Stand Up and Be Silent

My father rarely talked about his experience in war. His was a not a generation given to the soul-baring so prevalent in today’s celebrity tell-all culture. That’s not to say he never talked about it. Growing up in the 1970s in Wellington County, my father would very occasionally and obliquely make reference to World War Two. The sound of a police or ambulance siren would send a shiver up his spine. We once asked why, and he told us that it took him back to his youth in Hong Kong during the Second World War, when air raid sirens pieced the air with the wail of death and destruction. He watched as British and Canadian soldiers fought futilely and desperately to defend the colony. Many died. Those not dead were taken prisoner and suffered horrific torture and abuse.

My father is no longer living and his direct experiences are no longer available to me. Each year is one year further away from the immediacy of the battles of war and the horrific slaughter that accompanied them. Each year, the memories become more faint, the personal connections more distant. Each year, it is becoming more difficult to remember. And so it is with millions of Canadians whose families have been touched by Canada’s experience in war.

But remember we must, for the war dead were too many, the maimed and wounded too tragic, and the shattered lives too horrific for us to forget that easily. And it is the war dead, in particular, that should really shake us.

Ninety one years ago this Remembrance Day, at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the guns of the Great War went silent. Sixty thousand Canadian dead. One hundred thirty thousand wounded. On one horrific day alone – the Battle of Vimy Ridge on April 9, 1917 – 3,600 were killed and 7,100 wounded. It is said that day truly marks the birth of the nation we call Canada.

Imagine a war where 270 Canadian soldiers die each and every week. Then imagine that continuing for each and every week of a 4½ year long war. That was the Great War and such was the sacrifice.

During the Second World War, the dead and wounded also abounded. Forty thousand Canadian dead. Twenty thousand wounded. Since the birth of our nation in 1867, over 110,000 Canadians have died in war. A staggering figure which does not include those physically maimed or wounded, or those mentally broken who suffered silently the nightmares of war for the rest of their lives.

Our mission in Afghanistan continues to add to these numbers, with over 100 Canadian dead. The Prime Minister told me that calling the loved ones of the fallen is the most difficult part of his job.

Many were never buried, their corporeal beings pulverised into the dust of war, never to be found. Those who were buried are mostly in graves overseas, in places few Canadians ever will visit. Pusan. El Alamein. South Africa. Singapore. Hong Kong. Vimy Ridge. Ypres. They are alone and forlorn, but are they forgotten?

Over the last number of decades, as the war experiences of our veterans become ever more distant, we have forgotten how to remember.

This November 11th, I’m asking you, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, to do something simple and poignant, yet powerful: Stand up and be silent.

Stand up and be silent to reflect on the dead.

This past week, the House of Commons passed a unanimous motion asking Canadians to observe two minutes of silence everywhere – in schools, in malls, in the street and in the workplace.

The silence of remembering the dead is a simple and powerful way to state who we are and where we have been, as a people and as a nation.

This November 11th, stand up and be silent.

Michael Chong is the Member of Parliament for Wellington-Halton Hills and can be reached through his website

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