A grateful son
It seems like Remembrance Day is a fitting time as my father was a veteran of WWII. In the late 1930s my father (Joseph) completed a six year leather working apprenticeship and was transferred out of Moravia Czechoslovakia his native home to Calcutta India, where he was working when the war broke out. I have included a clipping from a local paper of the day as to how it came to be that my father joined the allied forces. When the war was over my father returned to his home land, taking with him a number of American dump trucks with hydraulics, which in the next few years would become major assets in rebuilding of the Czechoslovakian infrastructure. This did not last long as the Russians invaded and the country was nationalized. My father not wishing to live under the communist rule was able to reconnect with secret service personnel he worked with during the war and through them obtained money, guns, and a route to cross the Czech border into Germany. Upon his arrival in Germany he was placed in a DP (displaced persons) camp where he ended up staying for six months before being sponsored out and making his way to England. He tried again to restart the trucking in England but the government of the day placed restrictions on the distances you were allowed to travel making it next to impossible to earn a fair wage. In 1951 with his wife and family they sailed to Canada the land of opportunity arriving at Pier 21 in Halifax, Nova Scotia in January of 1952 then by train to Toronto. South eastern Ontario became his new homeland always grateful to Canada the country which adopted him. Joseph passed away at 72 years of age and was buried with his Lieutenants status engraved on the veteran’s head stone. Always in fear of repercussions Joseph never retuned to his homeland, the closest he came was Berlin where he visited the fallen Berlin Wall and removed a small strand of barbed wire; this was representative of what happened to his country and why he fought passionately with the allied forces. Over the years my parents would drive across the country heading for Ministikwan lake usually to help build on the house or do some landscaping, always working never really taking time to kick back other than canoeing certainly not fishing. Several years before he passed away with a little prompting I finally got him to give fishing an honest try. It wasn’t long until he landed the first walleye and he was hooked big time. Fishing everyday became the norm; if they were out in the community visiting he would take his leave and be home ready for the evening bite. Recently we spread my mother’s ashes in my father’s favourite fishing spot here on Ministikwan Lake; perhaps now reuniting in death they will once again be complete. Had it not been for my fathers desire for freedom and courage to act I would not be here today, I am eternally grateful to my father and legions of men who so bravely fought to allow us to live the way we do today. On this Day of Remembrance. Lest we Forget. |
