Tag: netherlands

The Larks still bravely singing fly…….

Although it snowed the day before, we attended the Remembrance service yesterday near our house with friends, walked on the snowy sidewalk and joined others who gathered and watched as the usual 11 o’clock events took place; the presenting of the flags by the veterans from the local Legion and the sounding of the trumpet for the 2 minutes of silence.

A fair crowd of assorted neighbours had already gathered, a flag delegation of veterans; (colour party) there were even school children who would take part in the proceedings.

At precisely 11 o’clock, we heard the first call, the sounding of the “Last Post” by the trumpeter which signals the last duty of enlisted soldiers at the end of day. During this call the Canadian flag was lowered and a time of complete silence followed for the 2 minutes. A time for all those in attendance to reflect on the sacrifice of those who gave their lives for their country and for freedom.

I find it always hard to reflect, because none of my family served or were lost in a conflict event defending truth and peace in a time of war. That said however, I do remember the events surrounding our liberation from German occupation during World WarII in April 1945. Although I was only just shy of 4 years old, the events of that weekend are very vivid in my thoughts. The Canadian Army had advanced far enough into Northern part of the Netherlands to take on the Germans in the city of Groningen where I lived with my family. We were hiding in the neighbour’s cellar space under the stairs and during a lull in the fighting were allowed upstairs into the living room and crossing the hall we noticed a young soldier propped up on a chair. His posture indicated he had been wounded. My mother remarked on it later and said that he would probably die. This is often the tone of the reflections I recall. For a young boy this was just news but now that I am older this scene packs a lot of things that are repeated time and time again during a time of war.

How did he become involved with the army? Did he have his parents’ blessings in volunteering during a time of hostilities? Was he excited to join others to go overseas? Who were is buddies? What events had he witnessed already in the last few months? Did he write letters to his loved ones? What did he tell them? Will he make it through and be OK? How old was he? If he returned home did he talk about his tour of duty and the happenings he experienced? Questions we are now slowly hearing through writings in books and articles. For some of them recalling these memories are just too hard.

I also think about those who resisted the enemy and fought silently and under cover in their local communities, harassing the occupying enemy and protecting the ones that were fingered for expulsion or removal. Like the story my mother told me about the young ‘underground’ fighter (‘onderduiker’) who was to lodge at our house that night in 1944 but said that he felt safe enough to go to his parents’ home. When he arrived, they were waiting for him and it cost him his life.

What sorrows and despairs are, even today, experienced by those living with war and conflict. Since the two World Wars there have been many global international events, Korea, Egypt, Rwanda, Iraq and Afghanistan, Yugoslavia, Sudan, Ukraine, Middle East not to speak of local misdeeds and violence in our own Canadian communities. When will the clash among humans ever end?

Who cannot shed a tear during that emotional scene in the movie: “Saving Private Ryan” where a mother is washing dishes in her kitchen, sees a gray car coming up the drive  and when she fully realizes the (bad) news it brings, how when the Sergeant and the Pastor step from the car, she knows, yes, she knows and collapses on the porch of her home, for this was what she dreaded. The news will be bad. That captures what it is like for those who lose a loved one(s) in wartime.

Our National Silver Cross (first authorized on December 1, 1919) mother for this year’s event in Ottawa was Mrs. Nancy Payne from Lansdowne, ON, who lost her son Corporal Randy Payne (age 33) in Afghanistan in April 2006. She too received that phone call in the middle of the night. A ringing phone in the night usually frightens us all and the one we all hope to never have to answer.

Soon as the two minutes are up, the bugler’s “Rouse”, the wake-up call, sounds and we are caught back to the reality of the day and our presence at the event.

We then sing the Royal anthem: ‘God save our Gracious King’ and instead of one stanza we also sing the 2nd which I did not know by heart but sounds like this: ‘Thy choicest gifts in store, On him be pleased to pour; Long may he reign. May he defend our laws, And ever give us cause, To sing with heart and voice, God save the King!’ A prayer really.

We will hear the now familiar words from the poem, “For the Fallen”, the 4th verse: ‘They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them’. (by Laurence Binyon, an English poet and first printed in ‘The Times’ on 21 September 1914.)

A prayer is then offered by a Chaplain of a local Christian church. For us that meant the priest of the local Catholic Church, Father Thomas, prayed for the military service personnel and their families with the earnest request of God to cease all wars and to invite God’s spirit to enter our hearts to seek for peaceful solutions to our never-ending issues. The prayer was concluded with ‘in Jesus name’ as, may this prayer be heard for our thanks and petitions to the King of Kings in the heavenly realms.

After comes the introduction of the local government and special community representatives and the laying of the wreaths by those representatives and local organizations including children from two local Christian Schools. This I found interesting that the schools are educating the children to remember and not forget the bravery of these sacrifices for our peace and freedom in our beautiful Canada. The true north, strong and free.

It also made me think that we immigrants from a foreign land, the Netherlands, are not always actively and visibly present at ceremonies like these although some of us older ones still have the memories of a land wasted and harassed by an enemy for five years were liberated by young Canadians who in the words of one we know now buried at Holten War Cemetery said: ‘I want to serve so that I can participate in the liberation of my grand-parents.’ May he and others rest in peace.

There had been a large crowd this year and partly I think because of the political situation in the world largely driven by the past year’s events and in the face of new concerns, for some in Canada, by our powerful neighbour to the South. This has brought us renewed caution and at times reactions of distrust and deep hurts of friendships gone wrong. There is a sense that past values and alliances are being undermined and discarded.

May we ever be on guard (call out, resist all tyranny) and be wise enough to know where our loyalties, our duty and sense of love for our neighbours must be placed.

Jesus words to one of his disciples on drawing his sword, as recorded in the Gospel of Matthew chapter 26 verse 52 still ring true today: “Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.” Tr NIV

JS November 12, 2025

PEACE be with You!

  • feature picture: Monument at Vimy Ridge, France – depicts the figure as “Canada Mourning Her Fallen Sons” or “Canada Bereft” dedicated July 26, 1936 – it took 11 years to built designed by: Walter Allward and Frederick Chapman Clemesha.
  • Title of this blog is taken from John McCrea’s poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ …that mark our place; and in the sky the larks, still bravely singing, fly scarce heard amid the guns below…..
  • The sword was drawn by a disciple to protect Jesus from those who came to capture him, in the garden of ‘Gethsemane’ the night before he was condemned and crucified.

Note: I know the circumstances and actions resulting from committed community crime is not to be compared with bravely going to war to defend the decency of moral and lawful peaceful people and nations but nevertheless the victims and families who suffer the loss of a loved ones because of these evil actions of those who practice their criminal life style in the midst of our citizens without regard of conscience is just as devastating. Just think of that recent event in downtown Hamilton (July 11, 2025 -Story by CBC/Radio-Canada) where an innocent by-stander was killed at a bus-stop, as a scooter rider fired discriminately into a group of targeted gang members. Or what about the recent killing of a father in a house invasion event (Nov12, 2025 – Vaughan, ON)

1953 November 20 Friday

1953 was the year of the Big Flood (Watersnoodramp) when a massive storm (one in a hundred years – they said) blew in from Iceland, swooped over Scotland and across the North Sea, broke through the dikes of Zeeland, south Zuid-Holland and Noord Brabant provinces on January 31st, claiming the lives of 1,800 Dutch people, many in their sleep and caused the drowning of cattle, other animals and the destruction of farms and towns to the tune of 1 billion guilders; it was the year I completed Grade 6 at the ‘School with the Bible’ and was chosen to recite the rhymed 93rd Genevan Psalm at a parent/teachers event: ‘The LORD is King, enrobed with Majesty, He girds himself with strength and equity, therefore the world established by His hand, cannot be moved, but shall forever stand. The mighty floods have lifted, have lifted up their voice, the waves that roar and in their voice rejoice, but mighty though the thundering floods may be, more glorious than the surging of the sea; is He in majesty on high, forevermore his name we glorify!’ it was also the year of the crowning of Queen Elizabeth II of England on June 2nd; it was the year of the death of the Communist Russian leader Joseph Stalin on March 5th, who forced industrialization, famine-causing purges, killing according to estimates between 10 and 20 million of his own people; then also on April 25th we read a report in the science journal NATURE about the discovery of the double helix, the twisted-ladder structure of deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) by James Watson and Francis Crick; the year, the Korean War ends (July 27th) into an armistice; the Salk vaccine discovery that will save many from the Polio disease is made public; it was the time Nikita Khrushchev becomes President of the Soviet Union, starting the ‘Cold War’ scares of the 50s and 60s. Nineteen fifty-three was the summer I graduated and started Highschool (MULO) and our family was about to move to the far other side of the world: Canada. My parents said good-by to family and friends. My dad told them: ‘We will most likely never see you again!’

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The weather was warm for that November day as we approached the harbour of Quebec City 70 years ago. The people on the Dutch ship ‘Grote Beer’ were eagerly looking out on the city and its buildings along the St. Lawrence River each with their own thoughts about this land that they had decided to settle in. There was hope for a good future but some were disappointed with the old look of the buildings they saw and remembered what they had left behind.

Having packed our suitcases the day before, we were all eager to disembark. After nine days of ocean travel all the while experiencing a heavy Atlantic storm, causing much sea-sickness among the passengers, the immigrants looked forward to setting foot on solid land. The next day the landing cards were stamped and the families were allow to transfer to the arrival shed where there were some people who welcomed us in Dutch and we waited to be assigned a location on the Canadian Pacific train parked next to the building. My mother as usual would notice on entering on board that the seats were dusty and the compartment looked old. As the weather had warmed many of us took off our coats and stored our luggage overhead and waited. No one seemed to know when the train would leave, all we knew was that we were headed to Montreal and Toronto.

After waiting for sometime, the people were starting to get hungry and so leaving the train, crossed the tracks to a small store they had spotted and bought bread, margarine and drinks. The bread wrapped in paper, was white and spongy and the margarine was pure white and tasted very salty, very unusual, as the bread they were used to was much more solid and margarine in Holland was yellow.

Towards the end of the afternoon the train started to move and we settled down for the journey which lasted all night, till we finally arrived at Toronto. My aunt Gine and uncle Henry Oosterveld (my Mom’s brother – whose family had immigrated two years earlier) together with my cousin Reina met us with their car at Union station. The weather was cloudy, damp, with spots of fog at 6 degrees Celsius. We loaded up the car. (a 1950 Ford I believe) Three in front and all of us (five – my parents, two sisters and I) in the back with our luggage in the trunk, a very heavy load.

We proceeded up Yonge Street (my Uncle was amazed how long this street was) and turning onto Highway 7 heading to Guelph, travelling through Brampton, Georgetown, Acton, Rockwood and then turning left onto Wellington County Road 29 towards Eden Mills. Past the one room school house (on the right) that I would attend in the next few days towards the first driveway on the left. A two track lane-way lined by trees on each side, ended at a barn with a farmers house on the left and a smaller two story house on the right where we would spend acclimatizing to the Canadian environment during the next two months as guests of my Aunt & Uncle. We had arrived in Canada!

We were ready to claim the words in the Bible book – Numbers, chapter 14 verse 8 where we read the words of Joshua and Caleb: “If the Lord is pleased with us, he will lead us into that land, a land flowing with milk and honey…….. “ (Tr. NIV)

JS November 18, 2023