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Remembering our vetsNov 19 '07 Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line In honour of Frank, father, grandfather, husband, and WW2 veteran. Another Rememberance Day (Veterans Day for those of you South of the border) has come and gone, and with it, more of the old guard who volunteered to serve in the World Wars, even as more young people today put their lives on the line for their country, or so they're told. To honour their memory, it seems only fitting that I should write about one such person. It has now been 3+ years since my late grandfather passed away, at the ripe old age of eighty-seven. Frank as we affectionately refer to him, was one of the many young men who put their lives on the line to serve in the most destructive war the world has ever seen, and hopefully ever will see. As the number of WW2 vets continues to dwindle, it seems only fitting I should write about one such vet so he is never forgotten. If there was ever a success story in life, my grandfather was it. Frank was born into a lower-class English family in a small town in the BC interior. Young Frank would soon prove himself to be strong, athletic, polite, gentlemanly, literate, and very very bright. Not only was Frank smart, but he was determined to put his brains to good used by doing something his father never did, get a university education. Yet this created some problems that had to be overcome. Problem #1: Frank's father. Frank's aghast Dad: "University is for rich men's sons and boys who are bright, and you are neither." Translation: "How dare you try to show up your old man by striving for something I always wanted, but could never get? If I couldn't achieve my dreams, than neither should you." Problem #2: No high school where Frank lived. You can't get a university education if you didn't get a high school education. Solution #1: Frank's mother. Unlike her husband, she had an upper-middle class background and fully supported her son. Solution #2: Frank's aunts. They lived in Vancouver, a city that did have a high school, several in fact. At age thirteen, Frank went to live with them and got the high school education he so richly wanted and deserved. Graduating in the mid-1930s, Frank now found himself with another major problem, money. It was the height of the Great Depression and money was tight, even for those with jobs. Thanks to a little help from the Canadian government, Frank was able to find work in the North working as a miner. Not exactly the most pleasant of jobs, I imagine, but any job in those days was welcome. It was whilst working in the mines that Frank would strike up a romance with a certain Myrtle, the pretty young cook who kept the miners so well fed. The old saying, 'the way to a man's heart is his stomach' certainly worked in this case, as Myrtle would go on to become his future wife. Frank's education however would get interrupted by events overseas. A certain Adolf Hitler was in the process of carving up Europe, and the great powers of Britain and France had finally had enough. Frank, a devoted monarchist, decided King and Country came before his dreams, and dropped out to enlist in the Canadian Armed Forces. He would eventually be shipped out overseas, but not before marrying Myrtle, who would hold a torch for him while he was away. Frank would eventually rise in rank to command a tank regiment, which he would lead in France and Holland. Proud though he was of his WW2 service, Frank rarely talked about what he witnessed and participated in. I remember my mother telling me about how when she was young, she casually asked him how many people he killed in the war. Frank was aghast. "Why on earth would you want to know that?!" My mother never asked again. Twice however, I do recall Frank talking about his experiences in the war. Once was towards the end of his life, he was talking about how his tank kept getting stuck in the mud. This was one of the lighter stories. Time and time again, he and his men would have to go about the agonizing task of digging the damn thing out of the mud, only to have it get stuck again. The other grimmer story was of the first time he experienced real fear. Not fear the way we experience fear, but real absolutely paralyzing fear. Frank's regiment was under attack and Frank had to pull out the map to figure out where they were, not an easy task as Frank's hands were shaking so badly. Frank claimed that this is where it first dawned on him, war is not a game, and he could actually die. Indeed, Frank would in fact be very nearly be killed. While attacking the Ludendorf line in Holland, Frank's regiment would come under attack, and Frank would suffer a serious shrapnel wound to his leg. Frank would very barely manage to drag himself to safety before his tank exploded. Frank would tell a recurring (and not quite accurate) joke over the years about how he got out of his tank, then realized he's forgotten his stash, (alcohol) so he went back to get his stash, and got hit. Sadly, with 1940s medical care, the doctors would be unable to save Frank's leg. This must have been a serious blow to the once very athletic young man, who would be sent home feeling very sorry for himself. But he had no time to feel sorry for himself, Myrtle wouldn't let him. She was determined that Frank should go back to university so he could make something of himself. Frank was less than eager about this. With Myrtle expecting a kid, Frank felt he should be looking for work, not going to school. Myrtle just barely managed to convince Frank to go see an employment counselor to determine what he was qualified for. Unbeknownst to Frank, Myrtle has previously seen that very same employment counselor and told him what to say. "I don't care what your tests show, tell him he should go to university!" I don't need to tell you what the counselor told Frank. Frank would indeed go back to university. Thanks to support from his veterans pension, Frank completed university and went to work at Shell Oil, where thanks to his dedication, he would work his way up the corporate ladder to a managorial position. He would also raise a large family, he and Myrtle would go on to have four children, my mother among them. The young lower-class boy from the interior would retire an affluent businessman. What effect did the war have on my grandfather? No one who goes to war comes back completely unscathed, certainly not Frank. Besides the physical scars, Frank would suffer occasional bloodcurdling nightmares for the rest of his life. Frank would dream he was in the war, and lash out violently in his dreams. Myrtle would often have to shake him in the middle of the night to make him stop. Sometimes, she slept with a pillow between them for protection. Outside of the dreams however, Frank would run his household in an almost military fashion. For instance he expected his kids to complete all their chores and homework before indulging in leisure time. He expected his kids to be polite and courteous around adults and to show good table manners. He was tight with allowance money, and made very sure you didn't blow what was given to you. He also expected his kids to be honest, and woe be it to the child who was caught lying. If you wanted to avoid his wrath, you had better fess up and apologize quickly. Frank definitely did not spoil his children. Frank even maintained his military attitude while vacationing on the West Coast. He expected his kids to be up at the crack of dawn and to get themselves wet over the head in the sea, or no breakfast. Myrtle managed to avoid this herself by claiming someone needed to make breakfast. Smart move. Frank would also maintain a large library in his study, much of which was dedicated to WW2. Almost half of these WW2 books were biographies on Winston Churchill. Frank absolutely revered Churchill. Despite being born in Canada, Frank was very British, not just British but English, and Churchill was to him the ultimate Englishman. Frank I suspect worshipped Churchill the way Christians worship Jesus. He even maintained a large portrait of Churchill on his study wall. I regret I was not able to discuss with Frank what I knew about the war when I was younger. I do recall talking with him about Anne Frank and debating the use of the atomic bomb, but that was it. By the time I was properly educated about all the theatres of the war, Frank's memory was failing due to Alzheimer's. Frank's once powerful intellect was fast slipping away. I am deeply honoured to have had Frank for a grandfather. Frank was to me a wonderful person, not only for his WW2 service, but for his intelligence, kindness, humour, and moral character. It is with great pleasure that I share with you my memories of this great man.  |
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