Ramp Ceremony

Here we are again.
Another day at the ramp.
Irony strikes as final goodbyes
bring distant friends to the ramp.

Hellos, warriors grip their comrades hands,
In their minds, the thought of fallen friends,
Departed and engraved only in memories,
Of the remaining, wounded steadfast.

The jaws of the aircraft gape,
And the tonsils are covered by a
Canadian Flag.
As we despair its unsparing appetite.

The pipes are painfully played,
As the comfort of familiar words echo,
The pall-bearers grunt silently
Under the weight of all their grief,

The escorts march with long stares,
Following the fallen friend,
With sullen sorrow.
Minds numbed of the loss.

We who were young,
Had watched grizzled veterans,
March solemn on the day of Armistice,
Proudly wear their marks of service and honour,

The visible living absorbed our admiration,
As their minds were fixed on their fallen brethren,
All unwitting that we would one day
Take rank suddenly among them.

As we farewell our friends,
Our eyes cannot meet too long,
Lest we betray our common fear,
That our next meeting be here.

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
January 20, 2008

On Institutional Assassination

My most vindictive writing is always saved for the media. I place sensational reporting just above ambulance-chasing and arm-chair columnising.

One of the latest examples of egregious sensationalism is Macleans' recent attempt to portray the Royal Canadian Mounted Police as an institution in disarray. The pattern is quite predictable. The journalist finds a number of stories of people unhappy with their employer within an institution that cannot defend itself against those people (most respectable institutions won't discuss individual cases in public to guard the privacy of the people involved). Link the stories by dressing a portrait of institutional patterns, using no methodology and casting aspersions by inference. Find disenfranchised members of the institution willing to talk "off the record" and use their quotations for institutional character assassination.

This method of sensationalist journalism always achieves the goal. The reporter makes a name for themselves for exposing institutional incompetence. Macleans has done this before. Ten years ago, in the wake of the Somalia inquiry, it was a series of sordid tales about the Canadian Forces and how the institution was in disarray.

It is irresponsible to paint an entire institution as dysfunctional, based on the revelation of unrelated and isolated problems. It is this type of reporting that tends to fuel calls for systemic reform in the wake of individual discontent, like applying a hammer against a bevy of fruit flies. In general, the problems within the RCMP are more like scratches and bruises than a major disease. By diagnosing surgery, sensationalist editors are condemning a fine institution to unnecessary trauma .

All public institutions must be responsive to calls for reform. I simply wish that journalists would hold themselves to the same standard of fairness that Canadian public institutions regularly uphold.

Overheard

Overheard at a Saskatchewan Roughriders game:

"I gotta get me a facebook. I'm totally out of the loop."

Drunken football yahoo, July 2007

I Support the Troops

The funniest 22 Minutes sketch, highlighting how ridiculous the "support our troops" non-debate can potentially become.

My Top Ways to Support the Troops;

1. Become a soldier.
2. Kiss and/or hug a soldier.
3. Become a soldier and kiss and hug other soldiers.
4. Plaster yellow ribbons on people and things.
5. Impose martial law on your family and pets.
6. Wear camouflage to work and parties.
7. Wear camouflage underwear, to camouflage your camouflage.
8. Contribute to the Military Family Fund.

For the record, I also support the troops. But I don't support the unsupporting of troop non-supporters. Support that.

Rhode Non-Island

To the People of the Great State of Rhode Island,

I am writing to inform you that your State is not an island. You are kindly requested to cease and desist from advertising your state's island identity.

I don't quite know where to begin with how wrong this is. Where I come from, if you are not an island, you do not go around calling yourself an island. There is a fundamental question of integrity at stake here.

More than the dishonesty of the poorly named great state is the fact that many of my friends knew that Rhode Island was not an island, and failed in their duty to tell me so. I have spent many, many a year keeping Rhode Island safely tucked in the "Islands-to-visit" category, all in vain. In fact, I was planning to visit Rhode Island... Imagine my surprise when I learned from, of all things, Google Maps, that you are not the Island that you claimed to be. This is the type of thing that men in dark suits come to your door to tell you, and I had to learn it from the internet.

Contrary to popular belief, not everyone can be an island. Carrying the island identity requires, in general, an odd accent, higher than normal levels of unemployment and a non-conformist streak.

Should your state wish to become a genuine island in the future, your case will be revisited. In the meantime, please refrain from deceiving the entire world as to your hydro-geographical identity.

Wounded in Action (II) and Letters from Front

The 1st Canadian Division left for France in February 1915 under the command of MGen Arthur Currie after having cooled his heels training on the Salisbury Plain since its arrival in England. Private J.R. Hubble was likely among the soldier who fought their way along a stabilised Western Front from early 1915 until the Battle of the Somme in summer and fall of 1916. Like most other 22 year old men in arms, he was likely feeling ready to go attack the Hun and be home by Christmas. Like most other infantry soldiers who fought along the Western Front, Ross Hubble would be wounded in action. The Battle of the Somme produced some of the most horrific one-day and overall human losses in the history of warfare up until that point.

Beginning in July 1916, General Haig ordered allied forces to renew the offensive along the Western Front. After some initial but costly success, the battle deteriorated into a stalemate of attrition. By September, the Canadians were mounting the third major offensive in the Battle of the Somme with the intent of penetrating German defenses and taking key terrain from the enemy. The Canadians achieved tactical success, and the battle of Flers-Courcellette from September 15-22 saw the first use of the tank in warfare. Yet all along, these gains were miniscule and costly. LGen Gough's Reserve Army was deployed to take the German fortress of Thiepval, an original objective of the Somme offensive. The Canadians held the right flank and advanced at noon on September 26 north of Courcellette under the creeping barrage of artiller that was the tactical signature of General Curry. During the advance at the Somme, a shell landed near four Canadians, killing two instantly and wounding Ross Hubble. These soldiers were recruited out of Vegreville near Edmonton, Alberta. As the Canadians pushed on and consolidated their success, Ross Hubble was evacuated to St Luke's Military Hospital in Bradford, England. Two weeks later, he underwent surgery and shortly after wrote again to his brother William Hubble in Havelock, Ontario. This time, his brother sent the letter to the Havelock Standard, to be published for the community.

Dear Brother,

Just a few lines to let yo know that I am still alive, but I can't say that I am well. I had an operation last night and had a piece of dead bone taken out of my arm, and think I shall feel a lot better when I get some of the dope out of my system. There is a piece of shrapnel still in my arm, but it don't bother me much so I think they will leave it there. Well Will, this is going to be a short letter this time. I tell you they very nearly cleaned up the 1st division of Canadians on Sept 26th and 27th. There were four of us from Vegerville. Two were killed, and I have not heard from the other yet. We have "Fritzy" on the run now, but it is going to cost a lot of lives yet. As I see it, the artillery does all the work and the infantry is just put there to stop the [enemy] shells. I don't think that I shall stop any more [artillery shells] for a few months. They don't pay us any wages while we are in the hospital, but they use us the very best otherwise. There is a fellow next to me from Toronto. Most of the soldiers here are Imperials. I am going to look up the 93rd [Infantry battalion, from Peterborough] when I get better. Well, as news is scarce, I will have to close. Hoping this finds all well and that you write soon.

Your brother, Pte. J.R. Hubble

On March 22, 1917 the Havelock Standard reported that Private Hubble arrived home the previous Saturday morning after having been wounded fighting at front during the Battle of the Somme. After spending a few days at home, Pte Hubble was off to Toronto for further treatment.

As I wrote earlier in Wounded in Action, wounded soldiers deserve the best treatment. No longer are wounded soldiers withheld pay while recovering in hospital. Ross's mention of looking up the 93rd battalion after convalescence indicates that many soldiers wish to remain active in the service despite being wounded. The 93rd never saw action as a formed unit, and probably trained individual recruits for reinforcements in active battalions. In todays army, Pte Hubble would probably have been accomodated in such a unit. Ross's letter, more than being a sobering insight into family history, is a reminder that our generation is not the first to face the question of treating wounded veterans, and that our economic, military and technological advances must be matched with advances in compassion and fairness.

Wounded in Action

The Bourque.org site has been a favourite news site of mine since I was an undergrad in Ottawa. Since that time, I have checked that site virtually every day of my electronic existence. As online news becomes more and more robust, Bourque's site gets better and better. However, Bourque has a penchant for sensationalizing his headlines. He likes to do this in accordance with his editorial policy, which can only be inductively derived because he does not publish editorial comment.

For example, Bourque is obviously not a fan of Stéphane Dion. Try and find a positive headline about Dion on Bourque's website...

Recently, Bourque posted a link to an article about DND wanting to accomodate badly wounded veterans from Afghanistan and keeping them in the army. His headline had DND "recycling badly wounded soldiers" as though we were going to send disabled veterans back out onto the front lines. To his credit, Bourque replaced this misleading headline with a much more accurate version. However, I think everyone should know what DND is doing to accomodate wounded veterans of the Afghan intervention.

A short history of Universality of Service

I was working as the assistant operations officer for an infantry battalion a little while back, and we took on a soldier who had been wounded in Afghanistan on duty. He had been wounded in the foot by a mine blast, and the road to recovery would be long. The chain of command had taken this soldier under its protection. They had brought him to Quebec City, away from his normal posting out West, so that he could be near his family. They gave him a desk job so that he could be reintegrated into the service, keep his self-respect, and continue seeking treatment in order to return (hopefully) to full duty in the course of time. I came to know this soldier. I learned that in the face of adversity and with the support of his comrades and chain of command, the challenges were no match for this young soldier. Despite being quite badly wounded, he would be alright.

Soldiers have always needed to be fit. When the services were recruiting for the world wars, some rather stringent physical standards were applied. In fact, in hindsight, the standards seem rather quaint. These standards were slow to change, as most standards are, because the people who joined met the standards, and it is the same people who kept the standards in place. Of course, even such standards can evolve. Such evolution can take place because of advances in medical understanding, but the greatest change has been a result of legislation. The coming into force of the Canadian Human Rights Act in 1985 forced changes to CF medical and fitness standards. Instead of enforcing rigid (and admittedly arbitrary) medical standards based on the square-jawed 20 year old male athlete, the military has been forced over the years to focus its standard on justifiable, reasonable tasks that soldiers must be able to accomplish. This battle has been fought out in the courts, not just between the Canadian Forces and soldiers but between unions, employees and employers across the country. The CHRA requires that any discrimination based on disabilities be tied to a bona fide occupational requirement (ie. a construction worker must be able to lift a 2 x 4, swing a hammer, and whistle at nearby women). Over 20 year of case law, the CF has had to defend its standards in court, and thus refine its policies to come into line with the CHRA and the case law precedents that have resulted.

Thus the CF has been required to change its medical standards to become actual fitness standards tied to the performance of realistic battle tasks that any soldier could be called upon to accomplish in an emergency. The Universality of Service Policy, updated a year ago states that:

"The principle of universality of service or "soldier first" principle holds that CF members are liable to perform general military duties and common defence and security duties, not just the duties of their military occupation or occupational specification. This may include, but is not limited to, the requirement to be physically fit, employable and deployable for general operational duties."

It is in this context that the return of soldiers wounded in action from Afghanistan (or elsewhere) is problematic for the policy. Those of us who are soldiers feel that those who are wounded in action are the most deserving of keeping their jobs. They must be accomodated with the utmost respect.

The CF's intent is to accomodate wounded veterans while maintaining universality of service. While this inevitably creates a kind of double-standard, it is one that is justified. It means that we will do everything administratively possible to keep soldiers wounded in action. Failing that, these soldiers will be considered as priority candidates for Public Service jobs, in accordance with recent changes to public service employment regulations.

As much as soldiers need to be fit to fight when necessary, the Canadian public and the Canadian Forces demand compassion for wounded veterans. Given the relatively small numbers (compared to past World Wars), the CF can afford to accomodate these soldiers and thank them for their sacrifice.

The History and Death of an Iconic Chainsaw

As the observant reader may have gathered from my Damage and Disaster at Don's Dock, I have a history with chainsaws. In fact, the chainsaw was an iconic instrument of my budding teenagehood. The particular chainsaw in question was the centre of much of our cottage adventures. Bought 25 years ago soon after my grandfather had purchased some land by the lake in Peterborough, it had helped clear the road and the area where my grandfather built the cottage. It helped cut up the firewood that would heat the cottage during the chilly spring and fall evenings.

The chainsaw became a productive (destructive?) outlet for a grandson who wanted nothing to do with painting outhouses, raking leaves, staining decks, cutting gyprock or moving rocks. If you wanted me to work, give me a chainsaw and point at a tree.

The chainsaw outlived many trees, and even outlived the management at the hardware store where my grandfather bought the saw. Every couple of years, he would return faithfully to the same store, replacing the chain several times and ordering a new guide bar that never came for five years. Just as he could never get the right guide bar ordered, because this chainsaw was apparently a one-of-a-kind saw, he could never get the right size chain. He would thus have to remove one link everytime he replaced the chain.

The Basswood Chainsaw Massacre

One summer, I became paranoically perturbed by the large number of basswood growing up under the telephone lines and throughout the woods. It became apparent to me that the basswood was involved in an insidious plot to suck the life out of the beautiful birches, oaks, and maples of the forest. This plot had to be confounded, and I was the man to do it. I spent whole days walking through the forest, seeking and destroying by chainsaw the young and old basswood, cutting them mercilessly down to suffer the most ignominious disintegration. I could literally hear the rejoicing of the liberated oaks, raining down thanks upon me for my discriminating assault. I look back on the Basswood Massacre as perhaps an excess.

Circa 1996, my mother bought protective leg chaps for the avid chainsawers which we then had to wear whenever she was looking.

After the icestorm of 1998, it helped cut up the many fallen trees that littered the road.

In 2002 when my family thought I was crazy for joining the army because I might get hurt, I avoided mentioning all the ladder and chainsaw action that I had seen on the front lines of cottage duty. That chainsaw was a key player in some of the moments of where I almost died (forthcoming blogpost). The risks we are most afraid of are the far away risks that we don't live everyday. The risks we ignore everyday are no less than the far away ones (for anyone who drives today's highways).

That particular chainsaw was a symbol of my urgent desire to be grown up at the age of 13, swing big tools, and leave a mark. The chainsaw met its end this year, having seized up once and for all. Trading it in for 50$, my grandfather bought a new chainsaw at the exact same store that he had bought it. The circle of life and death of chainsaws continues, much to the dismay of ill-placed softwoods near Bobs Lake. Somehow, that chainsaw had managed to accumulate a meaning to me, and I would have kept it in the cottage museum. The cottage basement houses the museum, where we keep rusted golf clubs, relic bicycles, oddly cut boards and other mementos of past cottage glories.

The king is dead. Long live the king.