Mother Canada – ShakeyJay

Official Art - The Taking of Vimy Ridge, Easter Monday 1917 | Canada and the First World War

On this date, 09 April 1917, 109 years ago, during WW1, the Canadian Corp stormed Vimy Ridge and won the day. But at a great cost. It was one of the few decisive victories of the First World War. And it was Canada’s day. One that enshrined all Canadians that we were indeed a mature nation unto ourselves and unto the world stage.

11,000 casualties, 3500 dead.

Here is a poem I wrote about that battle. Simply titled The Ridge.

The Ridge

Reflections are wise. Their true insight flies
Throughout our minds and forever binds us
To an eternal life that is devoid of strife.
Just peaceful thoughts, not restless, nor caught
Into that web of war, we tread
Pure madness bred our way to be
For as one we brand an ancestral land
As our spirits rise to embrace the sky
And shed away our fears.

Our thoughts of home, as our mothers roam
Among our graves, their faces brave
To the sadness here of men with fear
Yet for our nation’s prayers we died out there.
For our home sweet home, so far away
That knowledge bears as our passion flares
Within our hearts, to love, to shove
Our fears aside and run in stride
To get away from there.

Over top we’d go in whistled floes
That plundered us within gun sight foes.
Such madness…crushed, our brothers flush
With abject fear with those guns so near.
We prayed in silence for our leader’s guidance
For in them we trust, and as Canucks we thrust
So far ahead though we walked with dread.
With that barrage we shudder, our blanket cover,
Oh God we’re scared.

The earth it shakes… please mothers take us
To your arms and away from harm.
We fell in silence, as there’s no pride in violence
We looked ahead for behind ’s our dead.
Their faces seared, no longer feared
Just darkness now with thoughts that bow
To a light that’s gone, forever done.
For now, it seems our passion streams
Are ebbing some for our time has come.

We fought for glory, each life a story
With silent breath we faced cruel death.
Our youthful brash against madness crashed
Into the mud, the cold, the blood.
That Ridge has been a horror scene.
A Ridge that bears our lives and shares
Blood curdling chills, then silence… killed.
And down we go with our cries now still
Just silent prayers to loved ones shared…so far from there.

The death knell rings for our lives and brings
A peace you share from that Ridge out there.
It is peace we pave to our silent graves
With a peace we share in God’s love’s lair.
For we were men of arms, a brotherhood
And beyond that Ridge is your nationhood.
With souls set free our spirits now see
Just peaceful lands and a national brand…
your nation ‘s free!

Yet horrendous loss this madness cost…Canadians!

Please…remember us

Vimy Ridge, France - Canadian Cycling Magazine

Vimy memorial, Arras France.

I never thought I would ever see this place again.

***

Walking along a pathway on the top of the ridge that ran parallel to the memorial grounds, an acute sense of Canadian pride welled up through every bone and cell of my body.

“Charlotte, hold my arm please…tightly. I feel faint. I may fall.”

As we walked along the main pathway toward the back end of the memorial, my emotions began to flood over me. The feeling was overwhelming. I began to hyperventilate. Not out of fear but out of immense pride and sense of patriotism that a young country like Canada could construct such a beautiful tribute to all our countrymen who fought here and died here and have no known graves. It is hard for me to describe but the memorial that is in front of me is unbelievably beautiful.

Ahead of us, two marble pylons rise out of the ashes of this death ridge to grace the heavens. They represent Canada and France, they tell me, reflecting a bond between our two nations of the sacrifices and the hardships experienced during the war. From my vantage point I could already see the plinths that grace the monument: individual carvings of white marble, stone, and steel. From the pamphlet we received they represent shared values of justice, peace, honour, truth, knowledge, and hope. I could almost visualize in my mind an inverted cross that was conceived by the architect in the construction and the situation of the two pylons on a flat extensive and massive base of the memorial itself. I am not sure if that was the intent of the design by the architect but that is what it said to me.

The scene before me took me aback. I did not expect this reaction. The beauty of the monument, the fine lines chiseled forms of the statues caused me to break down and cry with a mixture of tears of joy for the magnificence set before me, but of sorrow and pride for what this represents. Each teardrop symbolizes a friend, or a comrade, a winger perhaps but all soldiers who are not coming home. Friends and colleagues of mine. From all parts of our beautiful country.

And we have only touched upon the entranceway of the monument. I somehow fear how I will react when I see the entire scene.

“Dad, are you okay? You look faint. Do you want to sit down.?”

“No, I am fine sweetie. I will be all right. It is just…it is just…just so emotional for me. I should not have come here.”

Silence between us. I am sure she saw the tear tracks on my flushed face. She held my arm tight.

“I am so proud of you dad. And this place is so powerful in its symbolism. It is so beautiful here yet intensely sacred ground.”

“France gave this land to Canada Charlotte.” I said my voice shaking with emotion that I could barely get out the words. “For us, our nation Charlotte…Canada in perpetuity…forever. I can’t believe it.” I can barely hold back my tears. Looking around I could see veterans of the war fighting back their emotions on seeing this magnificent testimonial to all our comrades who died here and in France and in Belgium.

We climbed the limestone steps and found ourselves on the massive stone and marble base of the monument. Here there were hundreds of people with us, mingling and stopping at various points of observation.

“Look, look over there. At the top Henry.” I heard someone say.

And another: This is unbelievable. Fantastic. The folks back home should see this.”

“The ceremony is being broadcast” I heard another exclaim.

Walking slowly amongst the crowd toward the front of the monument, I could see the broad Douai Plain ahead of us beginning at the bottom of the sloped terrain. At the front side, the Eastern side of the monument, the stone carvings really come to life. They are situated and enmeshed within the marble grain at the top of the twin spires. They represent the values that we fought for: honour, sacrifice, faith, hope. Personally, for me, I never thought of it in those terms. Nor did the lads that signed up with me to go to war. We felt that it was going to be the great adventure of our lives; excitement that we wanted to be part of. Nothing more, nothing less. A great adventure in a country that we never gave much thought to.