and was confronted with two.
The next few moments of action seemed as if in slow motion. The gunman then dove to his right coming to rest behind a two-foot thick pine tree. I dove to my let and found myself behind a rock the size of a large watermelon (and the only rock in the entire area), while Belanger flattened where he was. Belanger seemed exposed but was actually in a shallow dip and could not see the gunman while Willms was about 100 feet behind me. I could see that the gunman was well protected, not only by tree he was lying behind but also his body was down slope from it. He was so close I could clearly hear the action of the rifle as he worked the bolt to reload and it was time to scrunch behind that small rock for his next shot hit it. I now had a safe time to look and shot at the dirt to the side of the tree hoping to perhaps hit his elbow bit it was clear there was too much protection of earth in front of him.
Now it was time to duck for I heard his bolt slam home again. He shot a third time creasing a small tree line with me and a sliver of wood nicked my forehead. My turn again. This time I looked, he had rolled onto his left side to reload and exposed the back of his head past the safety of the tree. I shot and he appeared to dive over backward to my right and out of sight.
I couldn’t believe I could possibly have missed him and we couldn’t afford to lose track of him. I motioned Belanger to guard the right and to Willms to guard the left while I gingerly stood to advance. I could then see him lying prone some 10 feet from where he had been. The impact of the shot had actually lifted him over backward. Our trading of six shots had caused a flurry of activity far below us and soon the helicopter swept by. We waved it in and then learned that three of our members had been slain.
As the subsequent investigation began, the previous history was learned for all. Over the next few years, numerous testy encounters ensued with George Booth’s father and our members, beginning with his insisting on having his son’s bloodied clothing returned to him which he enshrined on the wall of his shack. He then erected a concrete monument where his son died, carrying concrete and water half a mile to build it with a plaque attesting to his son’s murder at the hands of the police. Finally, 11 years later, on July 25, 1973, the father shot at a man on the main street of Kamloops with a revolver, hitting the frame of his eye glasses. He was committed to a mental hospital and died in 1974. His full name was John Wilkes Booth – Shades of Abraham Lincoln’s assassin.
Regimental Number: #19233
Troop Number and Year: Jan 17, 1956