Posted on 07/14/2007 12:44:26 PM PDT by andrewwood
I was not there. My sister was, however, for she was returning to Toronto from her cottage, Sunday evening, and turned onto Highway 401, about the longitude of Trenton, Ont. By that chance, she found herself a half-mile ahead of the hearses for six of our Canadian boys, back from Afghanistan.
She reports there were firemen, with their trucks, saluting from almost every bridge along the way to Toronto, and people out, by their thousands, on the bridges and along the highway -- including veterans in full dress, grannies, moms, dads, babes -- and “youffs” even in red face-paint, wrapped in maple-leaf flags. (God bless them!) She let the convoy get ahead, towards the Don Valley Parkway, then doubled down to Bloor Street in Toronto to pay her own respects. There she saw, among many moving things, a little Muslim family waving Canadian flags. (God bless them!)
I forwarded this information, spontaneously and proudly, to a buddy of mine in Texas, who had several times forwarded to me streams of pictures from along Texas country roads, showing similar funeral processions. Huge numbers, saluting, holding their caps on their hearts, lifting the stars and stripes. I just wanted him to know that Texas doesn’t have a monopoly on that; to which end I appended these lines from a song I learned in childhood:
The Maple Leaf, our emblem dear, The Maple Leaf forever! God save our Queen, and Heaven bless The Maple Leaf forever!
Knowing full well, of course, that we live in times when very few of my countrymen might properly recognize these words (which have become “politically incorrect,” as the result of being purposely misconstrued as “imperialist,” and “anti-French”). And yet those people along the 401 did understand, the sentiment behind them. That we are a nation, and when they send our boys back from Afghanistan in boxes, it doesn’t matter what our politics are. We stand with them and for them, and we salute them, for they were our bravest and best.
Ghosts among that crowd. The living people who were signalling their respect, stood on Sunday, shoulder to shoulder with generations passed, and yet unborn. All the old lines came to mind, together with the faces of the old who once declaimed them:
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders Fields.
I see my grandpa up Vimy Ridge; I see my father in the cockpit of a Spitfire; I see my boys so young and strong; I muse at the ease of my own generation. And at my own luck, good or ill, in never having been called to the front, in the uniform of my country. Let us at least not fail to salute the sacrifices that were made by others, and that will have to be made, in time to come, should this nation continue to exist.
The grandfather in question once showed me a pillar, listing the names of old boys from his high school who fell as soldiers in the fields of France, together with those of several brave nursing sisters. So many decades had floated by, in the dream of his life, but what he said was: “Those are just names to a passer-by, but I can put a face to almost every one of them.”
Put a name to each, at least, and not a number.
I am outraged by the numbers game that is played in our mainstream media, and by the political opponents of our Afghan mission. I am outraged by the affectation of remorse, from people who never wanted any soldier sent on any mission to any field. I am appalled by those reporters who nosed through the crowds, fishing for anti-war soundbites. By the newspaper headlines that shriek grief, when we never saw, so prominently displayed, a single article in which the achievements of our soldiers in Afghanistan were mentioned. Such reporting presents our soldiers’ lives as wasted. The drumbeat of casualty numbers gnaws at our will to victory.
Far, far more people die on our streets, in auto wrecks each year, and there is no media drumbeat about this. Yet that is pure waste! Each year, about a hundred thousand unborn children die on the altar of “a woman’s right to choose,” yet there is no drumbeat. And the families of our fallen soldiers are afflicted with “how do you feel” questions, and the gall of false sympathies, from reporters they know perfectly well are using the death of their beloved to pump out a message that desecrates his memory.
That fallen soldier did not break faith, but walked through Calvary. And we, the living, must not break faith, but assure the victory of the cause for which he died.
Excellent article. Thanks for posting it!
Any chance you could post some pics?
Sorry, the article didn’t come with pictures, and I wasnt there( I live in Victoria) If anyone has pictures to post, that would be great
My pleasure, I found it very moving.
There she saw, among many moving things, a little Muslim family waving Canadian flags. (God bless them!)
THE MESOPOTAMIAN
TO BRING ONE MORE IRAQI VOICE OF THE SILENT MAJORITY TO THE ATTENTION OF THE WORLD
http://messopotamian.blogspot.com/
Sunday, July 01, 2007
CANADA DAY
Hi,
I consider it a good omen that my arrival to Canada coincided just before “Canada Day”, the birthday of this country; because for me and my family it is also a kind of rebirth into a new life and a new country. Now, the country of your birth is an accident that is not of your choosing; but a country that you have chosen of your own free will and that has accepted you for citizenship for your own worth, when it had no obligation whatsoever towards you, and I have not come in as a refugee nor am I a wealthy man; such a country is perhaps more deserving of allegiance. But of course, I have been long enough in this world to realise that nowhere is everything perfect, nor all people are the same. I can expect disappointments and difficulties but that changes nothing. The worst bigot that I may expect to encounter here cannot be considered but a mild case of bad temper compared to the throat slitting eye gorging hate filled types that have come to infest our poor Mesopotamia and the whole region around it. What do I have in common with these latter types? They are more foreign and repugnant to me than any monsters descended from outer space perhaps.
As I am watching the firework displays I can feel the stirring of the first feelings of belonging and affection for the new home. I pray to God who has brought me here to help me settle and succeed to become a good citizen of this land. Home is where you are made to feel at home. So on this day I want to extend my congratulations to all Canadians and above all to say:
“Thank you Canada”
Thank you for posting this beautiful tribute. It is so easy to forget with the din of the politicians these days.
Your essay brought me right back to where I need to be today.
I have been using that very quote from ‘In Flanders Fields’ as my tagline for some time now. One of the greatest poems ever in the war genre, and it was written by a Canadian who died in WWI.
The signature block says it all.
Garde la Foi, mes amis! Nous nous sommes les sauveurs de la République! Maintenant et Toujours!
(Keep the Faith, my friends! We are the saviors of the Republic! Now and Forever!)
LonePalm, le Républicain du verre cassé (The Broken Glass Republican)
I agree, this is the best thing Warren has written for quite a while. Personally, I like the website title” if ye break faith”. If you add “david warren” to your posting title, then it will come up when I search it before I post, although in this case, I’m glad you didn’t, because some more people got to see it when I posted it again.
It might cheer you up to know that the article got very good reception at free dominion,where I also posted it,in fact the site administrator re-posted it on the front page of the site, where I think it still is.
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