We Remember, Near and Far

November 11, 2013 in Hamilton Bermuda.  I am sure a few people are wondering, so I will say that yes, Remembrance Day is observed in Bermuda.  Despite being a small country, Bermuda has been as involved as it can be in the wars of the past.  In the First World War, in 1915, it was Bermuda who sent the first unit of volunteers from the Colonies to the Front Line.  Bermuda sent troops in the Second World War as well -- and although it is a small country with a small population, per capita Bermuda had more people in uniform than anywhere else in the British Empire.  I think that said that Bermuda offered all that it could. There are almost 3000 Bermudians named on this monument for their service in World War I and II.


The Bermuda War Memorial

Bermuda has also played a role as a prized naval base as far back as the American War of Independence.  In World War II there was a sizeable US military operation in Bermuda -- functioning as mail screeners, translators, and code breakers.  After world War II and up to 1995 there was both a Canadian and US Military base on the island.  Bermudians are still conscripted for a period of 2 years into military service, and many Bermudian families have loved ones who moved to Canada or the US and actively serve and served in the campaigns of these larger countries.  So today I stand on foreign ground on this little rock but share a sentiment common to us all.

Remembrance Day.  From early childhood the significance of November 11 is taught in our schools.  In the weeks leading up to Remembrance Day our teachers focused on the History lesson and wove November 11 into the Art and English curriculum as well.   We were taught to donate for a poppy and to wear it as a symbol of pride and respect.  Through our childhood poems and drawings, we tried to understand a lesson of humanity far beyond our capacity.  We learned to respect veterans.  To remember that they gave their lives for our freedom.  On November 11 we would put on our winter jackets and boots and walk the short distance from the school to the Legion to observe the parade of veterans, to bow our heads in silence, and witness the laying of the wreaths.

The Cenotaph in Bermuda

Neither my Uncle nor my Grandfather ever participated in one of those parades that I knew of...but I knew they had been a part of "the war."  My Grandfather, Frank Monette, was a pilot in World War II.  A photo of him in uniform hung in his house the rest of his life, and one of the few details I know is that he was involved in an escort flight for Winston Churchill.  My grandfather returned home, continued to farm, and raise his family.  My great uncle, Lloyd Elliott, was an infantryman sent to Italy and Africa, and returned home only after losing a leg.  He never displayed his medals, never married, never again fit social norms, and as I understand it, scared a few people.  Today we are familiar with post traumatic stress disorder.  50 years ago they called him crazy and society didn't give him many chances.  I won't say that I am always the best judge of character, but when I was little my so called crazy uncle was one of my favorite people.  I noticed that he preferred to sit off by himself and mutter away while the rest of the family engaged in lively banter after dinner...but I also noticed that he was always happy to see us, to share a meal, that he always patted me on the head on the way past or acknowledged me even though i was the littlest and "runt of the litter" at that time (hard as that is to believe now).  He continued to farm, and now that I am an aunt, I can tell how very deeply he loved my siblings and I even though he didn't have children of his own.  He gave us wonderful gifts, but more importantly, he sat up in his chair and dismissed the ghosts around him when we walked in the room to ask us about things that might be important to a child -- what did you learn at school today, what books are in that bookbag today?  I knew he had a kinder soul than the people who had shut him out, and I knew he had to be a hero because he went to war.  They do say children see things more clearly than adults sometimes.  Both men have been gone now many years.  I never knew either of them beyond my childhood.  But now as an adult I see what some of those missing pieces were that I sensed as a child.  We focused on the veterans in front of us, and tried to show them through our presence and with our humble words and drawings that we thought they were brave, and strong, and that we were very proud of them for fighting in that war...and maybe the one before it too.  We tried to show that we were sorry that many soldiers had died.  What we could not understand at that age was that beyond the people in front of us, there were many more who had survived but lost themselves...maybe their faith, maybe their confidence, maybe a limb, a livelihood, a future.  They didn't teach us in school that the survivors must have nightmares, and that coming home did not magically restore them to the person they were or the life they had.  They did not try to teach us about the grief a generation of parents, widows, and fatherless children were experiencing.

I continued the ritual throughout high school, but once out in the world I found that observing silence was all that I did.  I regret that today.  And it changed after 9/11.  There is a military base in Edmonton -- home to the PPCLI, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry's 1st and 3rd Battalions.  When I became immersed in the sport of skydiving, I met many like minded souls who were currently in the military.  In support of them, I found myself at a much larger Remembrance Day Ceremony in Edmonton that I had ever seen in my small Saskatchewan hometown.  Friends like Ian had served in Germany and Cypress.  My boyfriend at that time had served in Bosnia.  John and John had both retired but looked always the solider.  Phil, aka Major Dad.  My uncle Al.  Over the years, friends were deployed to Afghanistan, returned home, and often went back...and back.  Jim, Glen, Jean, Steve, Dean, Chris Thombs, Chris K, Keith, and Billy to name a few.  A friend's brother in law was severely wounded.  The former boyfriend, Chris K, didn't come back.  In those years there was a noticeable shift in the service.  Not only did the crowds get larger, the crowds got younger.  In the services of my childhood, it was school children and seniors who made of up the majority of the crowd.  Now I noticed the bulk of the crowd were in their 20's and 30's, although all ages were represented.  The next year a colleague's husband didn't come back.

Today I remember that war has touched generations of all of our lives.  That there has been an unquantifiable loss, and that grief persists so long as one person who loved and lost someone still stands amongst us.  I see that as child my perceptions were too simple.  I thought the sacrifice was attached to the soldiers who went to war and died.  I didn't understand enough about the surviving veterans and how much it would cost one's soul to bear witness to such violence and horror.

Respect is due to the families who still grieve.  I am grateful to the soldiers of the past, and each of my military friends who have proudly represented Canada overseas...and I am even more grateful that you have come home.  Thank you for it all.  I hope we take today to remember and pay our respects, to brave the weather and show support through our physical presence -- and that tomorrow or very soon after that we let our government know that we support continued funding for veteran affairs services.  I will keep my candle burning again today, the white one representing peace, spiritual strength, healing, protection, and unity.  I will remember.

This time capsule was sealed May 2013.  It contains diaries, memoirs, and service records of Bermuda's veterans.