Thinkaloud | if we break faith

Were their deaths worth it?

We have stood under leaden skies on November 11th and tried to swallow the huge lump in our throats as the time-honoured words sounded in our ears: “They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old.  Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn.”

We have seen veterans, now stiff with age, march with ramrod precision to the barked commands of yesteryear, click their heels and throw their salutes to comrades whose “failing hands” have thrown the torch.

Remembrance Day is a time when private grief is unlocked by the pomp of those who wish to honour their fallen comrades. At the cenotaphs youngsters shift from foot to foot and shiver in the cold wind as the names of the “glorious dead” are read, booming with electronic force out over the late autumn air.

The last wreath is laid, the final salute is given and then the bitter-sweet notes of The Last Post. And now the silence; the long, heavy, impatient silence.

Reveille now; time to wake up! Familiar hymns - O God, Our Help in Ages Past or Eternal Father, Strong to Save  - are sung with ragged enthusiasm; the prayers are said and now its off to the Legion.  Nothing like hot coffee on a cold day.

Now is the expansive time for fellowship, for stories and good memories and hearty laughter, as well as the inevitable sentimental songs.

But outside, as the dead leaves blow off the trees and swirl around the cenotaph, a woman stands absent-mindedly fingering a paper poppy and gazing for a last moment at the wreaths.

She is looking down the years and, with melancholy memory, she sees her man who didn’t come back from the war.  She touches the bit of yellowed newspaper in her pocket, the bit with his picture on it. The years melt away. Time is telescoped.  Her day of personal tragedy is no longer years old. It is present and powerful with longing for “what might have been, if only…”

Remembrance Day is a solemn occasion that should not be forgotten in the camaraderie of the Legion hall. This day is a reminder that in the midst of life we are not far from death.  And death is just as real for starving refugees in any of the world’s trouble spots as it was for the refugees of Europe 50 years ago. And it is just as real for our young soldiers who are dying on battlefields far from home, and for their loved ones.

Every year this day forces us to ask ourselves, if only for a moment, whether the sacrifices were worth it. Did the death of all the Johnnys and all the Marys, whose lives were snuffed out in the blaze of their youth, accomplish anything?

Despite all good intentions, peace is more elusive than it has ever been. In our hearts and minds lurk the same selfishness, the same greed, the same murderous impulses that moved the dictators.

Perhaps Remembrance Day should be known as Forgiveness Day. As we accept God’s forgiveness we are free to forgive others. Then this will indeed be a day to remember. Let us not break faith.

The writer is padre of a large Royal Canadian Legion branch in Winnipeg, Canada.

Writer: Lieut.-Colonel Maxwell Ryan is a former Editor in Chief in Canada and the UK. In retirement he is a copy editor of theRubicon and the author of theRubicon series called Resurrected Writers.

3 Comments to Thinkaloud | if we break faith

1. Beautiful piece. I agree with all of what you have written, with the proviso that if all those men and women had not given their lives there may have been no Jewish race, oppressed minorities, twisted experiments on humans and other horrifying outcomes as much of Western Europe found themselves under a Nazi reign.

   Even though I’m too young to have been alive during the war I bow my head in rememberance and honour those people, including their surviving loved ones, who gave so much so that we can live in relative freedom.
RobGT on November 9th, 2008

2. As Remembrance Day approaches, my thoughts go back to my first childhood hero - Grandpa MacDonald. He’s been dead for five years now, but growing up I remember his involvement with the Legion. Grandpa in many ways, was not what you’d call a ‘proud’ soldier. He didn’t want to buy a legion uniform (although he was a member); he didn’t talk much about life during the War and frequently downplayed his role in the war effort. “I was just a cook’s helper,” he’d explain. But when I myself joined the Canadian Military and came to understand our country’s rich military heritage, I came to appreciate that as a soldier in the Canadian Artillery, Grandpa was a lot more than just a cook’s helper. His participation in the Liberation of Holland and his final push across the Hitler line were more than just simple forays into enemy territory. His contribution to the war effort (despite his own attempt to downplay it) was significant to say the least.
   Why did he do it? Before conscription, Grandpa received in the mail a letter from the government asking him to volunteer his service. I imagine the effect those weighted and powerful words would have had on him: “For King and Country”. So he halted his life in Canada, said goodbye to my grandmother, and went. I think a lot about the question whether it was all worth it. Despite spending almost five years in the forces myself, I’m somewhat of a pacifist now. There’s nothing glorious about war, no matter how it’s portrayed in film. And on another level, engaging in war does seem to be in antheisis to the teachings of Christ’s Gospel. Yet I don’t take the extreme pacifist view that my friends in the Mennonite Church would. The scenario of WWII continues to haunt me. Would we truly be in line with Christ’s Gospel if no one stood up to Hitler? Can we allow such unadulterated evil to reign free in our world? If a crazed madman started killing people in the street (or on a bus - to use a horrible Manitoban example) we would expect a law enforcement officer to use leathal force to stop him from killing innocents. On some level, could this argument not be used against Hitler, and others like him?
   I don’t fully know the answer. But Remembrance Day is not the time to engage in such debates. On November 11th I’ll be wearing a poppy, attending a cenotaph service somewhere in the great outdoors of subzero Winnipeg. Why? To remember my grandpa; my friends currently serving in Afghanistan, and everyone else that served my beloved country. Thanks Max for allowing me to remember.
Rob Jeffery on November 9th, 2008

3. Beautiful piece.

   Just one thought to respond in part to Rob’s queries:

   Non-violence does not mean failing to stand up against evil. That is the one thing it cannot mean, the one option that is not allowed. It simply means choosing to stand up against evil in a different way, in a non-violent way, in a way that honours the humanity even of the person committing the violence (yes, even Hitler). It is just as dangerous and sacrificial as any violent act.

   Does it always “work”? No. Neither does violence. Most times we don’t know what will “work”, what will be the results of our actions. Non-violence says that we will choose not to commit the evil of violence in order to accomplish something that is good, because in so doing we would invariably destroy that which is good alongside that which is evil. Violence inevitably begets more violence.

   Non-violence dictates that we do not ignore evil, but that we engage it with our lives, our whole selves (just as with do with violent engagement), but that we do not hold onto the option of killing another human.

   Grace,

   Aaron
aaron on November 10th, 2008

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