Remind Me to Remember

This week in Canada we remember those who died in the wars since World War I. November 11, 1918 ("at the 11th. hour, of the 11th. day of the 11th. month") the Armistice was signed in Europe. It is primarily a Commonwealth observation. However, other countries also remember their dead soldiers. In France and Belgium it is called Armistice Day and in the United States, after the Korean War,  Veterans Day.

My Uncle Tom was killed near the end of WW1. Some young cousins, whom I knew very well,  never came home from WWII and some who did, suffered what is now called PTSD or  Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Currently, I have a nephew serving in Afghanistan. Our family, and so many other Canadian families, have suffered a great deal because of these on-going wars, and it is good to remember the many sacrifices they have made. Unfortunately, mankind still turns to violence to solve so many of its disagreements.

Born in the late 1920's WWI was still a topic of conversation especially when we remembered those family relatives who were killed in that war.  I was too young to serve in WWII. But I keenly remember the war years: the food stamps, gas rations, war bonds and stamps, ARP's (Air Raid Police), blackouts, (that forced me under my blanket-draped bed to study), food shortages, the dreaded MIA (Missing in Action) letters from the military, and the huge British Warships and freighters in the harbour. I was young and caught up in the propaganda as were so many. I joined the cadets, made a huge 'V' for Victory sign out of wood and nailed it to the back of the garage where it could be seen from the railway station in the valley below our property. As a member of a bugle band I used to go to the same spot to practice and draw attention to the large white 'V'.  I hoped the war would last long enough so I could go and participate. (I think I was motivated by teen-age angst in my search for meaning  and my dis-taste of school!)

Among the things I took away from that experience was the realization how easily masses of people can be manipulated or paralysed with fear by powerful governments and what terrible violence we humans are capable of exercising towards our fellow man.

I was living in Dayton, Ohio in the late 60's during the Vietnam War and was even called into the recruiting station to be registered. The local Selective Service Board classified me as 5-A meaning I was over the age of liability or older than twenty-six. I was required to carry my classification card with me at all times. I asked the recruitment officer under what circumstances might I be called to "duty". He replied: "When the gooks land on the Eastern Seaboard." That experience was so different from my childhood experience of war. It was as if most Americans just wanted it to be kept out of their minds. I was sent to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri,  the U.S. Army Training Center Headquarters, by the publishing company I worked for, to do some teacher training. I was appalled by the attitudes  of the officers, the overbearing behaviour of the drill sergeant,  and the deep anger of the enlisted men.

This terrible war taught me how easily families can be torn apart and young  lives shattered forever.

I learned over the years that war is not a romantic experience and most often not an even an act of patriotism. Soldiers in some of the recent wars have said it was not loyalty to their country that had them carry on, but loyalty to each other. In other words helping each other just to survive! And recently, a retired soldier who went to Afghanistan said the reason each soldier was there was personal, but for many, it was simply the right thing to do, to prove oneself, to play a part in a great adventure or even to get into a good scrap. (Globe and Mail, November 7, 2011)

The red poppy is in memory of those who died. The white poppy for those in a military intervention in a conflict situation - Peace Keepers. I admit when I see those great veterans on T.V. with their chests covered with medals, I cannot imagine how they must have suffered, and tears come to my eyes. I would hope in the future, however,  that as Canadians we will see more white poppies and fewer red ones in the future.

And that's Dick's View of the World this Week.