My Grandfather the Hero Making Rememberance Day mean something Brandon Ferguson, Opinions Editor It was the grade 11 assembly that first got me. As per annual tradition, grainy black and white footage of war heroes spilling over bunkers and killing other soldiers was shown, prayers were hummed, songs were sung, and tragically interpretive dance was had. Yet another Remembrance Day assembly where we wasted a half- day sitting cross-legged in the gym for a memorial that seemed more intended for pot smoking than to be thought provoking. Beyond the poppies, moment of silence, and afternoon off, was there any real point to this? Somewhere between the black and white film images and the hairy armpits of a criminally bad dance troupe, it hit me: if not for my grandfather’s roll-of-the- dice wartime life, I wouldn’t be here. Beyond the burning question of whether Erika from chemistry class liked me or like-liked me, this was the first truly unselfish and life adjusting question I’d asked myself: how could I, or my family, be here today if it weren't for my grandfather’s good fortune to survive WWHP Me. My sister. My mother. My uncle. My parents’ marriage. My grandparents’ happiness and life together. All of it hung on this meager thread of happenstance that single-handedly determined the outcome of three generations of people I love. The immensity of the rev- elation hit me like the metaphorical cannons the inter- pretive dancers commanded in the air with their fists- Bang! Crash! Boom! Bang: The sound of my grandfather’s RAF fighter plane being hit by enemy fire over Egypt, his plane los- ing altitude and hope while a new bride waits oblivious- ly yet dutifully at home, a million miles away, knitting baby booties in a Dawson Creek rocking chair. Crash: The sound of my grandfather’s impact upon meeting the desert floor, forever retarding his hopes of a life without pain yet never hindering his lifelong pas- sion of lowering his golf handicap; his whole world lit- erally crashing down and being put back together in an Italian prisoner of war camp. Boom: The sound of German soldiers firing upon my grandfather and the dozens of other POWs who escaped from that prison during the confusion that ensued after the Italian surrender; half of those who attempted the escape were killed as they ran away as fast as their feet could carry them, fleeing up the shoelaces of a most treacherous boot and into an enemy dragnet. In short—because that’s all I ever got from a stoic man who refused to discuss the deaths of brave men, as is the noble wont of that generation—my grandfather was shot down, imprisoned, orchestrated a prison break, lost half his men, survived in Italian farmhouses with the minimal Italian he’d learned in prison, and spent a year slowly traipsing through enemy territory with a screwed up back to get back to allied forces and, ultimately, the woman he loved. On a rainy November day in grade 11, with gay dance and reasons to skip school abound, it hit me like a bunker buster bomb: I wasn’t lucky to be alive; I was obscenely lucky to be born. My grandfather’s tale is remarkable to me but hardly uncommon—everyone who enlisted for the Great Wars has similar tales of heroism and loss. Perhaps that’s why he shared it so rarely. Papa Ray passed away five years ago now, and with him went his stories. He and 1.1 million Canadians will- ingly risked their lives—and those of every unborn gen- eration to follow—to save the world from imperial rule and ideological tyranny. I can’t even begin to grasp the noble madness that compels one to risk it all for count- less unknown others, but I have been given a lifetime to think it over. For all those who have served: thank you. Left Overs continued: trom page 8 the Liberal’s worst nightmare. How so? No new damning evidence came out; all their current bigwigs are clean; Pauly gets off Scot-free; sounds good to me. And it is. The Liberals have once again been flirting with majority Editorial Cartoon by JJ Mc Cullough IRANIAN PRESIDENT CALLS FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF ISRAEL government numbers in the polls. As such, it would almost be worth- while for them to allow a winter election, as they would almost cer- tainly take it. Why aren’t they? They want to maintain the image that they are doing what is best for Canada. Spin? Yes. Are they corrupt? Probably. Do they deserve another term? I don’t think so. But, as most Canadians realise, are they better than the Conservatives? Oh my yes. New Democratic Party: Captain hardball himself, Jack Layton, has continued to use the minority situation to his advantage. By propping up the Liberal gov- ernment he has made a few friends on the government side of the house and a whole butt-load of enemies on the opposition side. As opposition days approach, and the possibility of triggering an Xmas election looms, Jack has said he needs time to consider the NDP position. He has, however, given the Liberals a chance to buy the NDP’s support by looking at issues like the environment, health care, pensions, and—gasp—ethics! That will be a hard pill to swallow, but good on Dr. Layton for filling out that prescription. Like them or not, the NDP is making serious waves in parliament and may be the only party really pushing for issues that matter to Canadians right now. potential.