On May 8, 1945, Canadian soldiers from Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry rolled through the city of Haarlem in the Netherlands, officially liberating the city from the German occupation. The Germans had surrendered three days earlier, and the Dutch citizens welcomed the Canadians with great rejoicing. Somewhere in the thick of the celebration was a thirteen year old boy named Gerbrand. He and his family survived the war intact, physically at least, but so many of his neighbours and friends did not live to see the liberation. That young man is my Dad.

In 1951 my Dad immigrated to Canada, to the same country that liberated him, to a land full of opportunity that welcomed him and over 150,000 of his fellow countrymen. There he learned a new language, started a business, raised a family, and fully adopted Canada as his new country by becoming a Canadian citizen.

I knew all this growing up, but it took three separate events to make it really come clear and meaningful. The first was when hiking through the town of Jougne, France, we came upon a memorial to all the French soldiers from Jougne who had died in the First and Second World Wars. What caught my attention is that every town and city in Canada, including my tiny village of St. George, has similar plaques and memorials with all the names of those who went across the ocean to fight and die for freedom. Seeing the same memorial in a foreign country so far away was a shock, and made the distance suddenly seem a lot less.

The second event was when my wife and I, somewhat accidentally, came across the Bergen-op-Zoom War Cemetery in the Netherlands, where 1197 casualties from the two World Wars are buried, many of them Canadian. Walking through the rows of graves on a beautiful sunny day so far removed from war, reading the names of young men who weren’t even eighteen years old yet, and seeing the clustered graves of entire bomber crews, was indescribably emotional.

It wasn’t until President Trump started threatening Canada with the 51st state rhetoric that I, along with millions of other Canadians, started to think deeply about why we love our country. Canadians are generally understated in their patriotism, in part to avoid acting like our southern neighbours. But when Canadians are threatened, even in supposed jest, we are roused from our laid back nature and start taking notice.

My patriotism is quite personal. Canada’s army, made up of ordinary citizens from all over the countryside, crossed the ocean and liberated my Dad’s family from the horrors of fascism. The same country welcomed my Dad, his brothers, and his fellow citizens a few years later and allowed them to make a new life for themselves, raise families, and live in peace. The men and women whose names are on the plaques in St. George and Jougne and so many other cities made Canada possible, and I, we, owe them a great debt. 

Today is Remembrance Day where we remember the sacrifice our Canadian ancestors made to give us a free country, and that day has become a lot more meaningful in the past few years. Charlie Angus summarizes Remembrance Day in Canada in Canada’s 100 Days: A Remembrance Day Reflection better than I can:

The lesson … is that as the world becomes increasingly unstable and dangerous, Canadians need to remember the cost that other generations were forced to pay so we could live in peace and freedom.

Whether it was on the North Atlantic, bombing runs over Berlin, at Ortona, Falaise, the Scheldt, the Netherlands, Korea, Medak Pocket, or Kandahar, young Canadians always showed up and did their part.

And more.

They did it to free other people. But they also did it so that a new generation wouldn’t have to go through what they suffered. That is the meaning of Remembrance Day: to protect and preserve that legacy.