My first memory of Remembrance Day was at an assembly in 2001. I stood in a line against the wall of our gymnasium, along with other kids in my grade six choir, holding a small candle and singing “One Little Candle”:
“If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle
What a bright world this would be”
Then we soaked in “In Flanders Fields, where poppies blow, between the crosses, row on row....”, John McCrae’s famous war-time lament.
It was important that we were taught to remember the deaths and the lives of those who fought in wars. We were taught to appreciate their sacrifices that allowed us to live safely in our country today.
November 11th, known as Remembrance Day in Commonwealth countries, is celebrated on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month every year. Originally known as Armistice Day, honouring the end of devastating WWI in 1918, on this day we now come together to remember those who served in the first world war the second world war, and beyond. Thanking those who fought, and currently fight, so that we can be ‘free’.
While I grew up understanding that Canadians had died in the pursuit of peace, I also internalised the sense that we were the force of good, and that we’d triumphed over evil.
Unfortunately, at some point in my life, things got more complicated when I had to grapple with having family on both sides of World War II. Many of my family came from Germany and German-speaking Poland. Many of them after World War II.
When veterans stood in our gymnasium on Remembrance day, I saw men that fought with my one grandfather… against my other grandfather.
While my one grandfather served in the Canadian Military during WWII, my other grandfather was, at the same time, a member of the Nazi German Military, along with many of his relatives. Recently I also learned that the Polish Army of the earlier WWI contained one of my relatives, which was definitely not on the ‘right’ side as I should understand it.
How do I face these facts on a day like Remembrance Day?
Do I remember my one Grandfather’s involvement with the ‘good’ side, and ignore the experiences of my family that were on the ‘bad’ side?
If soldiers hadn’t continued killing men like my grandfather, I would not have freedom and peace today.
My grandfather, who held me gently in his arms after I was born, bought me Christmas gifts, attended weddings, thanked God every day for the food on his plate and the safety of his family--was on the ‘wrong’ side with a gun.
Canadians and other Allied forces died in these wars. So did many of my family who were in Germany and Poland, part of the Axis and Central Powers. I would like to mourn both, but am I allowed on Remembrance Day?
The reality is that everyone involved in WWI and WWII suffered from the effects to some degree. The ‘good’ guys, the ‘bad’ guys, and every person stuck in that time. It is not an Indiana Jones movie or a battle-glorifying video game, where the enemy has been stripped of humanity and no longer garners compassion.
Real war is real pain for so many. Good and bad sides. Also, evil is evil not just because it creates victims, but also because it also creates perpetrators of more evil. Both good and bad sides became killers of their fellow humans because of these wars.
Canadians had to keep fighting for the end of this disastrous reality. As soon as it did end, they were free to choose peace instead. It gave them that chance.
As well, their triumphs also allowed my German and Polish relatives the option of peace, which they used to move to Canada. The end of these wars brought both sides an offer of freedom from killing.
I am so grateful that the Allied Forces fought to put an end to both WWI and WWII so that we could have peace in Canada.
But, I am also grateful that they offered my other relatives, who were the ‘bad guys’, the opportunity of peace.
Today I remember WWI and WWII veterans, for the freedom they offered both sides of my family.
Every Remembrance Day, I am going to thank God that these wars ended, and express gratitude to those who stopped them.
The stories and photos that I’ve included from my family below were real people with real pain, and I wish each of them never had to touch wartime. I wish none of them were involved in the war against their fellow humans.
Each person in a war is a human to me, and I am grateful for anyone who fought so that their fellow humans could have peace.
“If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle
What a bright world this would be”
My maternal grandmother was trying to live a peaceful life in what was called “East Prussia” at the time of WWII. The Russians, who were waging war on the power of Germany, were coming her way and my grandmother’s family had to flee. They were German speakers in the wrong place at the wrong time. While fleeing, their train was under fire from Russian fighter pilots. Shots riddled the train-car my grandmother was on, and she watched as her mother was hit and bled to death. I only learned about this through my own mother later in my life as my grandparents did not wish to relive the war if they could avoid it.
My Grandmother on a boat coming to Canada after the war
My grandfather, who my grandmother had yet to meet until they came to Canada, was German, and of an age that demanded he join the army. I don’t know my grandfather’s feelings towards Nazis while they rose to power, but I do know that he did not enjoy being in the German Forces. Knowing him, I would assume that he was probably swept up into the army like thousands of other men. Unsure, maybe disagreeing, maybe seeing some truth in the government's convictions, but ultimately fearing the deathly repercussions of even contemplating refusal to be in the war.
My grandfather was lucky to have poor eyesight, as it prevented him from being in some regular duties. He was a telephone line runner, ensuring communication between groups. I believe he still had to kill others while he on duty, but very infrequently, and only if necessary for his survival--it was not something he wanted to do. I hate that he had to do this, and I wish his life had never had to touch on this trauma.
My Grandfather in his German Army uniform
My Grandfather at the top, while in the army.
Both my grandmother and my grandfather came to Canada after surviving WWII, and chose not to speak of it to their grandchildren. Due to the war experience, my grandfather was very quiet, and didn’t talk much about his past, and my grandmother had some anxiety and health struggles, but overall they were very happy with their safety, their quiet lives, and the peace that they found in a new country. I grew up knowing a quiet couple that treasured me and my brother, and liked things peaceful around the home. Both my grandparents passed away in my early 20’s.
My Grandmother and Grandfather, married in Canada
My paternal grandfather was in the Canadian Forces but never had to land in Europe. However, knowing who he was, I believe the threat of one day being required to kill another person would have weighed heavily on him. I was 5 when he passed away, but I continue to hear stories about the respect he had in his Vancouver community, his kindness to others, and his deeply held convictions to follow Jesus. I am sad I didn’t really get to know him, and so I treasure the scrapbooks that my grandmother made for her grandkids with photos and stories of our family.
His wife, my now 91 year old grandma, the matriarch of our family, was born and raised in Vancouver, but her mother and father moved here from Poland. It is her father that served in the Polish Army during WWI. My grandma said her father moved here after that war because he was not enjoying being in Poland, where land was constantly being fought over by German, Russian, and Polish governments. He found it very unsettling and wished for a happier, safer, and better life. He came to Canada and met my great grandmother here, being married only 5 days after meeting each other. My great-grandmother had been living in Warsaw, Poland, and had come to Canada on her own, also leaving behind the constantly stressed country of her birth.
