Never Been to War

I found a treasure while browsing the bookshelves at our local MCC Thrift store recently. 

Compiled by Priscilla Galloway and published in 1999, Too Young to Fight: Memories from our youth during World War II includes reminiscences of twelve writers who were children or teenagers during the war. Many of their contributions include photos. I saw the book as a tremendous research tool for future novels, even though I assumed it was American. I figured many of the stories would cross over.

To my delight, when I took a closer look at home, I discovered it’s a Canadian collection. In fact, one of the contributors, Joy Kogawa, wrote an entire novel based on her experiences as a Japanese Canadian during the war. I recently read that book—Obasan—and mentioned it in a blog post. She refers to war as “state-sanctioned racism,” and for good reason.

I’ve now finished Too Young to Fight, and I can easily imagine some of these real-life stories happening to my fictional characters.

One reason I enjoy writing about the lives of ordinary Canadians during the war years is because those stories have, for the most part, been overlooked. Books and movies are made about the battles, the espionage, the truly big adventures in all their drama and horror. But those of us who didn’t live through it know little about what life was like here at home.

This collection provides a brilliant glimpse into those lives, often seemingly unaffected by war on the surface. But many recall experiencing deep fear, knowing how children their own age suffered the direct ravages of destruction across the sea. Some became well-acquainted with British children sent to Canada to be kept safe and feared the same could happen to them. Separation from parents and everything familiar. Where would they go when their turn came?

Several wrote of difficult adjustments after the war ended. What had become normal was now topsy-turvy. Some were introduced to a father they’d never known—in some cases, a father who we’d now say suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder but for whom therapy was unavailable. One English child, sent to Canada at the age of four, returned home at the age of nine to parents she barely remembered and a baby brother she’d never met.

Some lost their fathers and big brothers entirely.

The quote that summarizes it most powerfully comes from Jean Little’s section of the book. She closes her chapter like this:

“Real war wounds maim you for life. Fear haunts the dreams of children caught in war even when they become grandparents. Although I lived through the war years cocooned in my cozy Canadian childhood, the life stories told to me by people who had survived World War II, and a book written by a teenager who had not [Anne Frank], taught me that war has no happy ending. Although I still live in a cocoon called Canada, I try not to forget.”

And neither must we.

My singer/songwriter friend Keith Kitchen of Swift Current has recorded a song called “Never Been to War.” The music video (directed by Derek Selinger) recently won the 2018 Best Music Video award at the Edmonton Short Film Festival. It’s a song of gratitude and innocence, afforded to us because of the sacrifices of others. The video, made in cooperation with the Royal Canadian Legion, is well worth your time this Remembrance Day. You can watch it HERE.

Lest we forget.

Finders Weepers?

One day last month, I saw a twenty-dollar bill lying on the sidewalk. No one was around. The nearby businesses were not yet open for the day. If I didn’t keep moving, I’d be late for work.

What would you do?

I stuffed it in my pocket.

On my walk home five hours later, I put my hand in my pocket and remembered my find. What should I do with it? By the time I arrived home, I’d formed what I thought was a good idea. I logged into Facebook and found a local queries page that generates a lot of activity. Here’s what I posted:

FOUND ON SEPT 20: some money on Tupper Street. Private message me, describing what you lost and where you were, and I’ll do my best to get it back to you. If not claimed in three days, I will donate it to whichever of the following charities receives the most votes.

I then created a poll whereby people could vote for one of four local charities. 

Responses over the next several hours proved interesting. 251 people voted. Sixteen left comments, most of them advising me on what I should have done, two of them praising me for paying it forward. Only one person private-messaged me. The amount of cash they’d lost was far greater than what I’d found, and I sure hope theirs was recovered. 

By the next day, comments ceased. I suppose my post had rolled on down and been buried by new ones. Big Brothers/Big Sisters received over half the votes, so that’s where the money went.

What I found especially intriguing was how, even though I had not sought advice, people felt compelled to tell me the rightful way to handle it. Most thought I should have taken the money to the RCMP. True, I had not revealed the amount. Would they have been as adamant about me going to the police if they’d known it was a twenty? If not, why not? What if it were ten dollars? How about a toonie? How much is too much to keep? Or too little to mention?

Examining my own motives and emotional responses throughout this process proved humbling. Was my first thought “woo-hoo” when I saw the money? 

Absolutely. I was prepared to keep it, until my conscience kicked in. 

When I went public with my attempt to return it to its rightful owner or give it away, did a part of me want to look virtuous? 

Yep. 

When I read the advice about how I should have gone to the police, how I should have stuck around the area in case someone showed up, how I should make my post public so the entire world could see it, how I should wait and see if someone posted elsewhere about lost money, did I feel judged?

Yes, I did. 

Did I feel like weeping because my character was in question? 

A little bit, yes.

Did I want to scream, “People! I could have said nothing at all and bought myself a pizza with extra toppings. I’m trying to be decent and all I’m getting is criticism!”

Yes, I wanted to. 

When my inner grammar cop saw “You should of…” did she shudder and roll her eyes?

Definitely. She’s the judgiest of all.

Did I regret ever creating the post?

Well, no, because I figured I could get a blog post out of it.

You could call this an experiment on the inadequacy of social media. You don’t have all the facts and may never get them, even if you ask. It points out how quickly we assume we would have done something better, that we know what is right or wrong.

I’ll be pondering on this awhile.

Be honest with yourself. What would you have done?

ATTENTION, ALL PERSONNEL!

I know what you’re going to say. 

I know because it was my first thought, too. “Didn’t the Prairie Players just do M*A*S*H a couple of years ago?”

Well, first of all, it was eight years ago. Time flies like that.

Secondly, the production you saw in 2010 was taken from the TV series. This year’s production is the original script, the one you’d have seen in the 1970 movie—if you saw the movie.

I had not. So, I did a little digging.

Turns out the original movie was based on a 1968 book called MASH: A Novel About Three Army Doctors by Richard Hooker (the pen name for former military surgeon Dr. H. Richard Hornberger and writer W. C. Heinz.) Dr. Hornberger graduated from Cornell University Medical School and was almost immediately drafted into the Korean War and assigned to the 8055th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH).

A scene from the original MASH movie

His experiences became the background for his novel, which he worked on for eleven years. MASH was rejected by many publishers before Hornberger collaborated with famed sportswriter, W.C. Heinz. A year later, the book was published and became highly successful. MASH was adapted as a film and nominated for five Academy Awards, winning for Best Adapted Screenplay.

The TV series debuted in 1972 and ran for eleven seasons—eight years longer than the Korean war! Rumour has it that Hornberger did not like Alan Alda’s portrayal of Hawkeye Pierce (in the movie, Donald Sutherland played Pierce), and that he was so furious at having sold the film rights for only a few hundred dollars that he never again signed a copy of the book.

In MASH units, draftees and regular army personnel lived and worked together in tents—operating on stretchers balanced on carpenter’s sawhorses. They roasted in the summer and froze in the winter. One thing that characterized these units was long periods of a week or more in apparent peace and safety when nothing was happening. When you realize most of these doctors were in their twenties, it’s not surprising all that free time resulted in numerous and varied shenanigans. Then suddenly, they’d be faced with an overwhelming mass of casualties, as many as a thousand in one day. You’ll recall both scenarios dramatized effectively in the series.

You can discover the differences between the two scripts when you see the play.

Come on out to the William Glesby Centre and enjoy the Prairie Players’ production of this classic. Directed by Christopher Kitchen, the large cast includes Krista Austin, Craig Bennet, Shaina Bergen, Theresa Bergen, Sandy Blight, Ron C, Avery Griffith, Mike Hoekstra, Gord Holm, Iris Jones, Monce Joseph, Jim Kitchen, Larry Lepla, Haley L’Heureux, Robert Martin, Deanne McLeod, Henry Romance, Tyrone Taylor, Jordan Thiessen, Peggy Tidsbury, Terry Tully, Danica Turcotte, and Paul Warthe.

All four nights will be set up in coffee house style with reserved seating at round tables. November 7 and 8 is the play only at 7:30pm. Doors open at 7. Tickets are $15 each. November 9 and 10 will be dinner theatre with cocktails at 5:30, dinner at 6:30 and the play at 7:30. Tickets are $45.00. Catered by Café on Prince. Tickets are not available online. For tickets, call the Glesby Centre Box Office at 204-239-4848 or visit them during office hours.