True Life Story-ettes
An article by Jeff Mahoney (Hamilton Spectator), tells
of a few war remembrances as related to
him.
Mae Davies, of Hamilton
Mountain had an older brother. “He was
18 when I was born. My mother thought I
was a tumour until it became clear she was having a baby.” So when said brother, George Carnegie, went
off to WWII in 1939, Mae was hardly more than an infant.
Although exchanging letters and
pictures while he served overseas, George didn't talk much about the war after
he returned in 1945. His mother did notice that the army had taught him some
good habits. Like making his bed. Wrong!
It was Mae doing it for him. George died recently, age 93.
George drove a large munitions
convoy truck in the Italian campaign. He
rigged a still in the back of the truck and made liquor from Italian oranges
explaining perhaps, his life-long love of Grand Marnier.
As the liberation of Italy
proceeded apace, George and his unit stopped at a farmhouse. The farmer and his
wife made the most delicious meal of
roasted rabbit with slivers of garlic pushed into the meat. Best of all, the farmer dug something out of
the ground: the one thing he'd kept out
of the Nazi's hands. His homemade red
wine! Priorities, right? They drank it with the meal.
Jen Potter told about
workouts at a gym she attends in Ancaster run by Eddie Warne. He's ex-British military (served in
Iraq). “All last week,” says Jen, “every
workout at the gym was based on the numbers from a different war. Tuesday was WW2 ~ and we had to do presses to
represent the number of soldiers; skips
for the number of countries involved; and 12 'man maker' exercises for the kid
who lied about his age at 12 to serve overseas.”
Eddie has poppies on his workout
shirts. In a recent strongman
competition in the United States, he remitted his winnings to the favourite
charity of a vet he was honouring.
How serious is this guy about
keeping the spirit of Remembrance Day going
all year around? He named his daughter Poppy.
Lorraine
Sommerfeld (Journalist)
says, “Thank you to
All Who Serve!”
“Did you serve?” I was asked. I
looked at the young man taking my money as I paid for a magazine recently at Jacksonville
airport. I'm sure my blank expression confused him, because it took him a moment to
gesture my outfit. I'd been laughing the
day before with a friend at the surplus store, discovering I could buy desert
camo pants. And now, I felt like a
fraud!
We are removed from war even as
we are in the midst of it. Real life,
real-time violent images seem to be blunted by the ridiculous culture we've
created that has decided we want to reflect that violence in our
entertainment. War as entertainment ~
it's no wonder those who are returning from actual war zones struggle...to
find peace in broken bodies...and even more, broken minds.
Canada is a peacekeeper, we're
repeatedly told. But don't forget for a moment that these men and women are
fully trained and ready to face combat if that peace in another nation is
threatened.
Frequently, I drive the Highway
of Heroes ~ that stretch designated as a fallen soldier's last ride. I wonder how many signed up, planning on
becoming heroes. “Did you serve?” echoes
in my brain and I realize this is the word...Serve. I am reminded that those who die serving, have
offered up all they have, and those who have been damaged doing the same thing
have lost who they used to be.
Growing up, Remembrance Day meant
considering something much removed from my sensibilities. Watching old men at ceremonies, proudly
displaying ribbons and pins that I found colourful, but very confounding. I associated the day with standing in the
cold, very quietly, to be respectful while peering cautiously
around...wondering how grown people could cry so silently. Even as I learned
more, I was still unable to grasp how they couldn't leave the past behind...step out of the pain, much like
they'd stepped out of their uniforms. Now we have entire generations all over
the world, who have shown me...the pain lives on. Kids, as young as my own, are
choosing to serve!
Thank You to David
who sends the following poem:
Honour the
Warriors whose blood is the price
For our way of
life, be they our own or Ally and Friend.
These young are
the ones who pay in the end.
Herodotus quoted,
“Fathers bury their sons.”
'Tis always that
way when a war must be won;
The young Man or
Woman who stand in Harm's Way
Are owed such a
debt we cannot repay.
So, Honour our
Dead...speak not ill of them.
Remember their
lives...their courage...their will.
Herodotus, a
Greek historian (484-425 BC) wrote,
In times of peace,
Sons bury their Fathers.
In time of
war...Fathers bury their sons.
Composed by Merle
Baird-Kerr...October 10, 2014
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