I recently discovered the text of a speech my dad gave at the Remembrance Day service in Tumbler Ridge BC in 2004.
Dad was a bomber pilot in World War II. He was a kid when he signed up. He said he "lucked out" by getting to fly. Lucky to be chosen to fly a Lancaster? The real "luck" was that he and his aircrew survived. Most didn't. But he was lucky. He believed he was lucky. Lucky to be born into a loving family. Lucky to find good, lifelong friends in his aircrew. Lucky to get an education and a job he he was good at. Lucky to find love ,lucky to have children and grandchildren, lucky to be Canadian. And I know I was lucky to have him as my dad.
Dad didn't like to be called a hero. But he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. His citation reads that he "invariably displayed the utmost fortitude, courage, and devotion to duty". He says he wasn't a hero. Not a hero then never was a hero. He was wrong about that too. He was my hero.
Remembrance Day 2004
My message is for anyone less than 80 years old. Those of you just a bit older listen and suggest corrections if you want.
Why are you here today? Your reasons are your own, but I thank you for being here and for permitting me to have your attention for a few minutes.
Just after the schools across Canada had reopened in 1939, this country declared war against Germany.
In 1914 Canada joined with other countries declaring war against Germany in was then called the War to end all wars. In 1939 that war was to be called the War to end all Wars again.
Think about it for a few seconds:
I was still in school in Vancouver at the time, but when I was still just seventeen years old I was given training to learn something about fixing planes so that, when I was eighteen I could join the airforce and start fixing them. In 1941 I did just that.
By then I found that I could be taught to fly aircraft and I was lucky enough to start training as a pilot so instead of fixing the planes I could fly them.
By 1945 I was returned to civilian life because that war was over. I was twenty two years old and had returned safely from what was, for my mother, an awful awful time for her to have been waiting for one son, in the Airforce, one in the Navy one in the Army to get out of uniform and return home.
One aunt had embarrassed me no end by introducing me to her friends as a hero! Never was one, and never ever wanted to be one, but what could I do to correct her viewpoint? I do believe there were people who could properly be called heroes, and there still are, but I was never one.
What we were told to do, we did, and I lucked out by getting to fly and to find really fine people to fly with. Yes we did have an enemy to fight, and when the invasion took place in Europe, we were in Bomber Command and flew to France just a few hours before the ground forces arrived from England to get the invasion underway.
However, this is 2004, not 1944, and you are here in this lively and exciting place we still call Canada. This is not the Canada recovering from a lengthy depression so long ago but we still have a neighbour country just South of us which still goes to war, so long after we went to war to end all wars, twice before.
If you are indeed Canadian, or believe in remembering your history, think about what is important to you and try to make wise decisions for yourselves.
Please, whether you are wearing a uniform, or not, our respect for you will be obtained by your actions as citizens in this ever increasing world of people of all faiths who genuinely are in love and charity to all.
Indeed, we need to remember the words of In Flanders Fields. Our cenotaph is a time for quiet reflection. Honour the dead and look to the future.
