I'm sorry, I explained it badly. It wasn't that I was told I couldn't do it.
When I went on a course at Borden for two and a half months, I had to take my test at 11:00 p.m., because they knew they were going to fail me. As well, the camp was dismantled on Saturday, and Monday was when graduation was happening. I was pushed aside, I was given the test as late as possible so I couldn't pass the test. But I didn't fail the test. The person who did that to me was happy to go on site to pick up all my things and put them in my car for me to return to Quebec City.
I cried while I was driving to Quebec City. I didn't dare tell my family why I was there and how I got there.
Monday morning, however, when I appeared in my battalion, Sergeant Vézina asked me what I was doing there. He told me I should be at graduation with the others. I told him I would not be there. He asked me why and I told him I had not passed the test. He was astonished and he told me I had gone to Borden to learn and when I came back I would be able to work. He said this was a formality and they had no right to do that to me. That was when they called the school and the whole process started.
Nobody told me not to talk about it, but I felt that it was shameful, humiliating and crappy to have to go through that as a soldier. In fact, when I was on an operation, some people didn't even call me by my title, they didn't call me "Corporal Duval". They called me "the Haitian". They flat out called me "the Haitian". It was revolting.
I was called all sorts of names. The only time I was really in the spotlight was when we played sports, when we played soccer, because I was good. I was the one who scored all the goals. That was when they asked me to play for the team. I showed off then. I went to the washroom, because I knew that was where I belonged. And then, all the others...