Editor's note: This lovely poem was written by the mother of North Bay's David Thompson in 1975 after her father's passing. The small town she mentions is Lennoxville Quebec. This is her first-hand memory of WWll and her dad's war experience. We thought you might like to read it, given how close we are to Remembrance Day last week.
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REMEMBRANCE OF REMEMBRANCES
Oh, how I remember, with my Father by my side
Talking about the war, and then how he cried.
As a boy he joined to fight and went across the sea,
But a man he came back and always a soldier to be.
And as November 11th rolled around, to our house each year,
The facts to us, were always made very clear.
When we got older, we sold poppies from door to door,
To help the dependents of those taken by the war.
With Papa’s boots all polished, and buttons and medals shined,
We left for the service, with a sombre state of mind.
He led the parade, with his sword, by his side,
We marched behind with a sort of pride.
As bands played, and then the flags at half mast,
We eventually gathered at our little town cenotaph.
I can still see him standing, erect and straight,
With tears in his eyes, as he remembered his lost mate.
He always said that another war we would see,
Yes, he was right, and soon we know that to be.
That day that war was declared, how well I remember!
Sadness fell upon our house, the third day of September.
By a mere flip of fifty cents with a fellow man,
My father lost, but really not, for to Hong Kong they would send his friend.
This other soldier, to be captured with great despair,
And forever suffer and remember this awful nightmare.
But to good Old Scotland Papa went, far across the sea,
Followed by my brother, to fight and keep us free.
Classmate after classmate dropped out to become a recruit,
Old friends and new friends soon were to follow suit.
We wrote letters and sent parcels too,
Kept busy and prayed, that is all we could do.
Then six years later on May 8th 1945,
The war was over, and many came back alive.
But there were thousands who died, to keep us free.
They gave their life for you, and you, and also me.
God brought my father safely back and my brother too,
We were so very happy, we really didn't know what to do.
So once again on the eleventh of November
We observed the silence and gathered to remember.
The years went by, but always one day in the fall,
We talked of the wars and remembered them all.
Then my hero soldier died, one year in May,
And the Last Post was played, there where he lay.
Time and Time again, I can often hear him say,
“Old soldiers never die, they simply fade away.”
E. Geneva Thompson
