The Bridge with Peter Mansbridge - Your Turn -- Your Remembrance Day Memories

Episode Date: November 7, 2024

Important memories that so many of you don't want to see forgotten.

And hello there, Peter Mansbridge here. You're just moments away from the latest episode of The Bridge. It's Thursday, that means your turn on a very special subject today. That's coming right up. And hello there, Peter Mansbridge here once again with The Bridge. Thursdays means your turn, and I had two distinct choices as to which way we could take your turn today. We could talk about your views, your feelings, your concerns, your excitement. Could have been any one of those things in terms of the result from the U.S. election two days ago. Or we could talk about what I had promised we'd talk about on this day,

which is your thoughts, your memories, about what Remembrance Day means to you. Remembrance Day means to you. Remembrance Day coming up in just a few days' time. Well, here's the way I made the decision on this. First of all, we have discussed the U.S. election from a lot of different angles for the past three days. We did a Monday program with Jenna Stein about what it could mean to the world if Donald Trump won, what it would mean to the world if Kamala Harris won.

We talked about that for a full program, and we got lots of nice comments from you about it. Tuesday was a more butts conversation, number 18, which was all about the impact on Canada of a U.S. election day and a change of government, which no matter the outcome, it was going to mean. And yesterday, we talked about the immediate consequences of what had happened on Tuesday night. So three full days of programming on that versus a change changing subject. I think any of you who have listened to my program over the last few years or followed my career over the last 55 years,

you know that days like Remembrance Day mean a lot to me. Discussion and talk of our military history means a lot to me. And your feelings mean a lot to me. We tried this last year, and we had overwhelming response from you in terms of letters about what Remembrance Day has meant to you and your family. And so I've chosen to do that again this week. And I've got to tell you, I once again appreciate the notes that came in. Some short, to the point. Others a little longer.

I've been through them all. There's not going to be room to read them all because there have been so many. But we've edited down some to make them a little shorter. But we'll get as many in as we can. And with that, let's get going. The question was simple. What has Remembrance Day meant to you and your family, and what memories do you have, and why do you have those memories? First letter comes from Gene Wolting in Guelph, Ontario. My father died this year, one month before his 98th birthday. He was from the

Netherlands. My parents were very grateful for the Canadians that rescued them from Hitler's occupation. For many years, my father laid a wreath in the village of Drayton on behalf of Dutch Canadians, thanking Canadians for their contribution to the liberation of the Netherlands. Drayton is just a little west of Guelph. I have visited the Netherlands four times and have been to Holton Cemetery on three of those visits. I've been there. It's an emotional place. A couple of thousand Canadians buried there. The Dutch take very good care of the cemetery filled with Canadian

soldiers. They sure do. My sisters will take over the laying of the wreath this year on behalf of my parents. Marilyn Wallace from Fanny Bay, British Columbia, who can always be relied on to write something interesting, does not disappoint this week. My story about my grandfather's experience during World War I is sadly not a story at all. I inherited a box of war memorabilia after he died, which is the only reason that I know he left his rural Ontario home to join the 1st Tank Battalion in England. He was a quiet, reserved man who never once talked with me about his time there. I have his war uniform, woolen and heavy,

still carrying the rough stitches that he used to make the pants fit. The gold pin on the front etched with his name makes me wonder what he was thinking when it was pinned there. Was he proud, excited, afraid? There's even a very old wallet that has a hidden, small, plain, nondescript rock for over a hundred years now. I would love to know the story about this special rock that came back to Canada with him. Was it found at the location of a fallen comrade? Did it come from the last road he walked on overseas? There's so much that I wish I knew. Marilyn included some pictures of the things she inherited. Thank you, Marilyn.

Dave Warren writes, Dave forgot to tell us where he was writing from, but I was born in 1955. My grandma's brother flew for the Royal Newfoundland Air Force. He didn't come home. His name, my namesake, can be found on the memorial in Malta. My youngest daughter did a pencil rubbing of his name while on holiday nearby. I have it framed on my wall.

Every November 11th at the Cenotaph, I think of him. David Robert Lambie Wilson, and others just like him. Heroes all. Well, Dave, I'd never heard of the Royal Newfoundland Air Force, so I looked it up and discovered actually it didn't exist. But your grandmother's brother certainly did. I see he died on June 6, 1943, when he was just 20 years old while flying in the Royal Canadian Air Force.

Many Newfoundlanders did. Remember, Newfoundland had not joined Confederation at this time, didn't join until 49. A little more research. Prior to World War II, there were fewer than 12 pilots in Newfoundland. When war broke out, 29 Newfoundlanders joined the RAF, the British Air Force. The Newfoundland government, of course not yet part of Canada, pressed for a Newfoundland unit, and No. 125 Squadron sort of became one. The squadron badge incorporated the Newfoundland Caribou, but at no point did Newfoundlanders form a majority of the members. Your great-uncle's name on the Malta Memorial is one of 285 names of men from the Royal Canadian Air Force. Ed Crawford in Moncton, New Brunswick. I was stationed in CFS, Canadian Forces Station,

Debert, Nova Scotia, when my father, a World War II veteran, passed away. The following Remembrance Day, I was asked to be one of the soldiers standing at the cenotaph, head down, rifle barrel on my toe as the snow fell during the ceremony. I used this time to reflect on my father's service and experience, as well as the shared experience of those he served and fought with overseas. Like many, he was not inclined to speak of what he saw or did there. I stood this post a few other times during my time in uniform. It always meant a great deal to me to be able to fulfill this duty as a time of remembrance for my father and all the others who have fallen before or since. Kirk Bailey in Calgary.

Every Remembrance Day, I think of two family members who served in the Canadian military. The first is my great-grandfather, William Red Hill Sr., who served in World War I, was gassed at Ypres, and was awarded two medals for bravery. He was a colorful character, known primarily as a river man and a daredevil in Niagara Falls. In addition to his war service, he was awarded multiple times for feats of bravery at home, saving his sister from a house fire, saving people from death in the Niagara River after an ice bridge collapsed, and again when a scowl became stuck near the brink of the falls. Although he survived the war, his injuries shortened his life, and he died at the age of 54.

The second is Red Hill's son and my grandfather, Major Hill. Major was his given name. Major was selected to be a member of the Secretive First Special Services Force in World War II, an elite commando unit that was given the nickname Devil's Brigade by a German lieutenant who faced them at Anzio. Major Hill was a paratrooper who served primarily in Italy and lost a leg due to damage from shrapnel. I'll always remember my grandfather's sense of humor. One day as we were playing catch, he surprised me. I threw the ball, and in the time it took for the ball to reach him,

he had unfastened his prosthetic leg and swung it like a bat, hitting the ball far over my head. I wish now that I'd been old enough to ask both of these men about their experiences in the war. Although they both survived, I know they paid a heavy price, as did their wives and children. In my grandfather's case, he struggled to make the transition to a normal civilian life after the war. Remembrance Day for me is a time to honor the memory of these two men and the families that welcomed them home.

Deborah Baker in Vancouver. For me, Remembrance Day is a very poignant reminder of who I am today and what my family lived through during World War II in the Netherlands. My 84-year-old uncle remembers catching and eating chocolate bars thrown in celebration by Canadian soldiers as they walked through my family's newly liberated village in Friesland in May of 1945. My opa, my grandfather, was interned at a work camp during the war, and my beppe, grandmother, was forced to house and feed German soldiers in their home. I observe a minute of silence on the morning of November 11th, whether or not I'm at a ceremony with others. It's a chance to be deeply thankful for all Canadian soldiers from so many backgrounds and regions who bravely

fought and for Canada to have taken in so many immigrants after these wars. It's a solemn day that I make very sure I share and teach about with my young girls in an age-appropriate way to remind them both of their roots and their connection to Canada. Al Short in Coal Stream, B.C. That's in the Okanagan. My grandfather, while still living in Turriff, Scotland, fought in World War I. Then in World War II, he was a guard at a prisoner of war camp in Alberta. My dad was a flight instructor in the RCAF in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan from 1941 to

1944. Then in May of 1944, he volunteered for an overseas assignment which took him to England as a pilot officer, and he flew many missions over Germany for a year. He was awarded the Air Force Cross for his contributions. When he returned to Canada, he led a war bond drive flying a Lancaster across the country, stopping at many cities, taking reporters for a tour through his aircraft. Al sent a picture at the Lancaster that his father flew. My father flew in Lancasters during the Second World War as well. He was in the RAF, did 51 active missions, was also awarded the DFC.

Christine Ramos in Toronto. My memories of Remembrance Day are tied to the high school I attended. York Memorial Collegiate Institute was built in 1929 in what was then called the town of York. The school was built as a memorial to the young boys who left school and gave their lives in the First World War. The main hall and the entrance to the auditorium was decorated with tributes to these young soldiers. The auditorium had beautiful stained glass windows commemorating the Battle of the Plains of Abraham and the Battle of Ypres in 1915. There was also a set of 11 steps leading to the front entrance,

a representation of the 11th of November, 1918, Armistice Day. It was easy to ignore the photos of the young soldiers on the walls on the warm memorabilia in the glass cases as you rushed to get to your classes. But Remembrance Day was extra special at our school. The auditorium filled with solemn students and staff, decorated with poppies. We always had special guests, war veterans who shared meaningful stories.

We read out loud the names of those boys to ensure we would not forget them. I didn't, and still don't. I have many... I haven't forgotten any personal ties to the wars that have been fought, but the thought that these young men were my age when they died always impressed upon me how privileged a life I lead. Sadly, the school suffered a horrible fire in May of 2019 and has lost a lot of the

history that made that entrance hall and auditorium a memorial to those boys. I can only hope that when it opens in 2026, that what replaces the photos of the young men will still have the gravitas to impress upon new generations of students how privileged they are too. Christine sent an old photo of the school and of the stained glass, much appreciated for that. The Toronto District School Board says the school is a designated heritage building and right after the fire efforts were undertaken to salvage key elements and artifacts. It says the reconstructed building will recreate many significant features of the original school. Shannon Bradley Green in Cochrane, Alberta.

As a retired high school teacher with a 40-year career under my belt, I have very strong memories of Remembrance Day. Lust we forget is our responsibility. We must create in our younger generations the need to honor those who have given the ultimate sacrifice. I observed my colleagues share their own specialties. Usually music, drama, and art is the best ways to connect with students each year to share the eternal message. It always amazed me how the normally buzzing hallways would quiet completely as the students filed out of their classrooms and made their way to the Remembrance Day assembly in the gym. The solemnity of the time instinctively reminded them that there was something out there bigger than themselves.

The art teachers had students create reflective pieces that changed the gym into a room that was more reminiscent of a church. The drama teachers had students create evocative dialogues to help students understand that war was hell. And of course, the band teachers had students learn the solemn music that used its own language to teach the students that remembering the dead is the highest honor and their own personal responsibility. So often Flanders Fields was presented in some way the most impactful was always a simple reading of the poem so that its rhyme and meter could sink into the memories of

the students. Most parents and the public never see these assemblies. Yet each year they create a powerful message to our youth that we must indeed take up our quarrel with the foe. And to you from failing hands we throw the torch. Must become a civic responsibility that resides in their hearts, that defies race, religion, gender, or any other division. Such great letters. Betsy Daub in St. Agatha, Ontario.

My grandfather went to Europe in World War I. He was in his late 20s. I had met my grandmother in high school in Vermont. They had wanted to marry, but my grandmother's mom would not allow it. I don't think she would have approved of any man who wanted to marry her daughter. My grandparents did not give up, and my great-grandmother finally said yes after my grandfather had been called up in 1916. They married in the afternoon, the day before he left for Europe. My great-grandparents were hoping that my grandfather would not come back.

But he did, and hence I am here. I never talked to him about his war experiences because I was too young, and when I was old enough to want to know, he was gone, as was my grandmother. I do wish I'd been able to talk to him. Somehow, I did not have the courage to ask my mom. Matthew Sklarczyk in Vernon, B.C. Over the past year, I've done some research on my great-uncle, Jan Bromilski.

He was a Polish soldier who was captured by the Germans early on and sent to prison in early 1940. He was sent to a new camp called Auschwitz. Of the millions of people sent there, he was number 1,040. Two days prior to the liberation of the camp by the Soviets, he was put on a train to Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria, where he remained until they were liberated May 5, 1945 by the Americans. He spent the entire war in the Nazi concentration camp system, managed to survive and witness horrors the human imagination would be terrified to entertain. He died in the 1950s and I never got to meet him.

Due to the continued occupation of Eastern Bloc countries by the Soviets after the war, by the mid-1980s my parents had enough and came to Canada, where I was born shortly afterward. I'm the first in my family to be born here, and Canada is the only home I've ever known. Remembrance Day is very important to me because, although I have no family history here prior to 1985, I take tremendous pride in being part of a nation with such a rich and exceptional military history, and am also thankful for the sacrifice of her soldiers, without which my family and I would not exist. My wife of Dutch ancestry and I make a point of dressing up and attending the ceremonies. We will always remember them. One more before we take a break

Barb Dawson in Dresden, Ontario I always knew the importance of Remembrance Day and knew that it was an important day for my dad He served in the British Royal Navy during World War II and never really spoke of his experiences He was a proud member of the Legion and the Navy vets and every November 11th carried the colors in the parade of the Cenotaph. I found out just how important it was to him the year he marched in the parade with acute appendicitis, only giving up the colors

at the end of the service to another veteran because his appendix ruptured. This happened over 50 years ago. And while I don't carry the colors, I've only missed one service myself, coincidentally because I was recovering from an appendectomy. Okay, we're going to take a quick break, but there's lots more letters. And I want to try and get to all of them. So, stand by. We'll be back in a moment. And welcome back.

You're listening to The Bridge, the Thursday episode. Today it's your turn and your memories of your remembrance days as we approach that solemn time of year. You're listening on Sirius XM, channel 167, Canada Talks, or on your favorite podcast platform. However you're listening to us, we're glad that you joined us on this special day. Okay, back to our letters. This one comes from Pete Quinn in Ottawa.

My wife, now retired Brigadier General Darlene Quinn, commanded Formation Europe from 2018 to 2021. During the Battle of Mons in August of 1914, British Lieutenant Maurice Dees was killed in action defending a bridge across a canal. A nearby swing bridge across the same canal was captured by the German musketeer Oskar Niemeyer, who also died in the attempt. Deese and Niemeyer were awarded the first Victoria Cross and Iron Cross of the First World War for their actions, the highest British and German awards for bravery. A British soldier, Private John Parr, was the first Allied casualty of the war, killed just two days earlier, just outside Mons. After four years of trench warfare across northern France, Canadian soldiers liberated Mons in November of 1918.

A Canadian private, George Price, was the last Commonwealth soldier to die, killed by a German sniper at 5 minutes to 11 on November 11th. Thies, Niemeyer, Parr and Price are all buried at St. Symphorian Cemetery, just outside Mons, on land granted to the Germans by a Belgian farmer on the strict condition that they would agree to treat the war dead from both sides of the conflict with equal dignity. To my knowledge, this beautiful cemetery is the only one

with the dead from both sides of the conflict in near equal numbers. Darlene represented Canada at four different ceremonies on the 100th anniversary of the armistice on November 11, 2018. I watched her lay a wreath for the Canadian soldiers buried at St. Symphorion, alongside her German, British, and Irish peers, the four representing all the war dead buried there. I had the privilege, as her consort, to lay a bouquet at Private Price's grave. We had the additional privileges of watching the unveiling of a beautiful memorial to Price in the town where he was killed. And everyone knows his name, seeing Canadian troops march into the grand place in Amon in a reenactment of the liberation 100 years earlier, and best of all, sharing lunch with the elderly grandnephews of Dease and Price.

Private Price had lived less than 10 minutes from our former home in Wolfville, Nova Scotia, and Lieutenant Deese's grandnephew wore a replica of the VC, the original of which is held in the Tower of London. Craig Fisher in Victoria. My thoughts go to my grandfather. I knew he was in World War I, but never gave it much thought. I read Pierre Burton's Vimy and went to visit my grandfather. I knew he was in World War I, but never gave it much thought. I read Pierre Burton's Vimy and went to visit my grandfather, and on his bed was the same book. I told him I had just finished the book. He told me he was there and his experiences. As far as I

know, the first time he talked to a family member about it. I went to Vimy and spent Remembrance Day 2013 there, an experience I will never forget, and nor, Craig, will anyone who goes to Vimy and spent Remembrance Day 2013 there, an experience I will never forget. And nor, Craig, will anyone who goes to Vimy. My grandfather fought at Vimy as well. And going to that place, it's a shrine. I've been there, I think, half a dozen times. It's amazing. Mark Nicholson, St. John, New Brunswick.

I'm a pediatrician. I have always tried to observe Remembrance Day, preferably in person, regardless of where I've lived. Both of my grandfathers served in World War II, one in the Navy and one in the Army, so it has always felt important. I had first attended services at the Cenotaph in St. John when in Beavers Clubs or Scouts. I've been to ceremonies in Fredericton, Halifax, Summerside, and St. John's. I've been fortunate enough to be in Ottawa twice at the National War Memorial. My most special memory, though, would be from my time in St. John's, Newfoundland. I was there for my pediatric residency at the Janeway Children's Hospital. A friend and I joined the Crow's Nest Officers Club and had the great fortune of visiting the club located 59 steps from the Newfoundland National

War Memorial on Duckworth Street on Remembrance Day. After the Remembrance Day service at the War Memorial, we made our way to the crow's nest. It was an honor to be in the company of World War II veterans there as they celebrated their fallen comrades. Despite the seriousness of the occasion, eventually a sing-along took place involving the club's piano featuring songs from the wartime era. It was truly a magical experience. Michael Brody in Guelph, Ontario. A couple of letters from Guelph today. In 2018, my dad and I, along with a teaching partner who is in Afghanistan, sorry, who is an Afghanistan vet, met at John McRae's house in Guelph, Ontario before 6 a.m. The Guelph Pipe Band was playing Battles Over

to mark the 100th anniversary of the armistice that ended World War I. The piping was a worldwide initiative started by the National Piping Centre in Glasgow, Scotland, so a few thousand pipers were playing the same tune at the same time to mark the end of the war. Originally it was supposed to be on the grounds of the McRae house, but due to weather concerns, we all crammed inside to listen. It was something special. Terry Sims in Victoria, BC. During my career with the Canadian military, I was posted to Germany from 1997 to 2000. On the day that the remains of the unknown soldier, who now lies at the foot of the National War Memorial in Ottawa, was taken from Vimy Ridge, France, I traveled there with a few

colleagues to be part of the entourage to help send him on his way. As we stood at attention below the monument saluting, while he was marched off by an honor guard, I glanced up at the monument where a lone piper played his lament. A cold breeze picked up and blew down the ridge, and it felt unmistakable that we were surrounded by the lost souls of Vimy Ridge sending off their comrade. I will never forget the honor of being there for that special day. Colleen Williams in Barneys River Station, Nova Scotia. Remembrance Day took on a heightened meaning when my aunt began hosting a family gathering at her home following the Remembrance Day ceremonies in the nearby village of Thorburn, Nova Scotia. took on a heightened meaning when my aunt began hosting a family gathering at her home following

the Remembrance Day ceremonies in the nearby village of Thorburn, Nova Scotia. Four generations would gather in her cozy bungalow to honor my grandfather, who served in both world wars, and my uncle, who was part of the liberation of Holland in the Second World War. This was our only annual family gathering for my mother's family, with at least 50 or more family members deeply conscious of the sacrifices of these loved relatives and their compatriots. Our children and grandchildren grew up anticipating the ceremony and the family reunion that followed. The warmth of the house and the delicious potluck comfort food were so welcome following what was usually a cold, damp outdoor ceremony. It's a memory of remembering that all of us treasure.

My aunt is no longer with us, but her tradition has made November 11th very special. Jason Craig in Conqueror Mills, Nova Scotia. I want to speak to the memory of Colin Wilmot. He was a medic with One Field Ambulance. He died July 6, 2008, at 24 years old, near Kandahar, Afghanistan, via a roadside bomb. He was my cousin. Young adulthood saw us drift apart for several years,

and earlier that summer we spoke of our plans to reconnect. We didn't get the chance. I want to also speak to the memory of my great-uncle, Gerald Cooper, Royal Canadian Horse Artillery. He served in several peacekeeping deployments in Cyprus and the Golan Heights. He was very proud of that service, from a time when we still made those noble efforts. Kay Crawford.

Didn't mention where she was from. Really, please try to remember those things. The only times I remember my father crying was on Remembrance Day watching clips from the war. I'm sure he remembered the friends he lost and the horrors he saw. Like most veterans, he never talked about the war. However, I do remember one exchange we had on the subject. He asked me to imagine him as a teenager playing football during some downtime with a friend in the morning, then seeing his friend's cold white face lying dead on the battlefield in the afternoon. That was his reality at age 19.

Conscripted as a 19-year-old in Poland, the first country to be invaded by Germany, he landed in a prisoner of war camp very early in the Second World War. He escaped, walked over the Pyrenees mountains, starving all the way, and eventually was captured by Spain. He was traded in a prisoner exchange with England after spending time hungry again in a Spanish jail. Then he was trained some more and sent back to the front to fight through France, finally being shot in the leg in Holland just before the end of the war. My mother shared this story with me, not my dad. It is amazing that he survived physically or emotionally, although some scars of both remained until his dying day. Don Hampton in Grand Prairie, Alberta.

November 11th, 1996 forever remains in my memory as my 74-year-old father lay in an ICU in a fight for his life. He walked down to the Legion that day to seek comfort and to honor everything he and countless other Canadian soldiers gave for our freedom. Dad was a member of the 1st Canadian Paratroop Battalion flying into the battlegrounds with the British 6th Airborne Division. Fortunately for our mother, he was one of the lucky ones that returned. All he strived for after was peace and serenity.

Dad passed away on November 14th. Remembrance Day holds a very special day in our hearts. Linda Williams in Moncton, New Brunswick. My father was a veteran of the Second World War with the North Shore Regiment. As children, we didn't look forward to Remembrance Day, as our dad was always sad, and as his eyes welled up, we knew the reason, and we never knew what to say. He didn't talk much about his days overseas, but it was easy to feel his sadness.

In the late 80s, my father went back to Normandy with two other comrades. On one occasion, they had stopped at a monument in Carpeche that has been dedicated to the lost soldiers of the regiment. As they were looking at a map to continue their journey, a woman approached them and was elated to tell them she had presented flowers to Father Hickey, the regiment's chaplain, at the dedication of this monument in 1987. After the dedication, Father Hickey passed away that night in his sleep. Father Hickey had given my dad a rosary.

Suzanne Marie invited them to her house and shared her story of how as a child in Normandy she had walked for days further south in France to escape the bombing. Of course, they reminisced all day and for years afterwards, many trips to Normandy and Canada were had. Even though my father and Suzanne's stories were different, what they both witnessed was passed on to both our families. It was after this trip that finally my father would tell of the monstrosities he witnessed still with very tearful eyes. It was very hard for the veterans to speak in public, but my father was invited on numerous occasions to speak at schools, and we were so proud when he would leave with

all his medals pinned on his blazer. My father, my hero. Drew Penner, not sure where Drew is right now, but he was in Ottawa for this story. My Remembrance Day memory takes me back to 2014. I moved to Ottawa from Winnipeg for grad school in August that year. I was studying in the University of Ottawa library, preparing for midterms in October when the horrible attack occurred at the war memorial

and Corporal Nathan Cirillo was killed. We were in lockdown for several hours while the scene was secured until we were finally allowed to go home. That November 11th, I attended my first Remembrance Day service in Ottawa. It was a heavy ceremony, the events of the last few weeks being fresh in our minds. I remember the speeches. I felt the tolling from the Peace Tower in my heart, and when the piper played the lament, I was moved to tears. The sadness of the event was very real and present. However, the turnout that year was very large, and one could feel the sense of community and desire to come together to grieve and be together in our common loss. We should come together more often. I was there that day, too, doing the broadcast.

It was incredibly moving. David Oliver writes from Oak Bay, BC. We haven't heard from David for a while. It's good to hear from him. Oak Bay is part of Victoria. On Remembrance Day, I think of my father back in Britain during World War II. He was excluded from service in the armed forces due to a minor disability and worked as a motor engineer keeping the buses running.

This was important in our town. There were factories building tanks, trucks, planes, and all kinds of war material and people needed to get to work. My very patriotic dad felt deeply the fact that he had not served in the armed forces during the war, although he did join the Home Guard. We never attended any ceremonies at the local cenotaph, and at our church on Remembrance Sunday, when the veterans turned out in their blazers and medals, his discomfort was palpable. Yet in his way, like millions of others, he had contributed to the war effort and endured many privations. So spare a thought on Remembrance Day for those who did not serve, but made a contribution and kept calm and carried on.

Good advice. And they did serve. They just served in a different way, the men and women who kept the country running, kept the factories going. Ian Gorman. Ian writes from Ottawa. My father volunteered for overseas service in the summer of 1941. He joined the 2nd Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment as a civilian morale officer in uniform with nominal rank of Captain

and with the letters USA on his shoulder patches to show that he was a dual citizen. He was one of very few civilians to get a citation from Field Marshal Montgomery for combat service. Monty was not at liberty to mention counterintelligence work, but he did say that my father had been a very effective morale officer. My father did not want to talk much about his military activities,

but he did tell stories about related activities. In North Africa, it was difficult to keep trucks in good repair, and some trucks became so unsafe that the men were afraid to take the trucks into battle but the regiment could only get a replacement in exchange for an inoperable truck my father converted unsafe trucks to inoperable trucks by backing each truck over a mine. According to him, that activity was safe if you packed enough sandbags around the cab. My father didn't think he had done anything special. He, just like so many others, stood up to be counted when he was needed. Unlike some,

he did come back. Richard Sainer in Guelph. Another letter from Guelph. And this is our, this is the last letter today. And we saved this one to last because of its content. Richard writes, Our dad served in the Canadian Army during World War II. Like many others, he did not share many stories about those years.

One story does stand out. The journey home to Canada on the troop ship served as a reunion for him. One day he was standing on the deck when this voice said, Hey, brother. Here was his younger brother, who was returning home on the same ship. Can you imagine that moment? Fast forward to 11 years ago, 2013. I had arranged to take him to the Remembrance Day service

of the senior's home where he was living. As I walked through the entrance, I was greeted by one of the staff who told me that Dad was a little under the weather that morning. So I went to his room and said, we could watch the service from Ottawa. That was okay with him. However, things changed drastically.

By the time the last post had been played in British Columbia, our dad had fought his final battle. Remembrance Day has since become a day of remembrance that can never be forgotten by our family. You know, I think for so many of us who had relatives, who had positions in the conflicts of the past, whether they be Afghanistan or Bosnia or some of the peacekeeping missions

of the 60s, 70s, and 80s, Cyprus, Golan Heights, or whether it was Korea or World War II or World War II, or World War I, Remembrance Day has always been a part of our memory. Maybe faded at times as we've grown older. Perhaps there have been years where we basically kind of ignored it. And yet other times when we've got back into the groove of remembering. So many of

your letters, as I mentioned, there were more than just the ones I read today. Do call upon that experience and those memories of sitting in the family home with brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, fathers and mothers, watching the television, watching the National Service from Ottawa, or as in so many communities, not just big cities, but small towns, across our country, gathering at the memorials that represent a community's feeling to those who have been lost. That started after the First World War, where communities, I mean, governments didn't pay for those memorials. So when you drive through a little town,

you see that memorial. That was put there by the people of that community to remember their relatives, their friends, their neighbors. Some who had served and returned home, some who had not returned home. Now, I was in Alberta this week talking to the Rural Municipalities Association,

and I used some of this connection to our past, talking about the memorials that are in small communities, Lacombe County, Vermilion River, and bigger communities like Red Deer. Alberta, not unlike other provinces in the country, a distinguished military background. In the First World War, 35% of Alberta's male population enlisted to serve. 35%.

And of that figure, half, half of that 35% were either killed or injured during the First World War. So people and communities and countries have memories. And in a couple of days, many of us will join in remembering. We'll wear our poppies and think of those who served to allow us the lives we live today. All right, that's going to wrap it up for this day. we live today. All right, that's going to wrap it up for this day.

Tomorrow, Friday, we'll be back, of course, with good talk with Bruce and Chantel. Lots to talk about, as always, this week. And thanks to the random rancor, the random ranter who took a pass this week knowing we were doing Remembrance Day and thought it should be best left, as I did as well, to those who were writing in. The ranter will return next week. All right, I'm Peter Mansbridge.

Thanks so much for listening. Talk to you again in less than 24 hours.