A letter to a young soldier
Dear Alec:I was struck today, watching the majestic red and white of the Canadian flag snap about in the wind atop the flagpole, by a thought that drove home the importance of what you did sixty-one years ago. You didn’t fight under that banner, the crimson stripes on either side of a central maple leaf. It was established by a nation safe from the threat of hatred, extremism, violence and tyranny. It was established by a nation that you helped to build but were never able to see or experience.
I live under that flag – it represents all of the best qualities of a nation that I am proud to call home. I live in a democracy that does not face the threat of war. I am 18 years old, but I am bound for university instead of a front in Europe. I go to a school on the other side of the country, where I live alongside young people from all over the world – England, Japan, America, Germany and more. That notion must seem so foreign to you, a 21-year old frozen forever in the summer of 1944.
Perhaps that is why your sacrifice seems so meaningful.
You committed yourself to the soil of France forever, in defence of a world that you would never know, that you could never anticipate. You put your life at risk to protect the lives, faces and futures of people far away in time and space. You sacrificed all that you had to live for so that I might live the life I do today. It was an act of utmost bravery and generosity, and for that I thank you.
I saw you today. You marched in the parade, your tam on your head and your face stern as steel, carried forward on the mournful tones of the bagpipes. You looked no older than me. And yet you gave up everything.
A grateful grand-nephew thanks you.
