Farewell to a fallen soldier

This morning I attended a funeral for a fallen Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan about 10 days ago by an IED (improvised explosive device).  He had only been in Afghanistan for 3 weeks.

I’d crossed paths with this young man very briefly about five years ago.  He was a big strapping young man, a mere 26 years old when he died.  He’d been a security guard where I’d worked.  Larry was 6’6″ tall with rosy cheeks and red hair as I recall, and he was very amiable and happy to help anyone he could, known as a gentle giant by many.

His death is such a waste.

I’m not sure how the other countries involved in the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts bury their war dead, but here in Canada, or at least in our home town, we honour them, first with a repatriation ceremony when they land at Trenton Air Force Base, then along the ‘Highway of Heros’ when their remains are returned to their families, and then in their hometowns.

We had to park several blocks away as many of the streets were temporarily closed for the funeral procession.  I teared up when I heard ‘Amazing Grace’ being played on bagpipes when they carried the flag draped casket from the funeral home.  Many individuals from our fire department, in full dress uniform, saluted the casket as it passed, then fell into the procession from the funeral home today, following the military representatives, his family and friends, and various other representatives.  The casket was pulled on a gun carriage by a small tank, from the funeral home to the cenotaph about 5 blocks away where another ceremony was held.   The fire department had raised, at half mast, an absolutely massive Canadian flag from the cherry picker of one of  its fire trucks parked near the funeral home.  The trees on the street where the procession was held were adorned with yellow ribbons.

Two years ago another man from this town was killed in Iraq or Afghanistan, I can’t remember which.  His send off was with similar fan fare.  I’d taken my camera that day which just happened to be my birthday, and stood along another street here, and watched as his remains were accompanied by the military and his mourners to his final resting place in the soldiers’ plot of one of our cemeteries where many of our veterans from the world wars are buried.  I didn’t feel comfortable taking the pictures then, although many people were doing so also, as I felt I was intruding on something so private and personal.  Today, I left my camera at home, but I wish you could have seen it.  Being there really drove home the true cost of war.

As I watched each funeral procession, I was overcome with a feeling of sadness, not only for the loss of their lives and their families, but also for all of the soldiers that left the bosoms of  their families and were killed overseas during the world wars.  Because of the sheer number of casualties during the world wars, it was impractical to return the remains of each fallen soldier, and so those men and women were buried in foreign lands, and their families were denied the closure of a proper funeral.

My own son is nearly 19.  As a mother, I cannot fathom sending him off to war as so many did back then, and continue to do so even today.

I’m not sure that I agree with my country’s presence in Afghanistan.  It is a topic that is frequently debated in and outside of our parliament buildings.  Our country is not directly threatened by the Taliban, or the country of Afghanistan.   Our freedom and way of life here is not in jeopardy, but perhaps that makes the sacrifices of Larry and our other soldiers stationed there, all the more heroic and unselfish, similar to someone who runs into a burning building to save a stranger when they have nothing to gain themselves in doing so.  I hope the Afghan people appreciate the efforts and sacrifices our people are making for them.

R.I.P. Larry…