Remembering

The eleventh day of the eleventh month. At the eleventh hour I was at Toronto Old City Hall for the Remembrance Day service. The colour party marched past to sustained applause from the assembled crowd. Once the clock tower boomed out eleven times the bugler played The Last Post almost flawlessly. Two minutes of silence were followed by Reveille, then the National Anthem and the hymn O God Our Help In Ages Past. Toronto Mayor David Miller delivered a thoughtful and introspective address. After prayers, two school children read John McCrae's poem In Flanders Fields. The ceremony concluded with the laying of wreaths and a benediction. A touching service, and a fitting tribute to Canada's soldiers who have fallen both generations and mere days ago. Brave men and women all.

My uncle Vic Belton (1918 - 1991) served in WW II but hardly ever talked about it. The only story he related was seeing a truck in front of him being blown up at a bridge. Vic's brother and my dad Cecil Belton (1915 -1956) was also determined to serve, despite certain health issues. He joined the Royal Regiment of Canada, a reserve outfit which met weekly at Fort York. My dad was sent to training camp at Niagara-on-the-Lake, but he kept one big secret from his superiors - he was a diabetic. Just at sunrise each day he would steal away from the tents to self-administer his insulin shots. Dad was never called up for service and he told my Mom he wasn't sure how he'd handle his insulin requirements if he was sent off to war.

Cecil Belton with the Royal Regiment of Canada circa 1940.

The debate currently raging in Canada is why are troops are serving and dying over in Afghanistan. But today is a time to simply reflect on their sacrifices and to honour and admire them - for their committment to their country and for their heroism.