Sombre on Easter

It is amazing how ordinary days can turn extraordinary; for better, or for worse. In one simple radio transmission a slow Sunday turns into the worst nightmare of everyone; those in the field, those in the Command Post, and those at home.
It took a few minutes for the reality to set in, that this was no ordinary call for a Medevac helicopter. This was brutally serious. And as the situation would evolve and unfold there is a certain powerlessness that comes with being in a room listening to the radio.
In the aftermath, you can look back and realize that there are defining moments in every situation, and those moments generally revolve around leadership. This moment for me on that day is when 3 Priority E (VSA’s - Vital Signs Absent) turned to 6. There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere in the Command Post. In individual persons, this mood or reaction could be likened to the onset of panic, of doubt, of fear. In a collective perhaps it can be likened to confusion, or distraction, or genuine helplessness. No doubt sensing this 2nd Royal Canadian Regiment Battle Group’s Deputy Commanding Officer, Major Russell King, spoke softly yet strongly, and said simply, “You guys are doing a good job, see it through.” I believe calm and focus returned to everyone in that very moment.

As I made my way back to my room, just after midnight on Easter Sunday there were no glowing faces of the usual late night masses that normally burn up the wireless Internet, chatting and emailing home. Tonight would have been an exceptionally popular night under normal circumstances, but tonight there is no chatting, there is no Internet there is no phones. There are few people out an about. It is very quiet.
There were some of the normal clots and mobs of people hanging out, but they were all subdued, quiet, reflective- sombre.

Tonight on the tarmac, it was hot. There was no breeze even as the sun dropped behind the mountains. There was no respite. We all gathered to send our six comrades home. Emotion is raw, the sorrow is palpable. As we stand again shoulder-to-shoulder-to- shoulder we watch flag draped coffin, after flag draped coffin pass us by. Before, I once spoke of the feeling surging across you in a wave; this time it was wave after wave crashing against us. So relentless and strong is this feeling that I am almost completely numb, save for acknowledging the beads of sweat that course down my back, and the tremble in my arm as I salute my fallen comrades.
I find it funny, in that odd sense of funny, that my thoughts would turn more to those in Canada, than to my colleagues. Maybe this is a natural reaction. As saddened as I am to know that six of my comrades have fallen, I am equally horrified by the thought that someone’s mother, father, spouse, or child, ignorantly prepping the Easter meal, or waking to an Easter egg hunt, or preparing for a pilgrimage to church, have this become the worst Easter ever.

My thoughts turn to my own family then; my boy who is five, and my little girl who will turn 4 in just over a week. How do I teach them about grief, and mourning? How do I reassure them about daddy? As the bagpipe stops and fades away I think to myself I will have to teach them about duty, and compassion, and camaraderie, and loyalty.

In Canada my hope is that reaction and the inevitable tide of media frenzy does not just focus on the body count or raise the trite political questions of commitment. For it was not the decision of any political party that caused the death of these six brave soldiers; it was no faulty planning or consideration of our leadership that killed these Canadian sons. It was a wilful and deliberate act by our enemy; it was a cunning and catastrophic attack.
In its wake should not follow questions of our strategies or second-guessing our “need to be here”; what needs to follow is typical Canadian courage. The same courage and resolve we unconsciously expect from our other Canadian athletes, businessmen, farmers, labourers, citizens, and heroes. For do not forget the soldiers that make up this military are solidly built characters hand hewn from everyday Canadian values: grace, integrity, physical and moral courage, and loyalty.
My hope is that my fellow Canadians do not insult the shining memory of these six young men with political posturing, doubt, and insecurity. I am not talking about blind revenge, or mindless pursuit. I speak of grim yet determined resolve, which does make up the back bone on which our country is erected. The same character and determination we are trying to impart on the innocent civilians of this country.

In some ways I feel like an impostor, discussing and sharing grief that must be eclipsed by the feelings of the close friends and family of H Company, and I mean them no disrespect in doing so. I can do nothing more than relate emotion and events as I see them and experience them. Hopefully through my personal story, the only one I am qualified to tell, I can tell their story.
For all of us when all is said and done, we must remember that; “all gave some, some gave all.” So, in those dark moments to come my heart will stay with the six families equally, and for my fellow soldiers. And on Easter, it is unfortunate, but fitting, to acknowledge the ultimate sacrifice these six soldiers made for the betterment of all; Afghan and Canadian.
Stand Easy Gentlemen, Stand Easy.