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Lest We Forget: We convene a panel of veterans on the eve of Remembrance Day

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After graduating from university in 1987, I shouldered my backpack and went off to Europe. I didn’t realize it at the time of my departure, but these actions were a faint echo—and I mean the faintest echo—of an earlier moment in my family’s history.

My mother’s brother served in the First Survey Regiment of the Royal Canadian Artillery in the Second World War. He was killed on May 22, 1944 at Ortona, Italy.

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On my travels—unlike my uncle’s, mine was a leisure trip—I visited the Moro River Canadian War Cemetery where my uncle, Jack Vassar, is buried. I was 22 years old when I made the trip; Jack was 22 when he was killed. It was a surprisingly emotional visit, considering I had never met the man.

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After the death of her son, my grandmother continued to send care packages to one of Jack’s army buddies. After the war that man, Robert MacDonald, visited my grandparents to thank them. To make a long story short, he wound up marrying their daughter.

My visit to the grave had the effect of opening up communication with my grandmother as well as my uncle and aunt. They told me commonplace but affecting stories about my uncle—he liked to hide his cigarettes on top of the fridge—that also made me think about Remembrance Day in a different way.

Thirty years on, I think about these events still. In advance of Remembrance Day I sat down with eight men and women who have some experience in these matters at the Royal Canadian Legion Branch 285 (Centennial) on Horton Road S.W.

Amid the general hubbub of wing night, we began by talking about the importance of Remembrance Day in 2017.

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Robert Heath addresses the gathering. His wife, Bernice, is seated to his right.
Robert Heath addresses the gathering. His wife, Bernice, is seated to his right. Photo by Christina Ryan /Swerve

Norm Harvey: A few years ago over at Chinook Centre when they put in their (Remembrance Day) display for the first time, I was over there and thought, “This is beautiful, we’ve got to get some colours in here.” So we went and got our flags. People were a little bit more aware I think because there were six or seven Calgarians killed in Afghanistan.

The day before we did the service at Chinook, word came through that a young man on the security detail at Chinook had fallen. So, yeah, I think the public is a lot more aware. It’s sad that that’s what causes it, but I think they’re aware.

Tony Jewells: I agree with that. I noticed at Saturday’s launch (of the Poppy Campaign) at Chinook there were a lot of men in their early 30s. They’d come in support of Anita Bowes, our Silver Cross Mother whose son, Chad Horn, died in Afghanistan.

They were hanging in the back because those who have seen combat like to stick together. They were in the background but they were there in support of her, and I thought that was a very poignant moment.

Muriel Mymko: I remember when I first joined the militia in Winnipeg, the public really was not interested in the military. I remember hearing comments that we—the militia people— were the biggest welfare group in Canada.

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Tony: I connect to that. When I came to Canada in 1976 and joined the reserves in 1980, the military had quite a low profile. You’d been through that unification.

Tom Christie: Certain Prime Ministers were not supportive of the military—in fact, hated the military. Rumour has it.

Tony: It’s awful to say, but when young men start to be killed, the country often gets behind them. I’ve seen the profile of our military just continue to rise. It’s very unfortunate that they’ve seen the very best of Canada go out to the battlefield.

Linda Wright: You might want to know why these guys are in blue (referring to the blazers worn by Rick Wright and Bob Titus).

Swerve: Peacekeeping, I assume.

Linda: Right. Every year there is a ceremony in August—Peacekeepers Day—they honour every one of the people killed in peacekeeping operations. And when they read those names out they almost feel like they’re my kids because I’ve heard them so many times.

This is just my opinion, but since the body bags have stopped coming back to Canada, and since Calgary has very little military presence, the interest and the support have fallen.

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Bob Titus, warrant officer (rtd.) and president of the Calgary chapter of the Canadian Association of Veterans in United Nations Peacekeeping.
Bob Titus, warrant officer (rtd.) and president of the Calgary chapter of the Canadian Association of Veterans in United Nations Peacekeeping. Photo by Christina Ryan /Swerve

Bob Titus: Just before I joined the army, I worked at Weston Canada. And on November the 11th everything shut down. The conveyor belts shut down, people came out from where they were working and you did nothing for three minutes. And you could look outside and there was nothing moving.

Then it got to be, “It should be a holiday.” Well, I don’t think Remembrance Day should be a holiday because if it’s a holiday people stay home or go shopping.

Tony: There was a London policeman—central London—who on the 11th day of the 11th month at five minutes to 11 stepped out and stopped traffic for a minute. Nothing moved; central London was quiet.

Rick Wright: Can you imagine doing that now?

Tony: People wouldn’t even get out of their cars now.

Bob: Not even the cops. (to general laughter)

Rick: My dad fought in the Second World War—Sicily, Italy. He was wounded in Italy, evacuated back to Britain and ended the war in northwest Europe. I’m the result of the reunion.

I can remember as a kid—I’m from Montreal—going down to Dominion Square. The parade would form down by the CP Station and all the Montreal units would parade up Peel Street. All of the soldiers and officers wore hobnailed boots and you could hear the parade as they came up the hill to the square.

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When I graduated from “Charm school” (Royal Military College) in Kingston in 1969, it was after Paul Hellyer (Minister of National Defence) integrated and unified the Canadian Forces. I’d say from 1969-1973 the amount of public support was abysmally low and it got even lower.

It wasn’t until people started to come back in body bags and severely wounded from Bosnia and, after that, Afghanistan that the general population in Canada started to think that perhaps this idea of having a Canadian Forces was not a bad idea.

But even here in Calgary, which used to be a brigade domicile till they moved up north, you can run into people all over the place who have no idea that there’s military in Calgary. Most people in downtown Calgary, if you tell them you’re ex-military, they don’t have any idea there’s any military in Calgary. They don’t realize there are still 1,500 people in uniform in this city.

Linda Wright, major (rtd.) and her husband, Rick Wright, lieutenant-colonel (rtd.).
Linda Wright, major (rtd.) and her husband, Rick Wright, lieutenant-colonel (rtd.). Photo by Christina Ryan /Swerve

On Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Tom Christie: When you guys were peacekeeping, did some of your guys ever come down with PTSD?

Bob Titus: We’ve got a few.

Tom: What did they call it then?

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Linda Wright: They used to call it shell shock, and there’s another term, too . . .

Bob: . . . battle fatigue

Rick Wright: PTSD hasn’t been around that long. (It’s in the last) maybe 15 to 20 years where it has become the term of choice. In the First World War and the Second World War it was shell shock.

We didn’t get into too many battles peacekeeping. The Second Patricia’s did in Medak Pocket about 20 years ago now, I think, where they were fighting for their lives.

But peacekeeping was just that. It was peace keeping. Lately, in the former Republic of Yugoslavia, it became peace-making. And the reason Canadians initially went into Afghanistan was as part of a UN peacekeeping force, which is why the Canadians who have died in Afghanistan are on the Peacekeeping Wall.

Linda Wright: But from a medical standpoint, a lot of these people who suffered from whatever you want to call it—battle fatigue, shell shock—self-medicated. That gave the military a bad name, like they were all a bunch of drunks. Well, they weren’t. It’s just that, for some people, the only way to handle what they were going through was to self-medicate. And the easiest self-medication in those days was alcohol.

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Tom: I remember I was 13 or 14, growing up in Saint John, New Brunswick. My mother was part of the Legion, Branch 14. There was a DVA hospital 10 minutes away from us and she used to take candies and treats up there. And I would ask her about it. She said many of the gentlemen have shell shock. I asked, “What’s that?” And she said, “Their minds are gone. They have to be institutionalized.”

Rick: When you think about it, it took almost 100 years before the medical people could actually start to diagnose PTSD as a neurological problem.

Everyone remembers the movie Patton, when Patton struck that young private and called him a coward and all the rest of that good stuff. I think that was one of the best scenes ever shot because it all of a sudden woke up a lot of people. They asked, “did that really happen?” And of course it did, and they started to figure out why people suffered like that.

But it really wasn’t until the ’90s and the early 2000s that people really started to diagnose and try to figure out treatments for PTSD.

Tom: Earlier you said you were friends with Romeo Dallaire.

Rick: He was a classmate of mine. (At the Royal Military College.)

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Tom: Have you read his latest book on PTSD? It’s quite a good read.

Rick: Yes, I have.

Linda: Because he was a general and came out and said, “I have this problem. I’m suffering,” then people paid attention. If he had been a private who came out and said that . . .

Tom: He would probably have committed suicide a long time ago.

Norm Harvey: He tried.

Linda: He tried a number of times.

Tom: Yes he did. That’s right.

Tom Christie is a retired RCMP member who now works as a civilian with the force.
Tom Christie is a retired RCMP member who now works as a civilian with the force. Photo by Christina Ryan /Swerve

Comrades in Arms

Bob: I attended a veterans’ dinner here at the Legion. I sat beside a guy who was 92-years-old. He was merchant marine. He said, “You know, I got torpedoed three times—all in the same night.” They picked him up, that ship got torpedoed, he went in the water. They picked him up, that ship got torpedoed.

I said to him, “Boy oh boy, and you’re only 92?” But these are guys—merchant marines—who had to fight for recognition. People say, “All they did was ferry equipment across the sea.”

Norm: Sure, that was easy.

Bob: The longest battle of the Second World War was the Battle of the Atlantic. It started in 1939.

Tom: I remember on the East Coast, my mother telling me—my dad died when I was young—they would do blackouts.

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Rick: There were blackouts on the West Coast, too, once Japan got into it.

Bob: But once you’ve been a member—and I’m quite sure the RCMP and police forces are the same—you can go anywhere in the world and you will run into somebody you know or somebody who knows somebody you know. That’s a camaraderie that the civilian population does not have, and that’s probably the best thing about the military: they’re always there if you need help.

Linda: He (referring to Rick) went to Alaska once and ran into someone he knew.

Rick: Fairbanks.

Bob: For instance, Muriel was my clerk 30 some odd years ago.

Muriel: Yes, at the Calgary Highlanders.

Bob: She was only 14 at the time.

Muriel: Now there’s an officer and a gentleman.

Bob: Every year we hold the Queen’s Own reunion, and we get about 80 members out of about 2,500 who served here in Calgary.

I say to the reluctant ones, “Why don’t you come out to the reunions?” I tell them, “Listen, it’s even nice to see the guys you used to hate because they can’t do anything to you.”

Norm Harvey, sergeant (rtd.) and Muriel Mymko, RCAF sergeant (rtd.)
Norm Harvey, sergeant (rtd.) and Muriel Mymko, RCAF sergeant (rtd.) Photo by Christina Ryan /Swerve

On Their Service Time

Bob Titus: We had weapons that were 20 years old. When I joined the army we had deuce-and-a-halfs (2½ ton) and three-quarter-ton trucks that were older than I was.

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Muriel Mymko: That’s what I learned to drive on.

Bob: Then they turned around and got what were called “commercial pattern vehicles.” If you went into the woods, you came out with $500 of damage to the truck. And it rusted out.

Muriel: When I first went out on callout in Regina, it was during the Bay of Pigs. It was just after I arrived and I was working in the Provost office. And you knew something was going on in the world because I was told, “Keep that door shut.” And my boss actually showed me how to shoot a pistol—take it apart and clean it and everything. He said, “You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

I enjoyed my callout—needless to say. I worked in a bank before that, so it was very different.

Bob: We got to get out of this idea that you have soldiers and you have peacekeepers. Jesus, peacekeepers are soldiers. Just because I put on a blue jacket don’t mean I gave up my right to be a member of the Queen’s Own Rifles or the PPCLI.

But this is what people think. “Peacekeepers? Oh yeah, they stand on the corner and help old ladies across the street with their groceries.” We were trained as combat soldiers, same as everybody else, and our main job was to kill. We just happen to wear blue jackets.

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Tom Christie: Can you clarify something for me? I remember as a young man, there were rumours that the peacekeepers on some missions were only given eight bullets.

Bob: I went to Cyprus; they didn’t give me any.

Rick Wright: I would suggest that if it is true—and I doubt that it is—you were only given eight bullets just to give you a feeling that you can defend yourself.

Linda Wright: As a nurse, you had to qualify every year on a 9 mm. The only reason was to defend your patients. Because of the Geneva convention you’re not a (combatant). The only reason you have any kind of weapon—and you usually don’t even have them with you—is to protect your patients. You can die—it doesn’t matter—but you have to protect your patients.

Bob: When I was in Cyprus, one of my company commanders was Lewis MacKenzie—General MacKenzie. And he said, “If you run into problems on a Friday, don’t contact the UN because the UN closes at 5 and they don’t open until 8 a.m. on Monday.”

Norm Harvey: New York time.

Bob: Exactly. And as he said, “If you think war is hell, try peacekeeping.”

How many of you have ever been out to The Wall over in Garrison Green? They’ve got every peacekeeper who was killed in Korea after they signed the peace treaty all the way down to the last Canadian who was killed in Afghanistan—157 names. It’s quite a park.

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Rick: We do a Peacekeepers Day service on the Sunday closest to the ninth of August over at Peacekeeper Park and Buffalo Park. (The latter honours the nine people killed when their aircraft—Buffalo 461—was shot down in 1974 while entering Syria as part of a peacekeeping mission.)

I was in Egypt in 1974 and I spoke to the air crew and a couple of the people on that aircraft before they flew out. I was on my way to Suez to see my troops. I figured I put about 50,000 miles on my jeep because I had people in Suez, Alexandria, a couple of places in Israel and I brought a bunch of people back from the Golan Heights on one of my trips.

Tony Jewells, major (rtd.)
Tony Jewells, major (rtd.) Photo by Christina Ryan /Swerve

On the Importance of Education

Bob Titus: We used to have the UN gallery at the museum (The Military Museums). And I used to say to the kids—and the adults—”I’m going to give you three names and you tell me what they did by the time the tour is over. And I said they are John Osborn, Alvin Smith (Ernest Alvia Smith) and—oh, man, I can’t remember; I should be taken out and shot—and, oh!, Andrew Mynarski.

Not one tour that I took through there could tell me who those men were. They didn’t know they’d all won the Victoria Cross. For instance, John Osborn was the first. And Mynarski with the Air Force. And Alvin Smith, old Smokey Smith, with the old PIAT gun (anti-tank gun) in Italy.

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But people have no idea and I still say the biggest problem is that we don’t teach Canadian history.

Norm Harvey: We don’t. You have to find someone in uniform.

Muriel: It’s true. Most of the Canadian history I’ve learned has been from books. I read Vimy (by Pierre Berton). It is such a hard book to get through. Oh man, I really had a hard time with it.

Bob: I was reading a Canadian Legion magazine article on D-Day. And it said that they had found a Canadian soldier who was buried in a German cemetery. He’d been taken prisoner and the Germans had given him some clothes to wear. When he was killed they thought he was German so they buried him in a German cemetery.

So, there are holes over there with bodies still in. People say, “Oh, it’s a grave site, they should leave it.” Well, I don’t think they should. They’re entitled to a military funeral.

Linda Wright: I had four uncles who served in the Second World War, one of them is still in France. He was killed in Caen. And I recently discovered that I have a great-uncle who is also still in France, but they never recovered his body.

My cousin gave me a box. She said, “I have a medal; I don’t know whose it is.” My researcher here (patting Rick on the shoulder) found out all about it. But as you opened it up there was a little note in there that he had written from the field hospital. He wrote, “Dear sis,” and it was a nice little note. Then he said, “I’m going to join my boys next week.” There were eight boys in that family; he didn’t have a sister. So we’ve made up our own story because in those days, whether you were a nurse, a dietitian, a physio—it didn’t matter—you were all called nursing sisters. So we figure he had a girlfriend, which makes us feel better—I don’t know if he really did.

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But his name is on Menin Gate (a First World War memorial to those whose graves are unknown) because they never found his body. He’s had a lot of company in recent years. All my friends who go over go and see my uncle.

Tom Christie: Where’s Menin Gate?

Norm: It’s in Belgium—Ypres. And that’s a magic place. Since 1928, they have the Last Post ceremony every night at 8 o’clock. It doesn’t matter if it’s raining, hailing, whatever—they do it.

The only time they stopped doing it was during the Second World War when they were occupied. But the night they were freed, they did it. We went to it (once) and it was really something to be there for that ceremony.

These interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.


Robert Heath, 20-year member of the Royal Canadian Legion.
Robert Heath, 20-year member of the Royal Canadian Legion. Photo by Christina Ryan /Swerve

The Home Front

Robert Heath was eight years old when the Second World War ended and 13 when the conflict in Korea began. These facts explain both why he did not serve in the Canadian Armed Forces and why he is a committed member of the Royal Canadian Legion.

As a boy growing up on a farm in Manitoba, he saw the sacrifices people made to support the Second World War effort, and it marked him for life. “I know farmers stuffed their tires full of hay and straw and stuff, because you couldn’t buy an inner tube,” he says. “People saved all their cooking grease to make explosives. You’d take it to the municipal office and it was shipped to Dominion Explosives.”

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Heath says the war had a powerful effect on children. “We knew what an apple was and we knew what a pear was, but we didn’t know what a banana tasted like or even an orange. They were all rationed.” There were also less tangible effects from vaguely understood radio broadcasts and overheard adult conversations. “In a child’s mind, the war was close,” Heath recalls. “You could even hear tanks at night in your imagination.”

The experiences meant that when he retired from the oil-and-gas industry, he was eager to volunteer at the Legion. One of the duties that is close to his heart is conducting pre-Remembrance Day services at seniors homes. “The old folks sitting in wheelchairs in the care homes—they have memories, too,” he says. “They lost loved ones. It’s not that they were in the same danger as our fighting men and women but they held down the home front. I’m proud of them old people.”


Members of the Roundtable

Muriel Mymko

– Joined the Service Corps (militia) in Winnipeg in 1959 while working at a bank
– Joined the Air Force in 1967, retired in 1993
“I had a lot of different postings, all in Canada unfortunately. I was a flight attendant for two years with the Air Force. I did two tours in Alert.”

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Bob Titus

– Joined the army in 1957; first posted to Queen’s Own Rifles depot
– Service included stints at School of Infantry, Combat Arms School at CFB Gagetown, as an instructor at Camp Borden, peacekeeping in Cyprus and eight years with Calgary Highlanders
“In 1988, I decided I’d had enough of it and I got out. When I retired, I was 47 years old, and I’d done 30 years in the army.”

Norm Harvey

– Joined the RCAF reserves in London, Ont. as a 17-year-old; “I needed a summer job”
– After basic training he joined a radar squadron in Sudbury, Ont. The radar station was part of the Pine Tree Line, the most southerly (after the DEW and Mid-Canada lines) series of bases tasked with detecting a Soviet bomber attack
“My task was fighter control officer and, just like in the movies, we had a big map. We plotted aircraft on the map. We had a brilliant, colourful screen that was round that had a trace going around it. But it was quite dizzying and if your eyes weren’t really staying focused you could wind up going around with the trace.”

Tony Jewells

– Was a boy soldier in the U.K., then joined the Royal British Marines Reserve
– Became a police officer in London and then Hong Kong
– Emigrated to Canada in 1976, joined the reserves in 1980, specifically the Royal Artillery,
15th Field Regiment in Vancouver
– After three years left to start a family, but served again 1990-2010
– Joined Legion in 2010 and is a director of the Last Post Fund, which works “to ensure that no veteran is denied a dignified funeral and burial, as well as a military gravestone, due to insufficient funds at time of death”
Rick Wright
– Joined the militia in 1963, while still in high school
– After high shool attended military college in Victoria and Kingston, graduating in 1969
– Served 1969-2001, “going from coast to coast to coast and a couple of tours in Europe and two UN tours.” (Egypt 1974, Cyprus 1979)
“I’m army signals, so I did a lot of running around raising antennas and stuff like that—putting in communications systems.”

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Linda Wright

– Joined army in 1973 as a registered nurse
– All postings were in Canada, including a year and a half at a radar base
– Married to Rick
“I was one of the first married nurses to join, so there was a bit of a kerfuffle—that’s a good word for it. Because I was married. They didn’t like that, They made sure I knew what I was getting into.
“I got out in 1985 after we adopted our son. When we adopted, there was nothing in place for adoption leave—there was maternity leave but not adoption leave. So I had to fight that and I went to the Human Rights Commission and won so it was put into QR&Os (Queen’s Regulations and Orders).

Tom Christie

– Served 31 years with the RCMP; in retirement, he works as a civilian for the force, handling security clearances and other duties
“Did I ever go to war? No. Did I ever wear an army uniform? No. But the Legion and Remembrance Day are very, very close to the hearts of RCMP members. Members will work all night then get up after two hours of sleep to march on the 11th.”

Robert Heath

– Legion member for 20 years
– As a young man growing up in rural Manitoba, he passed the RCMP exams, but found more lucrative employment on an oil rig before joining the force

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