For no real reason, this year we decided to go to the Loyal Edmonton Regiment Military Museum, at the Prince of Wales Armories. Despite driving past it a number of times while the girls attended Victoria School next door, I had never crossed the threshold until this past Saturday.
It's a gorgeous building which I wish we'd had more time to explore, especially the museum. We did get a few minutes to check out one of the galleries before we were all summoned to the lectern at one corner for the brief ceremony.
We went to the Butterdome one year and heard the Lt. Gov., we could have gone to City Hal and heard an address from the mayor or the garrison commander, but this year we were at a tiny museum with 50-60 people and no speakers we knew or recognized. We weren't familiar with the Legion officer who officiated, nor the lady who sang the national anthem, and that was just fine. The address, though brief, was heartfelt and earnest, but seeing the museum exhibits from the First World War made the whole experience that much more memorable.
The day before, Audrey and I had read an account in the Edmonton Journal of the life of Cecil Kinross, a Victoria Cross winner from Lougheed Alberta who had fought with the 49th Battalion of the 'Loyal Eddies'. It's a tale of high highs and low lows, like so many. Kinross had single-handedly charged over open ground a German machine gun nest at Passchendaele, killing six enemy combatants. He destroyed the gun and kept fighting until his wounds made continuing impossible, earning Britain's highest award for military valour as a result.
Later on, a British soldier recognized his face in a London pub and drew back Kinross's greatcoat, revealing the bronze decoration. The Canadian found his money was suddenly no longer accepted at the establishment.
But the one surety of war is that it consumes, ofttimes condemning those it does not outright destroy, and like so many, Kinross was a troubled man after the war. He eventually was forced to sell his farm and moved into a small hotel in town, becoming a familiar patron at the tavern. The quiet man would become argumentative and demonstrative when drunk, one winter going so far as to remove his shirt and dive into the river one winter. It's not as tragic a tale as many, but still a bitter end for a man who displayed such heroism, and from fairly close to home.
So I was astonished to see the miniature versions of his decorations, including his VC, on display at the museum.
The medals were in a case close to a poster another 49er had carried all the way back from Belgium after the war.
The poster announces the liberation of the city of Mons, Belgium; a liberation later credited to the American army.
After 4 years of occupation, the city returned to a semblance of normalcy and long term prosperity, even after being heavily bombed in the war that followed the War to End All Wars. Still, one has to assume that things could never be precisely the same afterwards, like Kinross. War consumes.
The debate about how to honour the sacrifices of those who served without seeming to glorify war. is unlikely to subside anytime soon, but perhaps one way to avoid jingoism and dangerous brands of nationalism is to focus on the cost of our wars, and not just in lives lost, but those tragically reshaped by maimings or PTSD, or a simple inability to relate to people outside the battlefield.
When the Remembrance service was complete and the crowd began to disperse, I made a point of walking past a young family: a couple in their 20s, with a boy no more than five or six, and a young girl under three. The children had a hard time remaining patient, the girl in particular; after all, she was far too young to understand either the occasion or the somber mood, and only knew that two minutes is an impossible time to remain still, let alone silent.
On my way past, I caught the dad's attention, and the mum looked up too as I said, "Listen, at this age it is so tempting to just let them sleep in, but I'm really glad you made the effort to come today, and I'm really glad you brought them."
They beamed at me thankfully, but it's true; it is important we remember, publicly, and that we demonstrate our commitment to these observances to those too young yet to understand them.
It is unlikely we will ever run out of wars, police actions or peacekeeping missions to sacrifice Canadians to in our ironic pursuit of a more stable world filled with lasting peace, but still - lest we forget.
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