Remembering Vimy

Given that tomorrow is Remembrance Day (not Rememberance, as some people seem to think), I decided to dig out a piece from my archives (okay, really it was the bottom of a filing cabinet) that I wrote after visiting Vimy Ridge, almost to the day in 1993. The article was published in a student newspaper in 1996. 


Remembering Vimy

Before I visited the Canadian War Memorial at Vimy Ridge, in France, I didn’t know what to expect. My limited knowledge of Vimy came from what I read in books and watched on television. But after witnessing the wounds that were so callously inflicted upon the earth and scrolling my hands across the monument that stands as a testament to this tragedy, I have a new understanding of what Vimy Ridge means, an understanding that can only be gained by being there.

Growing up, I was told of the sacrifices made by my grandparents, great grandparents, and even by strangers. I learned of the tragedy that consumed the world in 1914 and again in 1939. And each November I wore a poppy.

Remembering was always difficult, though—my generation never experienced anything as horrific as a world war. Not even my parents could fully comprehend. Besides, how could I remember something if I was never there? I read of the atrocities that swept across Europe, but somehow it didn’t seem real. I watched the aging veterans march by on Remembrance Day, but they seemed more like grandfathers than soldiers.

Seventy-eight years ago, thousands upon thousands of Canadians, most of them younger than I am a today, gave their lives simply for the sake of human misfortune. Others, fortunate enough to survive, would have forever etched in their memories a brutal place where they lost their friends, their innocence, and most of all the simple joys we take for granted.

As I stood on the Ridge it was hard to imagine what went on seventy-nine years ago. The clouds hung low, and a cool mist was in the air, much like it must have been during the war. I tried to picture what it would have been like during the battle—the piercing sounds of artillery fire, the final words of a wounded soldier—but there was just a serene calmness. Beautiful trees and lush grasses have replaced the blood and tears.

For those who were never there, remembering is difficult, but compassion and understanding is the greatest gift we can give to those who courageously went to war. November is a special time to remember those who sacrificed their lives. Let us never forget, for when we begin to lose sight of the sacrifices given, another senseless war will once again consume the world. To those who so bravely answered the call — thanks.

~ Ken Donohue…1996

For more information on the Vimy Ridge Memorial
http://www.vac-acc.gc.ca/remembers/sub.cfm?source=memorials/ww1mem/vimy


A poignant reminder of Remembrance Day is Terry Kelly's, A Pittance of Time

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kX_3y3u5Uo&feature=related