What History Forgets...

How desperate does a nation need to become before its leader calls for a National Day of Prayer?

On May 24, 1940, the British needed a miracle. One of the greatest disasters in its history seemed in the making. When France fell to the Germans, the British Army of 350,000 men were hemmed in with their backs to the sea at Dunkirk and no one to save them. The water was too shallow for a Navy rescue. The commander of the British Forces, Lt. General Sir Frederick Morgan, stated that there was no way out, barring a miracle.

Then something happened that has only happened a handful of times.

King George VI (grandfather of our current King Charles) went on the radio to call for the first National Day of Prayer, imploring citizens to plead for divine intervention. You may have seen the iconic photographs of long lineups at London’s Westminster Abbey. Millions flocked into churches to pray, while others prayed from home. Historian Dr. Victor Pearce wrote, “Hardly anybody stayed away. The churches and halls were crammed full and overflows outside were sometimes bigger than the crush inside.”

Britain received its miracle—in fact, several miracles—in the days that followed.

No one could explain how the English Channel remained absolutely calm all the days during which thousands of private boats traveled back and forth, rescuing members of the British Expeditionary Army from the sands of Dunkirk. Had the weather been normal for those few days, the world map would no doubt look much different today.

No one could explain the freak storms that simultaneously grounded most of the German air force. Only a few planes were able to take off, and no one could explain the fog that prevented those few from attacking the civilian vessels in the channel.

No one could explain Hitler’s order, overruling his own generals. Just as his tanks prepared to advance, he ordered to halt the attack and sent his troops in a different direction. This order remained in effect for two days while soldiers were evacuated by civilian boats. Some writers speculated that Hitler had given the order out of a misguided sense of mercy, hoping the British were ready to surrender. The historian Brian Bond stated that few historians now accept that view. In later years, Adolf Hitler lamented that Churchill was “quite unable to appreciate the sporting spirit” in which he’d refrained from annihilating [the] British Expeditionary Force at Dunkirk.

 

No one could explain the apparent immunity of 400 soldiers who rose to their feet after lying face-down in the sand beneath a rain of German ammunition, to discover themselves unhurt. No one could explain the image of their own silhouettes in the sand, surrounded by bullets.

 

338,226 soldiers were successfully evacuated from a seemingly impossible situation. So convinced were the British of the value of prayer that more National Days of Prayer were called in the months and years to follow. Yes, much damage was done and many lives were lost, but those who experienced it would never forget what became known as The Miracle at Dunkirk. Unfortunately, the story has faded from memories and history books. Though you can find numerous YouTube videos about the event, most ignore the call to prayer.

 

While it’s hard to imagine Parliament calling for a national prayer day in 2023, nothing need stop you and me from praying. My Bible tells me the heart of the king is in God’s hands (Proverbs 21:1) and that we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against an unseen world (Ephesians 6:12). Matthew 8 tells me of a Saviour who stops the wind with his words.

 

This Remembrance Day, let’s remember not only those who sacrificed, but those who prayed and the God who hears.

 

Lest we forget.

 

(For a moving, 8-minute video that tells this story far better than I can, CLICK HERE.)

 

 

Memorable Manitobans

For my Remembrance Day post, I researched a few memorable Manitobans with ties to Portage la Prairie who also served in the military. You can find several on the Manitoba Historical Society’s website. I chose three. How many of these names are familiar to you?

Sidney Arthur “Sid” Walmsley

Born in Winnipeg around 1924, Sid Walmsley was raised in London, England. During World War II, he served in the British Army. After returning to Canada, he attended United College and became an ordained minister of the United Church of Canada. He served in parishes throughout rural Manitoba until becoming chaplain at MDC in Portage. There, he received awards for his teaching, curriculum development, and editing of an international journal on mental development. He also served as a member of the Royal Society of Health.

An avid thespian, Sid was a founding member of both the Virden Dramatic Society and the Prairie Players of Portage la Prairie, and cofounder, with his wife Dorothy, of Candlelight Productions. He received two Canadian playwrighting awards, served on the Board of Directors of the Canada Arts Council, and taught theatre courses. He helped form the Portage Arts Council in 1977. In recognition of his community service, he received the Queen Elizabeth II Golden Jubilee Medal.

Sid Walmsley died in Portage la Prairie on October 28, 2003. Friends remember him as a passionate man who inspired those around him.

Ian A. MacKenzie

Born in 1923 at Fort William (now Thunder Bay), Ontario, Ian MacKenzie came to Portage la Prairie during World War II as a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force. Following his military discharge in 1946, he returned to Portage and joined Wilford Vopni in ownership of the Graphic Liberal Printing Company, publishers of the Portage Daily Graphic and Portage Leader. They later purchased the MacGregor Herald and Neepawa Press. In 1970, Ian purchased full interest in Vopni Press Limited and served as president and publisher until 1989. He also served as president of the Canadian Weekly Newspapers Association and of the Manitoba Community Newspapers Association. Ian was also the well-loved Mayor of Portage la Prairie from 1999 until 2005.

Ian MacKenzie died in Portage la Prairie on December 30, 2014. Those who knew him remember him as a gentleman and a gifted, gracious speaker.

George Perry Armstrong

Born in Carman, Manitoba on January 30, 1885, George Armstrong received his education from the University of Manitoba, graduating with a medical degree in 1911. He practiced in Alberta for four years before joining the Canadian Expeditionary Force (CAMC) in 1915. He transferred to the RAMC in England and was attached to the 15th Royal Scots (34th Division) as Medical Officer. After serving at the Somme in 1916, he was awarded the military cross, then served in Mesopotamia.

In 1919, Armstrong came to Portage la Prairie where he went into medical partnership with Dr. Hassard. He served as a member of the British, Canadian, and Manitoba Medical Societies as well as numerous charitable organizations. He died on May 5, 1952, and was buried in Hillside Cemetery. Armstrong Street in Portage la Prairie commemorates him.

Will your name appear on a list of “Memorable Manitobans” one day? Proverbs 22:1 says, “A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.” (NIV)

To Any Length

In his 1976 collection, Six War Years, 1939-1945: Memories of Canadians at Home and Abroad, author Barry Broadfoot shares hundreds of stories from those years that you won’t hear in novels or movies. He recorded, verbatim, anonymous interviews with every-day Canadians after asking them one simple question: “What did you do in the war?”

Their admittedly one-sided stories, told with language far more colorful than I’m accustomed to, are as varied as they are interesting—from fellows who enlisted just for the free boots to women who signed up in order to follow their soldier boyfriends overseas, to men who married only to avoid the draft. Such is the story of one Manitoban named Tom.

Tom’s farmer father needed Tom’s help to keep the farm afloat. Often in this case, a young man would receive a deferment from service because growing food was vital to the country’s defense. But if a family had two sons, one was sure to be marched off to do his duty, at least on the home front.

Tom’s father had three sons, all single. The youngest was intellectually disabled, although they wouldn’t have used that term then. His biggest contribution was helping his mother gather eggs. The middle son showed no interest in farming and leaned toward the lazy side, according to the anonymous storyteller. The eldest at 28, Tom would surely be wanted by his country’s military no matter how much his parents might need him on the farm.

One evening while the family sat around after dinner listening to the news on the radio, they heard the announcement that all single men would be called up the next day. Tom’s only chance of avoiding conscription would be to get hitched by midnight.

Well, Tom had been taking a friend named Gwendolyn to dances—a nice girl, but, in the storyteller’s words, “plain as a mud fence.” Tom’s sister called Gwendolyn and told her to be standing by the gate when Tom arrived. Then Tom, along with his brother and sister, picked up Gwendolyn and headed down the road to Shoal Lake. It was nine p.m. by the time they discovered the preacher out for the evening. They drove to Hamiota. The minister there, knowing what game they were playing, refused to marry them.

Time was running out. Backtracking to Binscarth, they woke up a policeman to find out where the preacher lived. The ruckus at their door awakened the preacher and his wife. Tom yanked out a ten-dollar bill and told the minister, “You get this business over with in ten minutes, before midnight, and I’ll double this.”

The preacher grabbed his book, tore through the ceremony, and completed the paperwork. All parties signed it with ten minutes to spare. The minister, twenty bucks richer, saved Tom’s hide.

I have no idea how Tom and Gwendolyn’s marriage turned out, but folks in the community allegedly saw Tom as a bit of a hero for racing around those country roads late at night and outsmarting the government by evading the draft.

Canadian historian Jack Granatstein (author of Who Killed Canadian History?)
wrote, “no single issue has divided Canadians so sharply” as the military draft. Given the current issues dividing our citizens, I can’t help wondering if Granatstein, now 82, still feels the same.

Lest we forget.

FOR THE EXERCISE

I wrote this piece immediately following the 2019 Remembrance Day Community Service in my home town. Little did any of us know what the following year would bring.

It’s a cold day, but sunny. I decide to walk. That way, I can kill two birds with one stone—show my gratitude to veterans while also getting my daily exercise. Sure, I could drive instead. But the congestion leaving the island afterwards will make the walk worth it. Win-win.

I arrive early and find a seat on the end of a row for a quick getaway. I decide I won’t allow myself to get emotional this year. Becoming emotional is too draining and I have goals for the rest of my day.

The place begins to fill, and I move to the middle of the row so folks won’t need to climb over my knees. Within minutes, I am joined by my friends Oege and Ineke Boersma, who take the seats to my left. A few minutes later another friend, Ferdi Van Dongen, sits on my right.

“I think I’m in the wrong row!” I joke, suddenly surrounded by Dutch immigrants.

While we wait for the service to begin, Ineke tells me how she was born only four days after the Germans invaded Holland on May 10, 1940. Her father was away, driving ambulance at the front lines. Her mother gave birth at home, with a midwife. I try to imagine how frightening it would be for a young woman to deliver a child into a country occupied by enemy forces, her husband not around.

Ferdi tells me he was also born at home with a midwife. His birth came nearly twenty years after Ineke’s, but his parents’ memories of the war are similar to hers. Both families hold great respect and gratitude toward the Canadian soldiers who liberated their country.

“Dad always said without the Canadians and Americans stepping in, we’d be in Siberia now,” Ferdi says.

Ineke agrees, although her parents always thought they’d have ended up in Poland.

I ask Ferdi if his parents’ appreciation for Canada is what inspired him to come here, and he says it probably did.

A few minutes later, we stand together to sing O Canada. I listen to these naturalized citizens of my beautiful country belt out the anthem with gusto. I sing, too. Not being a sports enthusiast, I have few opportunities to sing it anymore.

But when we reach the line, “God keep our land glorious and free,” my voice stops cooperating. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ferdi raise his hand ever so slightly. I know that for him, the words are not merely sentimental lyrics, but a heart-felt prayer to the only One who can truly keep our country either glorious or free. The lump in my throat prevents me from singing.

Later, we watch the Silver Cross Mother, Jane MacKay, make her way forward to lay a wreath at the cenotaph. Jane’s son, Master Corporal Timothy Wilson, died in a vehicle accident in Kandahar in 2006. My heart goes out to her in a way it has not done in the past. Perhaps that’s because the older I get, the younger the Silver Cross Mothers seem to be and therefore, the easier to identify with. She’s on my mind through the remainder of the service.

On my walk home, I reflect on all these things. The air is cold. It’s Canada, after all. We know about cold air. We sometimes wonder why so many from warmer climates flock to this country. And then we remember. We remember that we don’t know what it’s like to live with invading countries taking over our homes, schools, churches, farms. We don’t know how it feels to be denied the freedom to participate in a public ceremony or to walk home afterwards in fear of arrest.

I hear a friend call my name as she rolls down her car window and asks if I want a ride, but I decline.

I need the exercise.

 

 

Keepsakes of Conflict

In my ongoing quest for details that might spark my next set-in-Manitoba historical novel, I took myself to the Ft. la Reine museum to see the exhibit currently on display. It’s called Keepsakes of Conflict: Trench Art and Other Canadian War-Related Craft. Trench art is any item made by soldiers, prisoners of war or civilians, using war material, provided they are associated with armed conflict or its consequences. This exhibition interprets the human aspect of war, and how conflict affects us mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

Those who’ve never lived through a war might wonder why on earth anyone would want souvenirs from the horrors of conflict. This exhibit sheds light on some of the possible reasons. Many of the objects, like napkin rings and letter openers, speak to a life of refinement. They represent hope that life will be good and decent and civilized once again. Shell casings and bullets used to create works of art also reveal a soldier’s need to share his experiences with others. The uncomfortable quality of these pieces reminds us of the sacrifices made. Creating a beautiful vase from an instrument of death points out our need for transformation on so many levels.

 During World War II, 34,000 German soldiers were housed in prison camps across Canada. Their guards purchased or traded with prisoners for their craft items such as carved wooden boxes, canes, picture frames, ships in bottles or light bulbs, drawings and cartoons. In contrast, Canadian soldiers held captive by German forces had no such resources for self-expression. They turned anything they might get their hands on into something necessary for survival.

 You’ve probably heard of craft therapy for victims of PTSD. This idea is not new, as many wounded veterans recovering in hospitals during and after the war created wicker work, embroidery, wooden furniture and toys, metalwork and the like. Creativity can help heal all kinds of trauma. Wounded soldiers were the first to hand-cut red poppies used to commemorate Remembrance Day.

 The shocking contrast of this artwork reveals much about human nature. We have never learned to get along, to rise above destroying one another. Yet, made in the image of our Creator, we also long for beauty, redemption, transformation, and healing.

 Did you ever wonder why Christians choose the cross, a gruesome device of torture and death, to wear as jewelry or decorate our homes and churches? The symbol remains significant in much the same way as the war art. When Jesus was nailed to a rugged Roman cross, he fought the most significant battle ever: the war for our souls. 

 The enemy thought the cross was his own greatest victory. Jesus turned it into Satan’s greatest defeat. Christ’s triumph came three days later when he conquered death, clearing the way for us to live lives of redemption and transformation. The cross becomes beautiful because of the great reversal Christ accomplished there.

 Keepsakes of Conflict will be at the Ft. la Reine Museum until November 15, so this weekend is your chance to see it. This time of year, the museum is open Friday through Sunday only, 11:00 am until 3:00 pm. While you’re there, you will want to tour the whole place, so go early. Regular adult tickets cost $10 but if you’re a student or over sixty, it’s only $8. Children five to twelve get in for $5 and under four get in free. If that all adds up to more than $25 for your family, you’ll want the daily family pass instead.

 Lest we forget.