Sunday 11 November 2018

Remembrance Day and the Young Farmer




Today is Remembrance Day.

It is a day where Canadians, and citizens from many other nations throughout the world, reflect on the fallen soldiers who have given their lives in The Great War and all the wars and conflicts since the war that was supposed to end all wars.

I'm fortunate that I work in a field where i'm reminded of these sacrifices and tragedies on a nearly daily basis.  I feel like today is a good day to maybe share a story or two with whoever else wishes to listen.

I get to care for and hear stories from people who lived through wars as far back as World War 2.  At least from the ones who actually want to talk about it.  Many understandably don't.




There is one man who flew Spitfires.  He doesn't talk about it but every time I see the dated photo of him with his flight gear and medals I point out how incredible that is and he just gives a proud smile. 

His wife however has no qualms about doting on her husband and making darn sure that everyone who comes near her husband knows what a hero he is and that he deserves nothing but the best.

She can be crass, rude, demanding and difficult.  She is a tough old lady.  From a tough time.  She is pretty fantastic and I have no problem doing whatever I can to make her and her husband feel appreciated for what they went through.  Because they do deserve it.







I've got stories of people who flew bombers, manned subs, were in the trenches, were in shelters in the bombings of Britain,  and even came back from the relatively recent conflicts in Afghanistan. 

However there is one story of note that was actually told from somebody who was a civilian in WW2.  Actually a young adolescent Italian who lived in a very small farming village in Italy who later immigrated to Canada to raise a family and eventually come under my care. 

This story takes place right around the time the Italians surrendered and joined the Allied forces and the German subsequent occupation of Italy.



This young farmer, and his small village of Caspoli, were in a very unfortunate location.  It was a strategic location that was not only a main passage that connected important parts of Italy but it was also ideal to be used as a defensible location due to its valleys and mountains.

The Germans knowing that the Allied forces would eventually be coming through the area decided to hunker down, dig trenches, and construct bunkers in the mountains overlooking the valleys.  In doing so they evacuated my young farmers town as well as appropriated anything of strategic value.  Of most importance to my young farmer and his village was food and shelter.

The village hid in caves in the surrounding area and scrounged about for food.  The children would often beg the soldiers to please give them food.  They sometimes did.

Times were clearly desperate.  My young farmer had a family dog.  This dog actually fared quite well.  He was quite good at locating food sources.  This was his unfortunate downfall as he was actually finding other peoples food.  Eventually some of the villagers realized this and came to the young farmers family and out of courtesy told his family what had to be done. 

And it was.

But this would pale in comparison to the misery which was about to unfold.

The Germans knew the Allied forces were coming.  The Allied forces knew they were waiting for them.

From what I understand of other conflicts in this time period, artillery wasn't particularly effective.  It had a certain shock and awe factor to be sure, but when it came to effectively hitting small concealed targets it proved to be ineffective. 

As such when the Allied forces advanced on the heavily entrenched German fortifications there was an incomprehensible amount of bloodshed.  At least incomprehensible is the state of mind that the man recounting the story had when sharing it with me.  He turned and looked at me with tears in his eyes.  As if he was reliving the moment once more.  He said.  "They just kept coming.  Why did they keep coming.  They saw what was happening.  Why didn't they stop?" 

This poor man, then only a child, witnessed countless soldiers getting mowed down by machine gun fire.  He witnessed soldiers marching into certain doom, following orders, in order to liberate this young farmers country.

Eventually the Allied forces did prevail and the Germans were forced to retreat.  But the destruction did not stop there.

The Germans had no intention of holding this territory, merely causing as much of a hindrance to the Allied forces as possible.  So when they knew that they could not hold the territory any longer they proceeded to utilize their scorched earth doctrine.  Which is a military term which simply means they destroyed everything behind them as they retreated.

The villagers were once more told to stay out of the village and they watched as the Germans laid TNT throughout and blew up his entire village.  There was nothing left after that but the caves where the young farmer and the villagers continued begging for food, this time from friendly soldiers, until the end of the war.

Now i'm sure some of the specifics of this story aren't quite right.  It's a story that I received from an old man recounting a very troubling part of his childhood.   A memory that was so ingrained with him that he was still sharing it decades into his twilight years. He also wrote a small book on his experience which I also read. 

However, while the specifics may not be completely accurate, the tone, feelings, and message of the story is.

Remember, he is recounting his childhood.  My childhood involved Nintendo, sleep overs and extensive tag sessions.

This man's childhood involved watching his family dog be killed, his village, let alone all of his possessions, be completely destroyed, and scores of men who set out to liberate him be killed in front of him.

This to me is what Remembrance day is about.  Being grateful for what we have and cognizant of the sacrifices soldiers and families have made in the past. 


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