Remembrance Day And Honoring My Dad

It is Remembrance Day. The day we set aside, albeit far too briefly, to honor those who sacrificed so much not only in the two Great Wars but also in all the wars that have unfortunately dotted mankind's existence.
My Dad was part of "the greatest generation that ever lived". A generation that sacrificed so much to go through not one, but two great wars in far too short of time. Many of these young men and women were only 18, 19 and 20 years old when they lay down their lives to give us the freedoms we enjoy so much today.
I watched with interest and satisfaction on the National News last night that Remembrance Day is making a comeback of sorts.
More people seem interested in the observance of Remembrance Day than in past years. I imagine the war in Iraq and Afghanistan has something to do with it with so many of our young Canadian men laying down their lives over there.
It was also nice to note that Saskatoon has the largest Remembrance Day service in the country with Credit Union Center usually filled to honor and salute our fallen soldiers.
My Dad was one of the lucky ones, I suppose. He came back which I guess makes him really one of the lucky ones but he also suffered greatly in later years with stomach problems which he traced back to the German buzz bombs that were used in that day. These were bombs, I'm not a very technical person, but apparently equipped with some sort of motor. They were filled with enough fuel to reach their intended target. When the fuel ran out, the intention being at the point of the target, the theory was that they would fall from the sky and destroy the lives and facilities below. Dad remembers lying there listening to these things sputter, cough and die and then wondering where they would land or if they would land on the place where he was. Frightening and not something that most of us can relate to.
Dad was also lucky in another way. He was a gifted musician, a pianist. Early in his military career (do you call it a career when you are called to war), he was spotted playing the piano by a ranking officer. Dad loved the piano. If there was one around to be played he found it and he played it. The story goes that he was playing in a night club or hall of some description when he was spotted playing the piano by this officer. Very quickly there after he was removed from his unit and deployed to the Royal Canadian Military Band where he spent the rest of the war traveling, playing for troops and lifting their morale from the ugly realities of war. So who knows the gift of music that he was so richly blessed with may have saved his life. Which is fitting. Music was his life. Upon returning from the war he became a piano teacher teaching and touching many lives with his gift and carrying out a full time job as well.
I am sure if he had the opportunities that are available today he would have been a full time music instructor probably at
a high school or something but back then that option just wasn't open to him. So today as we honor our veterans, I also honor my Dad and am thankful to God that he came back and for the impact that he had on my life and hopefully today I am a better man because of him. My Dad - Alfred Curtis Hiatt.


In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae


In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.