Memories of war, behind enemy lines

Re: ‘I Think Of The Wear Dead Almost Every Day,’ letters to the editor, Nov. 12.

After reading all the remembrances from readers about Nov. 11, I felt I should let you know how I feel on that day. In 1944, I was 15 years old in Germany when I was drafted for home defence in the Luftwaffe (anti-aircraft artillery) along with 15% of my fellow Grade 9 students. My father was in the army and my 22-year-old brother was a fighter pilot in the Luftwaffe. His FW-190 crashed on his way home when a gas line was perforated during an American raid over Berlin. He bailed out at only 90 metres above ground (parachutes at that time required a minimum of 120 metres), hit a tree and was instantly killed.

Since arriving in Canada in the 1950s, I always felt that I should not wear a poppy. That changed after Canada participated in the Afghanistan war — this was now our war too. Canada was good to those of us who came from Germany and we were good to Canada. Most of us became citizens many decades ago. While Germany will always be our motherland Canada is now our fatherland.

On Monday, I had a very moving Remembrance Day experience. When the lifeguard in our community centre blew a whistle at 11 a.m., asked for a minute of silence and he played a suitable bagpipe recording over the intercom, you could hear a pin drop.

Juergen Kuehn, Ottawa.