Remembrance Day weekend
I'm looking forward to going to the war memorial this year. I find that it is becoming increasingly important to me. When I was a kid, it just seemed so ordinary, though I always participated - as a brownie, guide, or member of the school band. As the memories fade, and my own son is now of fighting age, I appreciate what is being lost with the passing of a generation, and 70 years of relative peace. My great grandfather served in WW1, and I have a vague recollection of some sort of medallion, but I am unclear about whether he died, was wounded, or what. I think I'll ask my dad this weekend.
My dad was in the military for 33 years, and the closest he ever got to combat was issuing uniforms to troops heading to Cyprus with the first peacekeeping operations in 1974. My cousin Ken did one or two stints in the Golan in the 1980's. Both he and my dad were in Germany in the 1980s, as the Cold War was starting to wind down. I still remember the instructions we all had to be on the lookout for Soviet and East European diplomatic plates, so we could report the possible spies to the military police. Ken's son is now serving, but so far he is safely in Edmonton.
Today, it seems more likely that non-soldiers are targets. My friend Glyn was the first person killed by enemy action in Afghanistan (ie not through friendly fire or an accident). He was a diplomat. My friend Doug was killed in the Haiti earthquake - hewas there on his 3rd peacekeeping mission, this time as head of all the UN police. Acquaintances Louis and Robert were held captive by Al Qaida in the Maghreb for four months, while trying to negotiate a peace deal in Niger. I didn't know the young Canadian diplomat who lost both her legs in the same bombing that killed the Canadian journalist; she was in her mid-twenties, and - judging by her name - may have broken all kinds of cultural stereotypes to do her work. She must have been very bright, as few make it into the foreign service much before the age of 30, and she was already serving abroad (usually something that happens only after at least two years at headquarters).
I'll also be thinking about Captain Nicola Goddard, the first Canadian woman soldier killed in combat. She was the daughter of peace activists, and apparently was a lovely person. I'm proud of her for chosing a path she believed in.
Lots of soldiers have put themselves in harm's way for their country, but this weekend, I will be taking a moment to remember the civilians and non-combattants who made sacrifices. And as I prepare to visit Sierra Leone in January, I'll be thinking about the civilians who get caught up and mutilated, raped, tortured and killed. They are the reason we fight today. We are blessed in Canada, because those things are not government opposition tactics here.
My dad was in the military for 33 years, and the closest he ever got to combat was issuing uniforms to troops heading to Cyprus with the first peacekeeping operations in 1974. My cousin Ken did one or two stints in the Golan in the 1980's. Both he and my dad were in Germany in the 1980s, as the Cold War was starting to wind down. I still remember the instructions we all had to be on the lookout for Soviet and East European diplomatic plates, so we could report the possible spies to the military police. Ken's son is now serving, but so far he is safely in Edmonton.
Today, it seems more likely that non-soldiers are targets. My friend Glyn was the first person killed by enemy action in Afghanistan (ie not through friendly fire or an accident). He was a diplomat. My friend Doug was killed in the Haiti earthquake - hewas there on his 3rd peacekeeping mission, this time as head of all the UN police. Acquaintances Louis and Robert were held captive by Al Qaida in the Maghreb for four months, while trying to negotiate a peace deal in Niger. I didn't know the young Canadian diplomat who lost both her legs in the same bombing that killed the Canadian journalist; she was in her mid-twenties, and - judging by her name - may have broken all kinds of cultural stereotypes to do her work. She must have been very bright, as few make it into the foreign service much before the age of 30, and she was already serving abroad (usually something that happens only after at least two years at headquarters).
I'll also be thinking about Captain Nicola Goddard, the first Canadian woman soldier killed in combat. She was the daughter of peace activists, and apparently was a lovely person. I'm proud of her for chosing a path she believed in.
Lots of soldiers have put themselves in harm's way for their country, but this weekend, I will be taking a moment to remember the civilians and non-combattants who made sacrifices. And as I prepare to visit Sierra Leone in January, I'll be thinking about the civilians who get caught up and mutilated, raped, tortured and killed. They are the reason we fight today. We are blessed in Canada, because those things are not government opposition tactics here.