How Do You Use a Moment of Silence?

On Remembrance Day, at the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month, we take a minute of silence, usually between the playing of “The Last Post” and “Reveille”.  This is a moment to remember the sacrifice of those who have served our nation in war and paid the ultimate price. 

But, what are you supposed to do in that minute?  The human brain can think of a lot in one minute. How do you use that time?

When I was a boy, I didn’t really know what to do during that minute.  I thought a little bit about what our teachers had told us about Remembrance Day, and some images of war passed through my mind.  I thought of people signing a paper for peace on a train in a forest in France.  I looked at my Grandfather’s medal.  My Mother would sometimes let me pin it on and sometimes take it to school (he was awarded it for fighting the Bolsheviks in Poland in 1919-1921).  I thought about him being shot twice (once in the hand, and once in the leg), and wondered what that might have been like.  Then I would look around at the other kids and wonder what they were thinking about.  I would wonder how much of the minute of silence was left.  I would wonder what else to do.  I might look at the flag.  I might look at the teacher. I would wonder if I was thinking about what I was supposed to be thinking.  Maybe I was supposed to think of nothing, as if I was dead?  Sometimes I would think about what it was like to be a soldier.  I would wonder again how much time was left in the minute of silence, and feel a bit guilty, as I was sure I was not supposed to be thinking about that. 

When I was a bit older, I had more of an idea of what I should be thinking about.  I would spend more of that minute thinking about soldiers leaving home, and never returning.  I would think about battles, and uniforms and soldiers and marching.  I would think about the pictures of the military cemeteries and all those identical gravestones.  I still did not feel the full weight of the thought that each one of those stones represented one person, one life that was gone, that was given.  I did think about the dates on those stones, and ages of those soldiers, and try to wrap my mind around the fact that they stopped having birthdays, they stopped getting older, that everything for them just… stopped.  That is what they say in the poem – “They shall not grow old”.  Those words hit me a bit harder, in my teenage mind.  I still would look at the other people in the minute of silence, and wonder what they were thinking.  Was I thinking of the right things?  I would marvel at just how much I could think of in one minute.  I would wonder how much time was left.  Then I would think again about those soldiers not growing old. 

When I became a soldier, I became part of an infantry regiment.  That regiment had been places and fought battles.  That regiment was made up of people from my local area that had gone off to fight.  I saw our memorials, and the names of those who served in the same regiment as me, who never came home.  I read our regiment’s history, and I knew about the battles that it had been in.  I then met veterans who had been in my regiment, and could talk about those battles first hand, and could talk about friends they had lost.  That is what I would think about when I was a young soldier during the minute of silence. 

My family had a very close friend who was very proud of me joining the Army.  When I became an Officer, I visited this family friend, and we had many long talks.  He was an American who came to Canada in 1940, when World War II was a year old, and still a year before his country would enter it.  He had friends in England who had been fighting for a year, and he was growing frustrated that he could not help the cause.  So he found a way, as many Americans did at that time, by coming north and joining the Canadian Army.  He became an Infantry Officer, and led a platoon in combat in France, Belgium, Holland and Germany.  He was wounded in action, recovered, and fought until victory.  He was awarded the Military Cross for patrolling across the river Maas in the winter of 1944/45, taking command of the patrol when his Company Commander was wounded, and taking some prisoners along the way.  He gave me the diary he kept during the war.  I have read it several times.  Once, when I was sitting at his desk, he pointed out a small piece of memo paper stuck under the glass covering the desktop.  It had seven names he had handwritten on it. These were the names of the seven soldiers that were killed when they were under his command.  He told me he read those names every day.  All these things were added to what I think about during the minute of silence.

  

Now, in my mid 40’s, having commanded my Regiment and (reluctantly) retired from service, I have even more to think about in the minute of silence on Remembrance Day.  Now I personally know soldiers who have died (too young) in service to our county.   I now personally know soldiers who have been wounded.  I don’t just have photos and names.  I have memories of being with them, conversations with them, laughing and joking with them, training with them, soldiering with them.  They were friends. 

I think about them in the moment of silence.  I also still look around at the other people during the moment of silence, and wonder what they are thinking about.  It doesn’t matter what.  I’m just glad that so many people are remembering in their own way, and that we are remembering all together.   

I don’t know what else will be added to my thoughts during the minute of silence in the future.  I hope it’s not more names and faces, whether I knew them or not. 

We Shall Remember Them.

Dedicated to :

Master Corporal John William Ternapolski  (March 25, 1993 – Kiseljak, Bosnia)

Major Paeta Derek Hess-Von Kruedener MSC CD (July 25, 2006 – Patrol Base Khiam, Lebanon)

Warrant Officer Gaétan Joseph Francis Maxime Roberge CD (December 27, 2008 - Southern Afghanistan)

Captain Harrison K. Bird MC

-- CR