Lest We Forget

Or, why we remember

It has been my experience that northern France in late October doesn’t have the best weather. Like Canada in the fall, days are short, cool and often rainy. Perfect weather for a battlefield walkabout.

My Dad, husband and I visited the Vimy Memorial, just north of Arras, France, on an atmospheric day: rainy, cold and muddy, with the fog and mist regularly replacing each other in prominence. A perfect day for remembering the horrors of this war on this particular site.

There are several parts of the Canadian National Vimy Memorial: an interpretive centre, the trenches, the various graveyards of soldiers, walking trails, and the white limestone memorial itself, whose two pylons reach up into the sky and the vacant eyes of the resident statues haunt the soul.

“The two large pylons represent Canada and France – two nations united in the common goal of peace and freedom. This majestic monument is a lasting tribute to the sacrifices Canadians made in the First World War. Its design inspires a deep sense of obligation to never forget those who died so that we may secure a better life.” The Canadian National Vimy Memorial 

Our driver dropped us off at the interpretive centre where we met our guide, Daniel, a university student from our hometown, Ottawa, Ontario. Only the three of us stepped out with him into the sad rainy day, ready to take a walk through history. The memorial site was quiet, not a bird sang; there wasn’t a breath of wind.

Canada has done a marvellous job on this Canadian World War One memorial – the trenches silently snake around the undulating field; concrete “sandbags” giving one the feeling of walking through the warren where these men fought and died so long ago. Canadian ingenuity is on display with ladders placed on the floor of the trenches, also replicated in concrete. These ladders kept the soldiers out of the mud, and with an extra pair of socks given to them as part of their kit, a major killer of soldiers, trench foot, was denied more men. Commonwealth soldiers had been dying in droves from trench foot prior to these adjustments in treatment and gear. Daniel told us that more soldiers died from trench foot between 1914-1917 than were killed in the fighting in that same period. Canadian leaders led the way forward for better health in those perilous times. Now, you just had to avoid bullets and bayonets, tanks and artillery.

The killing fields of Vimy Ridge, set in time, offering us an opportunity to remember.

The fields were green on that day. So very green. I found it hard to believe it was a war zone 100+ years ago. Against the slate grey of the sky, I really got the feeling of what it must have been like for these soldiers on that field, so far away from home. Loneliness and cold pierced my raincoat, my heart was heavy as my feet marched along the pathway.

We walked through the mist, tracing the steps of our forefathers through the trenches, taking care to pause and feel into the place and the memory of what we know happened there. Standing on tiptoe, I peered over the top of the trenches to gaze toward the German side, safe in the peace of my time but knowing this was a perilous act in those days of war.

I have often heard that this war was pivotal for Canada. It was the first time our country fought under our own leadership, Canadian not British. It is seen as a coming of age for what was then a young country. 650,000 men and women served in WWI, and around 425,000 were sent overseas to fight. 66,000 died and most were buried where they fell. So far from home. All from a country of only 8 million souls, on the far side of the Atlantic Ocean.

I remember the site was green, the trees not yet turning as it was early in fall. All the trees around were transplanted from Canada – maples and evergreen most prominent. A handsome building houses displays where you can explore the history of the site, and computers where you can search through national archives and the now public WWI records for family members who served here and elsewhere in this long-ago war.

My father looked up his father’s war record and I was tasked to find a distant Indigenous cousin of mine from my mother’s side. Turns out my grandfather, Williard Francis Chapman signed up even though he was only 17 and underage. He got found out and was held back from serving until he turned 19. Ultimately, he was sent to France and served there for just over a year before the war ended and he came home. I understand he was bayonetted in the throat, and possibly gassed, but these are now just stories shared in my extended family.

As for my long-lost cousin, he remains long and lost. He was killed in action on September 15, 1916. He was 37 years old. His body was never found which is why I did find his name on the Vimy Memorial itself, where 11,285 names of such Canadian men are written. I got choked up when I found it. G T MacBean, carved in the limestone and forever overlooking the aged fields of battle. So many men lost. Those remembered here are but a handful of the 8.5 million people that died in what we now call “The Great War.”

Back in my home, in the True North Strong and Free, those wars and the ones that followed, seem so distant. The lessons of them have faded into past collective memory, and I wonder why we remember these men and these wars anymore. Where is the relevance for my sons, in the feats of their great, great grandfathers?

I suppose the meaning is not in the feats themselves, but in the peace we’ve flourished in over this past century. Speaking as a Canadian, WWI truly was a turning point for us as a nation. Canada was not quite 50 years old in 1914 when war was declared. Our Constitution was still held in Britian (it wasn’t repatriated until 1982). Our declaration of war, like any teenage declaration, was a statement of independence but reflected our ignorance and the recklessness of youth, an attempt to stand up and be counted without really knowing what that would mean.

And as we did it, we did it in a Canadian way. We valued our troops more – Daniel told us they were better paid than the British soldiers, their kit was better and our leaders paid attention to their health (remember the ladders and the socks?). I see parallels between this and our universal health care that came into being later in the 20^th century.

It’s important to note that we failed too, and greatly. The battle of Passchendaele is a good example of that as are the killing fields at Beaumont-Hamel that so devastated the troops from the then country of Newfoundland.

I think remembering includes more than just the wars and the battles and the lost souls – men, women, dogs, birds and horses, all lost. Pride, integrity and other values too. Lost. Honouring their loss matters, but it’s more than that now, 106 years later. It’s a reminder of what a horror it is to fight. I felt that lesson standing in the trenches both at Vimy and at the memorial at Beaumont-Hamel.

Remembering our wars reminds me of what is possible when we all work together for peace. Peace brings security, security makes the space for ingenuity and progress. That we do know for a fact. We’ve lived it. All of this takes time, intention, and effort, and that is the second reason that lands for me in this writing.

And as our world today convulses, tribal attitudes resurface, and big powers begin to feel the friction of conflicting goals leading to discord, I think it’s important to remember our recent past. And know there is another way.

That’s why I remember. And that’s what I hope my sons have learned.

Nov 11 is marked each year with public ceremonies and poppies worn on lapels. Sold by the Canadian Legion, this year they have offered new options, including this one celebrating Indigenous veterans. I have several great-uncles on my mother’s side, Indigenous men, who fought for Canada. I’m grateful for the opportunity to remember them, too.