To his friends, he was affectionately known as ‘Snowball’; to others, simply ‘Gilles’. But for most folks, Cpl. Joseph Lucien Gilles Dechamplain is a stranger – a name lost to the passage of time.
Hoping to steer Dechamplain's name back into the public consciousness is a new memorial bench in Colwood’s Royal Bay neighbourhood, honouring a life of service and a story worth remembering.
Forty-two years ago, Dechamplain was undergoing training in Colwood to become a navy clearance diver, as part of the Pacific fleet diving unit.
During a training exercise in waters off Albert Head on Feb. 10, 1983, the 25-year-old was involved in a diving accident.
His body was never recovered.
Sitting on the new memorial bench, located on a hill behind Royal Bay Secondary School, retired navy clearance diver Danny Bewsher stares out to the ocean between Esquimalt Lagoon and the Olympic Mountain range – he remembers the day well.
“All I gotta do is close my eyes and I'm there again,” says the Langford resident.
Waiting in choppy waters with a fellow trainee, Bewsher recalls the pair joking around as they waited for a boat to pick them up.
“We were being young dumb boneheads," he says. "We didn't think about how we could whack our heads on the rocks."
But when the boat arrived, the mood quickly changed.
“They told us, ‘We can't find Snowball or Gonzo,’” Bewsher remembers.
Gonzo – another trainee – surfaced not long after, barely coherent. He later explained to Bewsher and the crew what had happened beneath the waves.
At a depth of about 20 feet, Dechamplain began to show signs of distress. Gonzo tried to help, but both men sank quickly.
“Snowball went from flailing to dead weight,” says Bewsher. “Gonzo looked at his depth gauge – they were around 75 feet.”
At that depth, the oxygen in their tanks starts to become toxic, explains Bewsher, so Gonzo had no choice: let go or die trying.
"Being in that kind of water, Gonzo had to cut away to save himself, and get back on the top,” he said.
Because of strong currents, "sometimes up to seven knots," Bewsher believes his friend's body was quickly swept out into the deep ocean.
“There was never any closure for his family at all, that’s the most heartbreaking thing for me,” he says.
The tragedy still lingers in the mind of Bewsher and the others who were in training alongside Dechamplain. More than four decades later, the group remains tightly connected.
“It kept us a closer group,” says Bewsher. “They are like brothers.”
The group have been kicking themselves that the memorial bench was not their idea, says Bewsher.
"But I told the guys that we've got to remember, we don't have trouble forgetting – that's our problem, we can't," he said. "It's other people that need to be reminded."
Behind the idea is Colwood resident Ken Ramsay and another local, who has a connection to Dechamplain.
Ramsay, also a retired navy clearance diver, began his service the year after Dechamplain’s accident.
“His death was not lost on us … we had always hoped that someday we would find his body, or at least his dive gear,” he said.
But without a grave or permanent public memorial, Ramsay and his pal feared Dechamplain’s sacrifice was at risk of being forgotten – remembered only by those who were there.
“It was almost as if he was erased from time,” he said. “So we wanted to find a place where friends could visit, sit, and reflect on his loss.
"It's long overdue, but it's never too late to recognize these people."
A short-lived fundraiser – thanks to the overwhelming support of Bewsher and pals – garnered over $1,400 for the bench.
And with the help of Colwood's public works operations assistant Heather Metcalf, a spot for the bench was found on the trail behind Royal Bay Secondary.
The project took a matter of weeks.
“I don't think they could have picked a nicer spot,” says Bewsher.
“Kenny could have gave me a winning lottery ticket and I wouldn't be any happier than what they did here – I couldn't be any more blown away.”
While the bench stirs painful memories for Bewsher, it also brings moments of joy – reminders of a best friend gone too soon.
Dechamplain was young, carefree – a man who enjoyed life, the outdoors and hanging out with friends, says Bewsher.
He also had a great sense of humour. Something that came in handy for the Quebecer, whose imperfect grasp of the English language was often the butt of good-natured teasing.
“That's why he and I were friends,” says Bewsher. “He would say, ‘I don’t speak one official language and you, being from Cape Breton, don't speak either official language – you don't speak English or French.’”
As for why Dechamplain landed the nickname ‘Snowball’, Bewsher points to his “snow white hair” and fair complexion.
“The only dark thing on him was probably the soles of his shoes,” he jokes.
“I used to joke with him and tell him that he shouldn't drink red Kool Aid – ‘You’re going to look like a thermometer, people can see through you,' I would tell him.”
Never one to blow his own horn, Bewsher thinks Dechamplain would be embarrassed by the thought of a memorial bench in his honour, but also very grateful.
"And hey, I think Snowball would kind of find this spot interesting,” he says. “He’s overlooking a sports field, so he can watch sports all day – something he loved to do – so I think he'd think this is a fitting tribute.”
What Bewsher wishes most though, is that Dechamplain’s parents had lived to see the recognition of their son's life.
“They're the ones who probably needed something like this the most,” he says. “I don't know if the family ever knew what we thought of him.”
Still, Bewsher holds some hope that word of the memorial will reach a long-lost relative in Quebec, or perhaps someone a little closer to home in B.C.
The two best friends first met while serving as field engineers in Chilliwack – Bewsher remembers his buddy had a sister who lived nearby.
He doesn’t know her name, or if she still lives there. “But I hope that somehow she gets to hear about this,” he says.
