William H.A. Willbond MSM, CD


This is the story of a comedian, Johnny Schram.
He was a Guardsman, a Private and a Rifleman.

John hailed from the back streets, of olde Montreal.
He was dark haired, light skinned and over 6 feet tall.

Besides English and French it was Yiddish John spoke.
A type of Deutche Spreuken, it endeared him to volk.

Rebadged from the Guards to Patricias then QOR OF C.
John served o’er in Deutschland with Doug Brunton and me.

John was a legend at our men’s wet canteen bar scene.
Telling cockroach stories, about the mess hall’s cuisine.

The North Stars dumped recruit teenagers off at Dusseldorf.
The 2 & ½’s from our transport hauled them from the airport.

Dumping kitbags and Barrack Boxes in front of the Mess at Fort McLeod.
The re-enforcement troops were introduced to the presently serving crowd.

They lined up to the right with their mess cups and KFS set.
They passed by John Schram, who slurped soup, as he et.

John kicked the table and ran his hand underneath the cracks.
Grabbing hands full of cockroaches for his soup and bread snack.

He slapped roaches with his spoon as they swam in his soup.
And we all ate black beans for effect, as the new recruits puked.

John was a mimic, he could copy Sp Coy’s CSM, Kenrod, the Rod.
He got his facial tick perfect and he screamed the wrath of God.

Using a toilet plunger as a drill stick John Stood on the table.
John, He screamed at Korean War Vet, Rifleman Ken Cable.

The mess hall went silent and you could hear a pin drop.
Behind Johnny Schramm stood the Rod screaming stop!

Fourteen and twenty-five – John got pack drill and CB.
He slept on the guardroom floor it was as damp as could be.

John loved to drink wine, Vockolda, Snappes, Dortmunder pils.
He drank the Greek’s curtain jugs, along, with anything else.

The re-enforcements tps got even one night, when John got real drunk.
He had passed out stone cold on his barrack room bunk.

They tucked him in, and they carried his bed bunk out of there.
Placing a deep sleeping John dead centre out there on the square.

John didn’t arise when the duty bugler played Reveille.
His snores could be heard down along the Deilinghofen Valley.

‘Twas the OC’s inspection, the Rod marched Sp Coy onto the Square.
And then he discovered John sleeping dead centre out there.

The screaming, hollering and bellowing was the real wrath of God.
John was being marched to the Guardroom by 2 escorts and the Rod.

There was the rattle of mickey bottles, beer cans and snap caps.
As John headed to more pack drill and a guard room floor nap.

I haven’t seen Johnny Schram for the last fifty-three years.
He brought joy to our lives along with laughter and tears.

I don’t know if John’s gone to heaven or maybe even to hell.
But wherever he is I do wish him well.