Canadian military fascists
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Joint Task Force 2: The neighbours from hell
Ron Mayhew is waging a private war with the Defence Department, which he
says wants to take his land. David Pugliese reports.
David Pugliese
The Ottawa Citizen
Saturday, July 13, 2002
The Ottawa Citizen
Ron Mayhew has property next door to the secretive JTF2 base on Dwyer Hill
Road. He claims the military is harassing him in hopes that he will sell the
property to them at a good price.
Ron Mayhew surveys his 36 hectares of prime farmland in the Ottawa Valley
and sighs when he talks about his neighbours from hell.
Over the past several years the neighbours have harassed Mr. Mayhew and his
workers and have contaminated parts of his land with fuel oil. They went on
to his property with a front-end loader, tearing 300-metre- and
250-metre-long trenches into his pasture, causing up to $200,000 in damage.
"They can do anything they want out here and no one's going to stop them,"
says the 56-year-old farmer.
That's because Mr. Mayhew's neighbours are Joint Task Force 2, the Canadian
Forces' top-secret commando unit.
Mr. Mayhew owns the farmland beside what is supposed to be the most
classified installation in Canada, the Dwyer Hill Training Centre. It's on
this 80-hectare base at the intersection of Franktown and Dwyer Hill roads
that JTF2 practices waging war against terrorists.
But Mr. Mayhew says the Department of National Defence and Public Works and
Government Services Canada, which has responsibility for the base, have
another war on the go, and this one is directed straight at him. JTF2
doesn't have enough land to conduct its training, and the Defence Department
has long coveted Mr. Mayhew's property.
"They want to push me out of here, but I have no intention of leaving," says
Mr. Mayhew, who is described by area residents as a reasonable and
hard-working businessman. "I was here first, long before they ever came."
Mr. Mayhew says the military has been blunt about its desire to take over
his land, 30 kilometres from Ottawa, and that he should clear out.
An officer with the Canadian Forces property section told him that since his
acreage is located next to the Dwyer Hill training centre, it is now
worthless and he should sell it to the Defence department. He was offered
$125,000 for the land, a little more than $1,000 an acre. Similar property
in the area sells for $7,000 to $10,000 an acre.
Mr. Mayhew says he has tried to be a good neighbour, but those overtures
have been continually rebuffed. He can't even walk on his own property
without being put under surveillance by the ever-present military guards.
As Mr. Mayhew shows two journalists around his land, an unmarked Canadian
Forces vehicle with dark-tinted windows drives along the base's perimeter,
slowly tracking the group. Finally, a man inside the vehicle who is dressed
in a black uniform shouts at Mr. Mayhew, demanding to know who he is.
The farmer gives his name and replies that he has owned the property for the
last 20 years.
"We can check that out," the man in black says, without ever identifying
himself. He later acknowledges he is a military police officer, but does not
offer his name.
"Go right ahead and check it out," Mr. Mayhew shouts back.
The man in black then questions whether the journalists obtained permission
from the Defence department to be on Mr. Mayhew's property. At that point,
Mr. Mayhew just shakes his head in disgust. "This is pretty typical of how
they behave," he explains.
It hasn't always been that way. Two decades ago, when Mr. Mayhew bought his
land, the property next door was home to Dwyer Hill Farms, considered one of
the best horse stables in the country. Mr. Mayhew, who lives in a farmhouse
a few minutes from Dwyer Hill Road, wanted extra land where his animals
could graze. The 36 hectares beside the stables were perfect for his needs.
After he retired from farming, Mr. Mayhew planned to develop the land and
sell lots for new homes.
In 1987, area residents heard that the RCMP had purchased the Dwyer Hill
stables and farm and everyone assumed the property would become the home for
the Mounties' Musical Ride. Instead, it became the new base for the federal
police force's counter-terrorism team. Soon the tranquil countryside was
full of the sounds of machine-gun fire, explosions and the whump-whump of
low-flying helicopters.
Despite the noise, Mr. Mayhew said the RCMP were good neighbours when they
operated the installation. The Mounties would let area residents know that
the helicopters would be flying during a particular week, although, for
security reasons, they would never give the actual dates of the
counter-terrorist practice sessions.
Even so, that information was enough that the locals could plan their social
events around the chopper flights. People knew it wasn't a good idea to have
party or barbecue when counter-terrorist exercises were taking place, since
any event would be drowned out by the noise of gunfire and helicopters.
When a bullet from the Dwyer Hill shooting range almost struck one of Mr.
Mayhew's farm workers in the head, the RCMP quickly fixed the problem that
had permitted the rounds to skim over a safety wall. He produces a 1992
letter from the Mounties thanking him for his efforts in working with the
federal police force at Dwyer Hill and in being interested in "developing a
positive co-operative relationship with us (rather) than creating a great
to-do about the events.
"As a farmer, Mr. Mayhew must and should be able to use his land for all
lawful purposes," the RCMP letter states. "Of this there can be little
doubt."
Mr. Mayhew and other area residents say that neighbourly approach changed
when the Canadian Forces took over the counter-terrorism duties and JTF2
moved into the base. Although he says the JTF2 soldiers are friendly
enough -- they sometimes wave at him when they fly overhead in their
choppers -- the Defence department and Public Works bureaucracy is another
thing.
Mr. Mayhew has had to go to his lawyer to prevent Canadian Forces officials
from continuing to come on to his property without permission and
confronting his workers. In one incident, military police demanded to know
the identities of his longtime employees who were trimming his trees.
After Mr. Mayhew told a Public Works manager at the base that he planned to
set up a commercial vegetable-growing operation on his property, Dwyer Hill
officials immediately asked if they could come on to his land to remove a
beaver dam. They said they were concerned the dam could cause flooding on
the base, so the farmer readily agreed to their request.
A few days later when Mr. Mayhew toured his property he saw what the
military and Public Works crews had actually been up to. They had used a
front-end loader to carve two giant trenches into his land. Each trench was
about six metres wide. One was about 300 metres in length and ran across the
middle of his property, while the other was 250 metres long. Water started
collecting in the trenches almost immediately, flooding part of Mr. Mayhew's
property.
He notes that by digging the trenches, the Dwyer Hill officials destroyed
the rich soil he had hoped to use for his commercial vegetable operation.
"It was very obvious that what they did in there was done to prevent me from
gardening," Mr. Mayhew says. "They don't want any people or any type of
business on this property."
Government officials said the damage, estimated at between $150,000 to
$200,000, would be repaired, but nothing was ever been done about it. The
Defence department has told Mr. Mayhew that if he sells out, they'll include
the money needed to fill in the trenches and restore the pasture as part of
any settlement.
While he was trying to get government officials to acknowledge what they had
done to his property, fuel oil leaked from the Dwyer Hill base and into
surrounding ditches and on to Mr. Mayhew's farmland. In 1999 and 2000,
environmental crews were brought in to remove six truckloads of contaminated
earth from the base, according to provincial government documents. But
nothing was done for Mr. Mayhew's property.
When the farmer tried to take photos of the fuel oil spill in the ditches
along Dwyer Hill Road, military police stopped his vehicle, demanding once
again to know who he was and what he was doing. "They knew very well who I
was because they were watching me the whole time," Mr. Mayhew dryly notes.
"And besides, the ditches are public property. It's not even on their land."
This spring there were signs that fuel oil was still present on Mr. Mayhew's
acreage.
Even government attempts to make amends have ended up costing the farmer
more money. As their way to compensate Mr. Mayhew for the problems he has
faced because of the excessive noise of helicopters and explosions, federal
officials told him they would pay to fence part of his pasture for his
animals. Based on that promise, Mr. Mayhew spent $12,000 of his own money
clearing the fence line and putting in posts. But then the government
stiffed him and refused to pay.
Public Works officials declined to comment about Mr. Mayhew's situation,
referring all calls to the Defence department.
Asked about Mr. Mayhew's allegations of harassment, the fuel oil leak and
the damage to his property, Defence department spokesman Capt. Daryl Morrell
responded with a prepared statement. "DND is aware of this matter and has
been in negotiations with the owners in an attempt to resolve it," he said.
"As this matter is currently unresolved, it would be inappropriate to
discuss the details of this case."
But Mr. Mayhew says there are no negotiations going on and the government
has refused to even acknowledge his latest letters about the ongoing
problems.
Mr. Mayhew is not alone in his concerns about what is happening at the Dwyer
Hill base. Other neighbours declined to talk to the Citizen, but according
to heavily censored military documents, in May 2001 the Defence department
received a complaint from at least one other resident that JTF2 soldiers
entered his property without permission. Military police found signs of a
fire and trees on that land were damaged. But the police recommended
conducting a formal investigation only if area residents complained to
civilian authorities.
Another area resident, who asked not to be named, told the Citizen about how
military police threatened to charge her after she made the mistake of
trying to be neighbourly. A letter addressed to JTF2 had been misdirected to
her home so she drove down to the training centre and delivered it to the
guards at the front gate. She then returned to her car and started to drive
away, planning to put her seat-belt on once she got out of the base's
driveway and onto the road.
Instead, she was stopped by a military policeman who threatened to charge
her for not properly wearing a seat-belt. "That's how they treat people out
here," she said.
The area's Liberal MP, David Pratt, said he looked into Mr. Mayhew's case
several years ago and talked to government and military officials on his
behalf. "I did go out to the property and there were clearly problems with
the way he was dealt with by some government officials," said Mr. Pratt.
But once lawyers for the Defence department and Mr. Mayhew became involved
in the case, there was little more he could do, said Mr. Pratt.
He noted the government is looking at possibly expropriating Mr. Mayhew's
land to expand the Dwyer Hill base. The Commons defence committee, of which
Mr. Pratt is chairman, recommended last fall that JTF2 be expanded. A short
time later, the government announced that the unit would double in size over
the next five years from about 300 commandos to 600.
The expansion means that the military's need for Mr. Mayhew's land is even
greater than before. But any expropriation of his property could make
matters worse for area residents. If Mr. Mayhew's farmland is taken by the
government, that would extend the Dwyer Hill base right up to a subdivision
of 30 houses about a kilometre away.
Mr. Mayhew can't understand why the government decided to build a supposedly
top-secret base in the middle of an area not only dotted with farms, but one
that will undoubtedly in the future see more housing developments as the
City of Ottawa grows.
He notes that just 10 kilometres away are large tracts of inexpensive land,
covered with swamp and trees, that would be ideal for JTF2 to conduct
training in absolute secrecy.
Mr. Mayhew acknowledges that since the Defence department has
taxpayer-funded lawyers at their disposal, they could drag out any legal
battle for years. He even concedes at one point he would have considered
selling his property to the government if he had found suitable land nearby.
But because of how the military and Public Works has handled the situation
that is no longer an option.
Mr. Mayhew says he's not going to allow the Defence department to force him
off his property, at least without a fight.
Last Wednesday, Mr. Mayhew watched in disbelief as a government-hired crew
drove across his land, without permission, and then began surveying his
acreage.
After the farmer confronted the trespassers, they told him it was their
understanding the land was owned by the government.
"What they're doing is just wrong," says an exasperated Mr. Mayhew. "I'll
fight it until I have nothing left, because if they're allowed to do to this
to me, then they could do it to any other person. They're just out of
control."
© Copyright 2002 The Ottawa Citizen