VICKI ROBERTSON:Making a difference
CBC News Viewpoint | Feb. 28, 2006
Vicki Robertson grew up in the Halifax area, with close ties to the military. After traveling for many years, Vicki and her husband Alan settled in Bedford, Nova Scotia. While working full-time in the IT industry, she satisfies her curiosity about life and her love of education by attending Mt. Saint Vincent University as a part-time student.
At a post-election ceremony, the mention in the incoming Conservative platform of a stronger military with new equipment and more troops made Gen. Rick Hillier school-girl giddy. Now, Defence Minister Gordon O'Connor has pledged to make good on that promise by increasing the regular forces strength by 20 per cent. However, we need 13,000 volunteers to fill the ranks.
According to Statistics Canada, we have more than four million men and women between the ages of 20 and 29. Sounds promising, but Hillier stopped giggling when he discovered the competition is stiff. He's at a loss to understand why Canadians aren't lining up to join.
The military offers the same benefits as most employers. The pay for a first-year private is $29,052, about average for any Canadian starting in a trade. Recruits in the U.S. make much less, but with the perks – housing and university tuition – the incentive is huge. They also get to play with shiny new machines. However, the U.S. military has something else we don't have: a brand.
"Be all that you can be" and "a few good men" are all familiar, even to Canadians. What do we have? "Duty with honour," along with four used subs, two aging supply ships, a handful of destroyers and old helicopters. In the war of public relations, the military is losing the battle: Canadians consider our military a joke.
O'Connor promises that the military is going to get new equipment, but this isn't the kind of gear Wal-Mart keeps on the shelf. It will be a good decade before we see any of it. And there are no guarantees: This is a minority government and already the Liberals are saying the transformation is going to cost more than the Conservatives claim. Meanwhile, recruits will be wondering why the helicopters they're flying in are older than their parents.
Is this our field of dreams? Build it, and they will come?
Maybe not. We need more than oversized Tonka toys and geeky gadgets to rebuild our military. The greatest military assets we have are the men and women who volunteer despite knowing they may end up in Afghanistan or some other war-torn country. For them, military service is no laughing matter. It's deadly serious.
The military of my youth was far different from today's. I grew up in married quarters, where every neighbourhood kid understood what NATO exercises meant – dad was going away in January and we would see him in May. The ships would quietly slip out of port for their months-long voyages, and sail back to private celebrations. Today, we see headlines when a few ships leave for a three-week exercise off the East Coast.
Even though there was little media attention, many of us wanted to sign up as soon as we were of age. It was a way of life – the only one we knew. Military service was respected. The camaraderie on the ships extended to the playground. We were a community. We supported each other. We pitched in wherever we were needed – babysitting, mowing lawns, shovelling driveways. And we learned by example.
I remember a drive over a bridge that spans Halifax harbour with my dad. I was about 10 years old at the time, and I was just grasping the concept of the Cold War. I asked him what would happen if real hostilities broke out. "Would you have to go?" I asked tentatively.
"Yes, I would have to go."
"But what if something happened to you?"
Dad struggled with the words, but he knew he couldn't dodge the question. "Something could happen, but I signed up to protect our country."
"Couldn't you just get out of the Navy instead?"
"No."
I was hurt. Then he added: "Imagine if everyone did that. We wouldn't have much of a military."
I got it. He couldn't be selfish and neither could I. There was an awkward silence in the car as I peered out over the dockyard brimming with warships. But at that moment, I realized that it takes a special person to be in the military – selfless, dedicated and strong.
It wasn't until I was 16 and my father had retired that I discovered how little was known "on the outside" about military life. Apparently, we were called Navy brats – as if we were spoiled. But we did have something other kids didn't – independence and strength, along with enormous pride in our parents who served. They were our heroes. They still are today.
Dartmouth's Shannon Park was my home, but now it's cordoned off like a toxic waste dump and Halifax's military families are scattered.
It seems the concept of military housing is a hard sell these days. And while formal support resources have been put in place for the families, the sense of community is not the same.
Except in Afghanistan. The story of Namatullah, the little boy with terminal cancer, exemplifies the military that I remember, and what it means to be a community. The efforts of some very special people are beyond heart-warming – they're life changing.
In one little boy's very short life, these men and women are doing what they promised – making a difference and being someone's hero. Now that's a brand.
