- My mother, before she died, told me she thought that I should have become a teacher. In a sense I did - I taught a lot of courses and trained a lot of soldiers in thirty-eight years. I originally joined up for three years, but life has a way of taking off on you.
She lost her husband - my father - when I was four. This was before the great wave of social programs were created for such things. She had to go to night school then go to work. She re-married to a Second World War veteran. My uncles were Second World War and Korea Veterans. Our working class neighbourhood was made up of Second World War veterans from both sides. Her cousin was killed in action during the Second World War. Then her only son - me - joins the regular army, jumps out of airplanes, spends five years in Germany on two hours notice to move in a Cold War that she thought might go hot, and so on.
She was fading when I first deployed to Afghanistan in 2002 and was spared worrying by the time of my second tour to what I like to call "The Sandbox of Sorrow."
What did my mother say when I joined? "It's your life" she said.
In the twenty-four years she lived after I joined, I tried to make it back as often as I could. Still, that would be only about twenty-four months worth. Basically, if you convert that to straight time, I joined at just under twenty two years old and she saw me for two years after that.
When people my age envy my pension, I tell them three things:
1. I payed for it. It was part of a pay and benefits package known to the entire country. There is no secret golden parachute for retiring soldiers.
2. Nothing stopped them from walking into the Recruiting Centre when I did.
3. They got to stay in their home town surrounded by relatives and attending family weddings and funerals. Their support network - and more importantly, their spouse's support network - was right there. I and my wife had no such luxury. This was before the age of the internet, as well, so family news was often slow in coming.
Will your child be killed in action, wounded in action or be captured? Maybe. Maybe not. There are no guarantees in life.
If this seems rather coarse, remember that I am a baby boomer who was raised listening to first-hand accounts of combat in the Great War and the Second World War. I grew up watching the Cuban Missile Crisis on TV, and back then we all thought that we might possibly die in a nuclear war. I am probably part of the last generation of Canadians who knows what an air raid siren test sounds like. I also know what it is like to be five years old and not know that it is a test.
At the moment, statistics are on our side. From 2002 - 2015, Canada has lost more people killed in avalanches than in combat in central Asia.
That might change.
It is a dangerous world, but there must still be hope. After all, families are still having babies.