Remembering our heroes’ sacrifices

Remembrance Day is a time to remember and give thanks to the brave men and women who fought to preserve the freedom we often take for granted.

We should always remember the 69,000 Canadians who gave their lives in the First World War during battles in such faraway places as Vimy Ridge, Mons, Passchendaele and Ypres.

We should never forget the 47,000 Canadians who perished during the Second World War at Normandy, North Atlantic and many other battlefields.

And we must remember the Canadians who did not return home from Korea, Afghanistan, and assorted peacekeeping missions around the world.

On Remembrance Day I will remember my dad, Eddie Simpson. Dad was my hero, yet he was also a hero to many others, including England’s King George VI.

When dad passed, at age 87, mom gave me his Royal Air Force papers and medals. One yellowing paper stood out. It announced the awarding of the British Empire Medal.

On Buckingham Palace stationery was this typewritten note: “I greatly regret that I am unable to give you personally the award which you have so well earned. I now send it to you with my congratulations and my best wishes for your future happiness.” It was signed, in ink, “George R.”

Dad never mentioned this special medal, nor did he boast about any of his other decorations. And he never discussed his role in the war. He said he did only what he was asked, no more or no less than anyone else.

You can’t help but speculate what the future might have held for the many thousands of young men and women who did not come home to their families. What careers had been planned? What dreams went unfulfilled? Was one of them the scientist destined to find a cure for cancer? A brilliant artist? Gifted teacher? Record-setting athlete? Sadly, we will never know.

My uncle Carl was one of those youngsters whose future was full of promise. Upon graduation from Scotland’s Edinburgh University, he immediately enlisted in the Royal Air Force and trained for service in bomber squadrons, eventually becoming a flying officer.

In a tender and courageous letter to his parents, written on Sept.15, 1944, Carl provided an extraordinary insight into what the uncertainty of war was like for a young man. I would like to share with you his letter, word for word:

From F/O Cassini, C.W. Officers’ Mess

R.A.F. Station

Snaith

Nr. Goole

Yorks.

Darling Mum and Dad, I have decided to write this letter, which you will receive in the event of my being posted missing or killed on operations over enemy territory.

I must start off by saying, quite definitely, that I am not afraid to die. Like everyone else I think I feel scared when over the target, the excitement at that time usually nullifies the effect of fear.

I have no illusions or heroics about death; if I should be killed on operations it will be when I am engaged in the duty of killing others – that is war – it is not a glamorous thing – it is just plainly an issue of one side employing all their resources to the elimination of the other side, hoping that they are not eliminated themselves.

It is a strange sensation when one realizes this over the target, thousands of feet above the earth. Flak is a terrifying thing – it usually seems much closer than it probably is. If death must come it will probably be very quick. Remember, I will not be afraid.

You will have wondered why I did not write to you so often. That is something I could only explain if I could talk to you. Please be satisfied that it was due to the fact of my particular job in this war.

This is a short statement, but if only you knew, you would understand how much it covers. It has always pained me to think that you might have assumed it to be neglect. Please believe what I have said. If, though I might be listed as missing, I return, you will hear the full story after the war.

Should I be taken prisoner, please write often. It will be the only sunshine in that dreary existence.

I have so much to thank you all for – all the great sacrifices you made to make my education possible. I shall be eternally grateful. I only hope that I am spared to live to repay you.

Now it only remains for me to ask God’s protection and blessing for you both and all my loved ones. Have faith in God always. Do not grieve for me. I am at peace with my heart.

All my love to you all, and if I am dead, goodbye, God bless you, and thanks for all you did.

Your ever-loving son,

Carl x

Three months after he wrote his heart-tugging letter, Carl was killed in action while on a mission over Belgium. He was just 22 years young.

Carl is at rest in the Leopoldsburg War Cemetery in Leopoldsburg, Limburg, Belgium, along with 781 other men and women from the Commonwealth, Poland and Holland.

Remember the choices we have the freedom to make today are due to the sacrifices of the brave men and women like my dad, my uncle Carl, or members of your family, friends or neighbours.

On Remembrance Day, take time to remember. And if you drive up to a stoplight beside a vehicle sporting a veteran licence plate, give the driver a wave and a smile. We owe them the world.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Parts of this column were previously published in the Chronicle Herald on Nov. 9, 2019.