Lest We Forget? Better Than Remembering.

I just spent a really great couple of weeks with my dad. He came out to the coast to celebrate his 90th birthday. My brothers came out also so we had a real reunion.

Dad made the trip because he isn't confident he will be able to make such a journey next year or even next month for that matter. Chances are, he's right.

My father has beat the odds, big time. He was horribly wounded in the last "big war" and that he got through 1944 at all was astonishing. Be that as it may he's still with us - for a while longer.

If you've read this blog you may have come to the conclusion that I'm anti-war. I am. My views didn't keep me from serving in Canada's military. At the time I thought it was a decent, honourable thing to do. That view hasn't changed. Before, during and since, however, I've been anti-war.

Real warriors are pacifists - always have been and always will be. They accept that fighting may be unavoidable at times but should be avoided whenever possible. They know and understand what befalls good and honourable people when politicians and civilians ignore that idea. They know because it falls to them - not the loudmouth civilians and their boastful politicians - to pay the price of someone else's bravado.

Canadians have been fighting for six years in Afghanistan and our total casualties in this conflict pale compared to the first fifteen minutes of the landing at Dieppe. In those days, 80-dead was just another bad day at the office. At times we lost that many in a single, moonlit night sky over Germany. That said, every Canadian soldier's life we lose in Afghanistan, every mangled Canadian soldier we bring home to face his uncertain future, is as much a sacrifice as any performed in the past. It's all a waste.

I have a wish for all the hawks out there. Don't worry you chickenshits, it's a wish that can't come true. Yet I wish you had real firsthand experience of what war leaves behind for the survivors - the families of the dead and the families of the wounded. I wish you knew the fear, the frustration and the abject pain. I wish I could feed that reality to you, shove it down your throats.

Lest we forget? It's not forgetting that's the problem, it's how we selectively and deceitfully choose to remember. In case you're wondering, I don't wear a poppy. I don't need to.