You’re in the army now

When you graduated from high school a year and a half ago, it was already established – you were headed for the Army. Not the Reserves, like your Dad and our Dad before him, but the Reg Forces – a fulltime job in the military.

I have to admit, as your Auntie and godmum, there was part of me that was worried. Worried about you heading straight off into that career without an opportunity to experience a bit more of something else in the world – another trade or educational experience to round out your worldview and knowledge before the Army. Yet, you have always, since day one, had this way with an openness towards people. Even with your jokester attitude, I’ve never heard of you intentionally being mean to someone. You’ve always had kindness in you. Always.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I was afraid too.

Afraid of stories I’ve heard about treatment of people within the Army and by the Army. Even if we grew up with a Dad so dedicated to his Regiment (the Sherbrooke Hussars), within the ranks there are stories that go against so much of what I believe in, and that certainly kept me away from that path myself, in part for my own safety. That actually makes me sad to think about. I know women who have made their lives in the Army and have managed to build impressive careers, but there is a part of me that would have never fallen in line, and I know that.

I think I’ve taken the things we learned from our Dad’s Army ways and I’ve put it into my youth leadership work though – about order and respect, about some kinds of ritual and decorum, just in a very different world.

There are many people I’ve known that did explore military life and training, and I think in particular even of our Uncle Mitch, who has a blue beret to remember his time in Cyprus. Heck, he would never have met our Auntie Debbie if it weren’t for my father assigning him a Christmas Mess Dinner date. The RSM’S sister-in-law – NO PRESSURE. But then, he married her, and had the very best wedding day ever, the same day as the Live Aid concert, on July 13th, 1985. So, we know that the Army also creates bonds and connections, friendships and relationships that often last a lifetime.

I hope that as a country we begin to understand how to best support our military members who suffer. Support and rehabilitation should always be included in the agreement when someone enlists.

I hope that you are able to navigate both growing as a man and being proud of your career, and to still be open to voices outside of that world, that you are able to both be a part of the long, beloved and respected history of the military in our family – your many, many great-uncles who fought in both Great Wars, and great-aunts who participated as well too. I love that I have our great-auntie Barbara’s trunk from her time in service.

In this day and age, it’s a different world than when they enlisted, yet the pride we have in your accomplishments for following through on your recruit course and graduating from the Royal Canadian Armoured Corps School in late October is the same. The same as the photos of our family members in uniform with those they were leaving behind.

I hope that this incredible adventure leads to you to opportunities for personal growth, for learning about the world, for developing all of the skills you wish to in this great life. I hope that, like all of the families with loved ones in the military; that wherever this career takes you, you are safe, whole, happy, supported by your corps.

I know that Armistice is about remembering, about respect and acknowledgement of those who went before. But here you are, the same age as they all were once upon a time, and it feels like time is a bit of a slippery thing.

Seventy-five years after the end of World War II, you take the same path that they did, Armoured, like your Dad and grandfather. A tradition continues, and our family’s love for one another continues. I know that you will have a positive impact on those around you as you train and learn, developing your skills constantly. You’re hard-working and will likely have many who know that they can rely on you to be a steady presence.

While I will always worry about you anyway (this is just the way it goes, kid, you were just plain old being born and we were all already concerned for your safety, it never stops), and I trust you. I trust your decisions and drive. I trust you to use your head (that was one of the best bits of advice our Dad used to give – to lightly tap us on the forehead and say, ‘USE.THIS.’), I trust you to understand that there are other ways of being in the world than the ones we’re used to. I believe in you, and am so beyond proud of you.

You’re a solider. For real. It feels strange to write that, and really take it in for the first time.

May this career enrich your life. Always know that you’ve got a fan over here. You may be the Maverick, but your Auntie is the renegade. I’ll always be here for you.

While we remember those who fought, those we lost, those we miss but never knew, I think of you today too, brand new in this role, with the world at your feet. I know they’ll be firmly laced up into polished boots, and ready to step up.