My History is Not My Own

Posted on by CBF Students - Étudiants FCCB
Looking from atop the Villers-Bretonneux Cemetery Memorial Tower

Looking from atop the Villers-Bretonneux Cemetery Memorial Tower

May 30th 2014, marked the beginning of an adventure of a lifetime: the 2014 Canadian Battlefields Foundation Tour. As one of twelve students selected carefully from across Canada, I, Marko Kljajic, began my journey to commemorate the Canadians that served during the First and Second World Wars. Celebrating and honouring the Canadian men and women in uniform was a significant part of this two-week long tour, however, it was not my only mission. I sought to understand: who, what where, when, why, and how I am. It was for this reason that this tour was an adventure of a lifetime.

My history is not my own. I may be the author of a story, its narrator, and central protagonist, but it is not only mine. When authors exchange their life experiences, their stories become forever intertwined. Each of us has a story. The twelve of us – Allison, Amanda, Emilie, Jordan, Julien, Marlee, Maryse, Matt, Ryan, Sarah, Tyson, and myself – came from different regions of Canada, from the Western Prairies to the Maritimes. We came from different backgrounds, shared different viewpoints, and had different goals and aspirations. Even so, we were all tied by this shared experience. But, what connected us to one another was not simply our two weeks spent together, but a common history that – whether we are conscious or unconscious of it – has shaped our personal character. We are all connected – future, past, present. The present moment forms a past and determines a future that is given meaning by the past.

We are all Canadian. This category of nationality is a central aspect of my identity. But, what does it mean to be a Canadian? My journey over the next two weeks was oriented around this question. A ‘Canadian’ may be like all other concepts of the social universe – simply a construction. I believe, however, that, at its core, there lays a unique set of qualities. ‘Canada’ and the ‘Canadian’ represent a set of values and practices of democracy and democratization; economic security; protection of human rights; tolerance of diversity; respect for the environment; social equity; and an engaged civil society. At first glance, this is a standard description of a liberal society, much like the United Kingdom, France or the United States of America. Indeed, these nations share a common set of institutions, however, each is still distinct from the other. There is thus a ‘Canadian Way.’ The men and women, who served during the First and Second World Wars, whether overseas in faraway Europe or at the home front, sacrificed and devoted themselves to something greater than themselves. There were certainly many reasons behind why one chose to enlist or help – from the belief in righteousness to the harsh reality of necessity. Beyond individual intentions, however, I believe their collective deed represented something much greater. Their actions symbolized the struggle for a particular way of life, and not only for themselves, but for those who lived under oppression and whose lives were torn by the scourges of war.

This is especially pertinent to me as an immigrant to Canada. My family fled from Yugoslavia amidst the civil war that consumed the country. In search of a new home, we were embraced by Canada with open arms; it did not matter from where we came. Growing up in this unique, ethnically diverse and multicultural society showed me that difference was not a justification for oppression and violence. We could all stand together as equals, as Canadians. I learned that freedom and peace are not guarantees, but ideals that must be secured and protected, often with the highest cost: life. With this in mind, I am grateful for the Canadian troops and peacekeepers that helped to bring general peace to my former country. But, as a citizen of Canada, I am indebted to the soldiers who served and sacrificed their lives for this country. Without their acts of bravery and courage, I would not be the individual I am today.

As a collective, the stories of these millions of men and women, shapes what it means to be a Canadian today. Their stories are thus part of mine. My history is not my own. As the author, narrator, and protagonist of my own story, I needed understand them – in their greatest triumphs, their lowest disappointments, and even when times were ‘mundane’ – in order to better understand my Canadian identity.

This tour was a adventure of a lifetime. Travelling though Belgium and France and studying the Canadian battlefields has given me a more complete understanding of the subject matter and a deeper understanding of myself in history. The historian often writes and studies on a topic years, decades, and even centuries from when it happened. This tour has demonstrated to me that the historian must visit and analyze the place of their study. It is essential to the historian’s craft. At the same time the historian explains and describes the past, he or she is exploring the deeper levels of their identity. My pen may be responsible for writing my own story, but what is it that guides the pen across the page? The guiding force is history. It is one thing to learn history, but it is another thing entirely to experience it.

For my final remark, I would like to thank the fellow participants of the 2014 Canadian Battlefields Foundation Tour – Allison, Amanda, Emilie, Jordan, Julien, Marlee, Maryse, Matt, Ryan, Sarah, and Tyson – for the wonderful memories, our photographer Rob for taking the time to take thousands of pictures, and our amazing tour guides Professor Milner, Colonel Patterson, and Bobbi Milner, for your knowledge, patience, and support. All of you have made this trip an unforgettable experience that I will cherish for the remainder of my life.

Passchendaele and the Power of Words

Posted on by CBF Students - Étudiants FCCB

June 1/14

Today I was presenting my first presentation of the tour. It was on the 26th New Brunswick Battalion at Passchendaele. I was looking forward to actually setting foot on this battlefield. I had been researching the last couple weeks on the battle and have seen the movie, so I could not wait to actually be there. When we arrived at the memorial, I had to stand there for a moment and take it in that I was actually standing on Passchendaele. The feeling was overwhelming knowing that over 16,000 Canadians were killed, wounded, or missing on that field. I was standing on hallow ground. The land looked so peaceful and green; a stark contrast to the hellish mud that it has always been described as. It was hard to believe that so many men had died for this piece of land. The ridge hardly looked like a ridge or at least not what I had pictured. The geography of the land definitely provided a better understanding of what the battle consisted of.

Presenting at Passchendaele

Presenting at Passchendaele

The actual memorial for Passchendaele was located on Crest Farm. While it was not as grand as the Vimy Ridge memorial or as tall as the Brooding Soldier, it was powerful through its simplicity. As a New Brunswicker, it was humbling being there as the 26th Battalion started their campaign of this battle at Crest Farm. The three companies of the battalion were able to quickly take their objectives the morning of Nov. 6/1917 and held them until reinforcements relieved them. Most of the history books do not mention the effort of the New Brunswick Battalion. It was not until I went through the war diaries and official history that I was able to piece together what these men did at Passchendaele. I felt proud to be able to share my province’s contribution to this battle when it is often forgotten about.

The memorial of Passchendaele

The memorial of Passchendaele

While I felt overwhelmed by standing on the Passchendaele battlefield, I can hardly describe the emotions I felt when visiting Tyne Cot Cemetery. It was here that I truly understood the power of words. As I walked the rows of graves, I came across one grave and stopped to read the epitaph. In an instant, I was sent back to my brother’s three tours to Afghanistan and all of the fears, worries, and wondering if he was okay. The epitaph read “you have left behind some broken hearts that never can forget you.” Mine and my family’s worst fear was losing my bother to the war and here this family has lost a son/brother to that war. I was not prepared for the instant reaction I had to reading the epitaph. I had always known that words were powerful but today was the first time I truly experienced it. The messages the families left, leave a powerful feeling with anyone who reads them. Their sons/brothers/husbands/fathers gave the ultimate sacrifice and their families used many powerful statements to remember them by. These epitaphs give us a small glimpse into the thoughts and feelings of the families of the fallen. The instant emotional reaction I had showed me just how important it was for me to be there, to remember, and for me to bring back home this experience and share it with others.

Located in Tyne Cot cemetery

Located in Tyne Cot cemetery

Dieppe and Encounters with Lionel

Posted on by CBF Students - Étudiants FCCB

June 4th 2014 – Pourville and day two of Dieppe

Today was the second day during which we discussed Operation ‘Jubilee,’ the failed raid on Dieppe. We had spent the previous day at Puys walking the shores of ‘Blue’ beach where we experienced first hand the difficult terrain encountered by the Black Watch and the Royal Regiment of Canada who landed there on August 19th, 1942. Upon examining the ground it quickly became apparent that any advance upon such rough terrain covered in fist-sized pebbles would be slow and perilous at best. Furthermore, the beach itself was narrow and hedged in on all sides by concrete and the seawall making any advance upon it in the finest conditions challenging given the tactical advantage afforded to those set to defend it. We concluded our visit to ‘Blue’ beach with a presentation on the Royal Regiment of Canada’s by Alison Weiber knowing full well its tragic outcome.

From Puits we moved into Dieppe in order to analyze the vulnerability of the Canadian forces who managed to land at ‘White’ and ‘Red’ Beaches on similar terrain and who were likewise completely surrounded by the enemy. Here Maryse and Marlee provided us with two excellent presentations that helped situate the role of the Fusilier Mont Royal and the Calgary Tank’s during the failed raid on Dieppe. Experiencing first hand the geography of this region made it easier to appreciate how precarious the situation was for the soldiers who landed there both on foot and in tank.

The last beach we were to examine, ‘Green’ beach, was today’s destination and was to be followed by a visit to the Dieppe Canadian Cemetery just outside the town. The Beach at Pourville was where the South Saskatchewan Regiment and Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders landed. It was on this beach that I gave my presentation on the withdrawal from Dieppe. Having now seen all the beaches from the perspective of the high ground held by the German defenders I began to grasp the difficult task facing those who had hoped to escape these shores. The task of those involved in the withdrawal operations was onerous to say the least, yet against all odds these men bore the burden it as best they could.

Most remarkable among the stories of the evacuation was that of Padre John Foote. While high command scrambled to save as many souls as possible from the shores of Dieppe Padre John Foote took matters into his own hands ferrying several injured men from the beach to the evacuating landing craft on his back while wading through waist-deep waters up. Once his task was complete and he was offered a spot on the withdrawing landing craft he refused it outright electing to stay instead. Foote insisted that his role was better served alongside those of his comrades who needed him most, those who could not make it off the beaches. That Padre Foote chose to remain on these calamitous shores of his own free will based on the belief that he could help shepherd his comrades who were soon to be prisoners of war is nothing short of an astonishing story, one that reveals how even in war altruism and compassion can prevail. Padre John Foote never faltered in his resolve to make the world a better place. That anyone could be rescued from these beaches was a remarkable story.

As we departed Pourville and made our way to the Dieppe Canadian Cemetery I felt a rush of anxious excitement come over me, for it was here that I was about to meet Pvt. Lionel Cohen, the Canadian fallen on whom I was to present. Before locating Lionel’s final resting place I wandered through the rows of tombstones and found myself captivated by the young ages of many of the men who were buried here, noticing that had circumstances been different these names could just as easily have been those of my friends, family, and tour-mates. Compounding these mixed emotions were the stories of sorrow strewn across the cemetery grounds in the emotional epitaphs selected by their families and friends. In a mixed surge of pride, sadness, and excitement I carried myself forward to find Lionel’s Grave knowing full well that this was to be a very emotional visit.

My presentation on Lionel was the first of two soldier presentations that day and it was set to mark the culmination of a series of conversations that I had been having with Lionel since I first opened his war service file at random in April. Our conversations quickly deepened as I began digging through genealogical records, obituaries, and letters in an effort to better understand Lionel. Furthermore, it was in these conversations that I found the making of a man I may have known begin to take shape. Despite this it was only here at his grave in Dieppe that I truly began to realize a sense of his family’s sadness and the collective grief felt by the many communities following his death. As I went over Lionel’s carefully scripted story I came to apprehend that behind each stone was a story as rich as Lionel’s. Each lose of life was felt by a number of communities, individuals, and families. It was under this swell of perplexing emotions that I lost my composure thinking of the many lives that Lionel left behind.

As I wound up my tribute to Lionel I began to find solace in the exercise of remembering. My words became more than a cathartic act, they became a gateway into the past and a way of honouring those who are often known only to their families. After all, this was the reason I had chosen Lionel in the first place. Furthermore, it reminded me of the importance of historical inquiry and of history as a discipline by properly situating individual stories of loss within a broader national narrative of pride, sacrifice, and duty, one that privileges bravery without forgetting the sorrow and suffering often experienced most harshly at an individual level. In short, the opportunity to unearth Lionel’s story helped add a humanistic dimension to the work we were doing on the tour, and, for the rest of my journey I never felt as if I walked alone.

Making History Come Alive- June 1st, By Sarah Hogenbirk

Posted on by CBF Students - Étudiants FCCB

One aspect that has repeatedly struck me as I reflect back on my experiences of the 2014 CBF tour was the sensory elements of the tour.  Now, I do not just mean French cuisine, which was definitely a highlight.  I will never forget my first French baguette, or my first shot of Calvados.  Some of my most memorable moments occurred in quiet conversations about the cemetery we had just visited during our roadside picnic lunches and in “louder moments” at group dinners (singing on the patio of a French restaurant will remain a cherished memory).  When I speak of the “sensory elements,” what I am also referring to is how the trip gave me further understanding of the histories I had read through engaging my five senses.

Some historians are better than others at explaining or re-creating the past in such a way that readers can imagine themselves in the situation, event or moment being discussed.  Even with these skilled historians, the written format that academic historians still rely on as their primary means of communicating is very limited in engaging in the senses.  For instance, written descriptions and even photographs of the Canadian National Vimy Memorial Park that I had looked at prior to the trip did not prepare me for my first sight of the Vimy Monument.  In fact, my first sight of it was kilometres away as the tour drove along the roads leading up to it.

Vimy Monument from the drive up

Vimy Monument from the drive up

Nothing could have prepared me for how it dominates the landscape (on a side note, I had a similar reaction to see the Brooding Soldier at St. Julien Memorial that commemorates Canadian’s participation in the Second Battle of Ypres).  It was truly awe-inspiring.

A part of the visit saw us go into the tunnels. The tunnels had been widened from what the soldiers would have faced.  During that visit the guides turned off the lights to allow us to briefly experience in a limited way what the soldiers would have faced waiting for the battle to start.  One minute I could see and the next moment it was pitch black, with only little lights punctuating the darkness.  I knew my tour mates were with me only by the sounds of their breathing and their feet as they shifted their weight.  The lights were only out briefly.  Still, the experience provided me new insight into what it might have been like for soldiers, who like me, were mostly unused to being enclosed in a tunnel with people all around.

 

The view from inside the pillbox

The view from inside the pillbox

The scent that stays with me was from when I went into a pillbox that was part of the recreated trench system.  It is hard to put the particular stench into words.  The best way I can describe the smell is that it was a mixture of rotting vegetation and musty dank cellar.  Entering the pillbox was made more challenging by trying to avoid stepping in a small pool of water on the dirt floor and not hitting my head on the narrow doorway and low ceiling.  I was fortunate enough to be in there for only a few minutes and did not have to deal with the lice, rats, weeks of being able to not properly wash clothing or oneself that soldiers faced.  Yet, the tunnel and trench experience made it easier for me to imagine what it was like.  It gave me a deeper sense of connection to those who had walked there before me.  Touching the cool stone of the pillbox was chilling in more ways than one.  For a moment, I experienced a small measure of the hardships that they faced while they waited for battle.

Nothing could have prepared me for the intensity of and range of emotions I felt almost in spite of myself as I visited the Canadian National Vimy Memorial Park.  I had expected to be impressed, after all the memorial was designed to mark a battle that has overtime become a source of national pride.  However, I had not expected to feel such deep sorrow that swelled up as I listened to Tyson tell us of the cost of the heroic action of 85th Battalion taking Hill 145.  This battalion was a pioneer battalion that got called upon to take a hill and succeeded in taking the hill despite not being trained for that mission.  I felt pride at what Canadians accomplished at Vimy as I listened, sitting on the steps with the stone of the monument against my back and the sun on my face. A sense of peace came from the fact that the park is simply beautiful.  The baaing of the sheep that seemed to be at all the national sites only added to the picturesque and surreal nature of the site.  It also reminded me how much has changed in the 90 plus years since the battle.  I heard sheep, a father talking with his child where the soldiers would have heard gunfire, the groans of the injured and countless other sounds.

Being a historian is often a solitary endeavour that takes place kilometres, years, decades or even centuries from what one studies.  This trip demonstrated to me that I should not solely rely on documents written in my time period to connect with my research.  A historian needs to visit the places he or she studies.  I gained as much from seeing how much places had changed since it was recorded in paintings, photographs and other testimonies as I did from seeing how little the landscape had changed.  For example, the recent nature of the houses spoke volumes of the destruction caused during the bombing of Caen in the Second World War.  The massive craters at Pointe du Hoc, some of which I could not see over the top when standing at the bottom, brought home the tremendous power of the naval bombardment. I would like to take a moment to thank my fellow tour participants and our incredible guides, Colonel David Patterson, Dr. Marc Milner and Bobbi Milner.  Being able to listen and learn from all of you added more than I can say.  I want to thank you all for sharing your soldier stories, the laughs, the hugs, your thoughts, your support, and for making this truly a trip of a lifetime.