William Van Horne feared few challenges and fewer men. More than anyone, he was responsible for the successful completion of the trans-continental Canadian Pacific Railway which helped to bind Canada into one country. It was not easy. Because of the exorbitant cost, Ottawa was under great pressure to abandon the project. Support came in an unlikely guise. Métis leader Louis Riel was threatening rebellion at the Red River, in present-day Northwest. Somehow, the Canadian Government needed to dispatch troops swiftly to quash the uprising. Van Horne saw his opportunity: he promised to deliver the troops in eleven days, knowing if he succeeded, he would gain support for having funds allocated to completed the railway. With no viable alternative, the government consented. There was only one problem—four gaps totalling 137 kms (86 miles) in the rail line north of Superior.

When the soldiers arrived at the CPR construction camp in the wilds near Dog Lake, they gasped in surprise. Spread before them were long tables straining under the weight of salmon, lobster, beef, vegetables and fruit of every description, along with fresh bread, deep pies, rich cakes and steaming pots of tea and coffee. Such a feast would be remarkable in the dining halls of Ottawa, Montreal or Toronto, but here, north of Lake Superior? "Maybe we should be building a railroad instead of fighting rebels," one soldier quipped, carving his way through a slice of roast beef as thick as his thumb. It was to be the last good meal these men from Canada’s eastern provinces would enjoy before entering on the most torturous adventure of their lives.

It was 1885 and the soldiers were on their way to face Riel’s militia at Fort Qu’Appelle. Left behind them were wives and sweethearts and good luck cheers from the several small towns that had marked their passage with brass bands and bunting. Unknown to them, ahead lay massive gaps in the vaunted CPR which would have to be crossed in open sleds or on foot in temperatures 35 below.

The day following the banquet, the soldiers traversed the Dog Lake Gap. It was no picnic crossing unbridged ravines and uneven terrain. They stumbled over stumps, fallen trees, massive granite boulders and through snow drifts as deep as a man was tall. There was only food once the exhausted troops finally arrived at Magpie Camp. But instead of lobster and roast beef, they were fed a railway construction worker’s diet: salt pork, molasses, dry bread and tea. "At least the worst is over," one soldier commented. He was wrong. In some ways, the worst was yet to come. At their next stop, "Desolation Camp," one regiment had to wait 17 hours for a train, in minus thirty-five degree temperatures. Sleeping was out of the question, as they might have frozen to death.

Where the rails (some laid directly on hard-packed snow) had been completed, the troops crammed into open flat-cars, bundled in greatcoats against the biting winds. At each break in the line, they had to disembark and manoeuvre themselves, their weapons, packs, horses and artillery, as best they could. They rode in sleighs over some open passages, and over others they trudged. Men literally marched in their sleep, waking only when they fell into drifts or through thin ice. Just when they thought they had endured the worst, they found themselves faced with a twenty-mile stretch between Port Munroe and McKellar Harbour across the glare ice of Lake Superior. Suffering terribly from frostbite caused by the piercing winds, their skin was blistered from the glaring sun. Those who travelled at night were caught in a wild blizzard, and it was all the officers could do to keep the men from drifting away to their deaths.

Although the final gap between Nipigon and Red Rock was only ten miles, pelting rain turned the ice into six inches of thick slush. For the entire journey, the troops had to wade arm in arm to keep one another standing. At Red Rock, they boarded enclosed railcars for the last leg to Winnipeg. Some fell on the floor and slept, unable to even pull themselves up on the seats. Nothing at Fort Qu’Appelle would be as brutal or unforgiving as the trials along Superior’s North Shore. However, their horrendous experience did prove the strategic value of a trans-continental railroad and hurried the completion of John A. Macdonald’s "National Dream." (For building the railway see Noslo p. 176)