DADDY'S GIRL

Sometimes, somewhere, someone puts out some great stuff that you know you must share with everyone. On this Remembrance Day, let's take time to think about that little girl or that little boy who's father won't be coming back...

Jimmy posted a new blog entry to Veterans UN/NATO Canada. No comments need more to be added. Thanks Jimmy!

Daddy's Poem & Remembrance Day

Her hair was up in a pony tail,
Her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.

But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees
A dad who never calls.

There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
A man who wasn't there.

'Where's her daddy at?'
She heard a boy call out.
'She probably doesn't have one,'
Another student dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
'Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day.'

The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.

And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.

'My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.

And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.

We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him.
I'm not standing here alone.

'Cause my daddy's al ways with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart'

With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.

And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.

For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.

'I love my daddy very much,
he's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.

You see he is a Canadian soldier
And died just this past year
When a roadside bomb hit his convoy
And taught us all to fear.

But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it's like he never went away.'
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.

And to her mothers amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side. '

I know you're with me Daddy,'
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.

Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed rose.

And a child was blessed,
if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining star.
And given the gift of believing,

That heaven is never too far...

WOW... LEST WE FORGET

KEEPERS OF THE FLAG

General Hillier once said, quote “When soldiers experience unsure military experiences, it produces uncertainty, which causes them to lose confidence in what they do and actually causes some fear. That's normal in the military.” unquote.

That’s nice but what about that young guy that just came home from that “God Forsaken” place called “Panjway District”, who was put through the “wringer” and had all the juices from his body squeezed till he’s got nothing else to give. How are we supposed to make things right by him? Oh for sure, the Department of National Defense and Veterans Affairs have contingency plans to deal with these psychologically affected individuals but after not experiencing but surviving such an ordeal shouldn’t we do more for them? But then again you might ask, “What do you expect us to do?” We wave the patriotic flag. We wear the “Support the Troops” pin. Hell, some of us even pour cement bags. What else, do you expect us to do? Well at this stage of the game, I’ll honestly tell you that I don’t really know the answer to that one but can see that there is a problem and it needs to be fixed.

If any of you followed the news recently, “good old boy” Peter MacKay just announced that Canada might not be pulling its troops out of Afghanistan as scheduled in 2011. Rather they would most likely stay and be employed in a less dangerous role such as mentoring and training programs. This to most of us with half a brain is not really news as we were expecting it but did anybody notice that the Canadian population never took the bait. You would think that if we were that committed to bringing the troops back home that at least one or two protesters would have charged “Parliament Hill” with their “No more war” placards. No, that news segment turned out to be a simple blur that vanished never to be challenged. Now that to the “Tories” was probably a good thing. You see, they’ve been strategizing to get a majority ever since they’ve been elected. By checking the population’s pulse, they realized that the patient is sleeping comfortably numb and to further commit our soldiers passed the deadline might not affect the outcome of an upcoming election. So, armed with these realities and behind “closed doors”, they can now negotiate some “shady deal” with our cousins south of the border.

“Whoa!” Stop the press and let’s rewind the tape a bit. There needs to be a little history lesson injected in here. If we recall, in 2002, then Liberal Prime Minister, Paul Martin, agreed to send troops to Afghanistan as part of the coalition force. This seemed to satisfy the spoiled needs of then US President, “Georges W. Bush”. By pure coincidence if you want to believe this, they suddenly relaxed the surtaxes on our lumber and allowed our meat to be imported as our cows were no longer mad. As for our steel industry, it was no longer sub-standard and hell yes, “Alleluia”, the famous “red P.E.I. spud”, was again good to eat. Years went by and all of a sudden, the same dilemma appears but under a different name. Last year, when “Obama” introduced his “Buy American” policy, this sent our politicians scrambling as here we were after pulling through the first one, we were being subjected to a second round of “blackmail”. Thus probably the reason why we have troops over there. Not because, we’re fighting for their freedom but rather because we’re fighting to keep ours. We are at the mercy our largest trading partner and if we want to keep our families fed, we have to “play ball” with the Americans. The Canadian Soldiers assigned to the violent Taliban heartland are a key component to this complicated political chess game and will be used and abused till this so-called war against terrorism is over. These are the arrangements that we are stuck with and in all fairness to “Stephen Harper”, he basically has no choice but to stay the present course of action which probably can be loosely translated into a bastardized version of “Co-operate or else.”

From the beginning, General Hillier was the architect and main driving force behind Canada’s mission of taking the responsibilities of “Panjway District”. While between 2002 to 2005 (four years) Canada lost eight (8) troops, since their move to Kandahar in 2006, a staggering number of one-hundred and twenty-two (122), have fallen for this country and the fourth year (2009) is not over yet. That folks, averages to about 30 individuals a year. Just thought that I’d bring these surreal statistics so to show what kind of sacrifice these soldiers are making…
Anyway, when the CDS decided to retire in Jul 08, I for one really thought that he had dropped the ball and left the “Boyz” to be fed to the wolves. To say the least, this did not sit well with me. Although I now apologize to him for what I called him, at the time, I was fit to be tied and promised myself that retribution would be paid. So in my devious twisted mind, in Dec 08, when they announced the 100th casualty, I concocted a ploy where I would send my Canadian flag on a mission to the “Big Sandbox” and when it did return, I was going to mail it as a “retirement gift” to General Hillier in Newfoundland with a note that was going to tell him to hang this in his plush University office as he should also share the burden of living with the ghosts of all those lost soles.

The plan was set in motion and it went without a hitch. Without a hitch, yes but as soon as that flag hit the ground running over there, I started doubting it as I could see that it had serious drawbacks that could be catastrophic. One of the purposes of the flag was to give the opportunity to a young man to have something else to think about other than the drudgeries of war. What I never thought of was that it might just draw unnecessary attention to this individual and that being in the spotlight like that might just bring some additional danger to him. Add to that the fact that “Bobby” was doing such a bang-up job of promoting the “morale boosting flag” and this to the point where he was drawing media attention and you know what? I was getting worried that he might not be focusing on the true nature of his real mission. So for well over six months, I just sat back and prayed that nothing bad would happen to him. Every time they announced that “a NATO soldier was killed”, I swallowed hard, hoping that it wasn’t “Pte Buteau”.

So you can imagine how glad I was to see this young “combat veteran” safe and sound when he showed up on my doorsteps last Saturday and get this, two days after arriving in Canada. For him and the guys in his section, I guess it was important to make sure that the flag made it safe and sound back at “Ciment Hill”. From what he related, his tour of duty was “no cake walk” and if hell does exist on earth then they have found it and it’s located downtown in the “Panjway District”. Until the American Marines showed up, next door in Hellman province to relieve some of the pressure, the two outposts manned by the Canadians reported close to 75% of all contacts with the enemy in the area. Considering that their “Strong Point” was involved in more than fifty (50) close quarter firefights, I guess for them the flag acted as some sort of security blanket and gave them a sense of reality of who they were and what they were fighting for. It’s kind of ironic that this bond and sense of loyalty towards an old fool that lives in the backwoods of New-Brunswick developed but what the hell, “Whatever spins your bowtie, I guess”. Anyway, I didn’t care too much about the flag at this point as I previously mentioned, the thing had brought me nightmares. This till, “Bobby” presented it to me complete with its traveling case. From what I could gather, the personnel of the Funeral Guard in Kandahar had taken the time to neatly fold it in the traditional triangle shape before retiring it to the wooden box. When I opened the lid and saw this honorable gesture, tears filled my eyes and I just couldn’t find the right words to say. All I could do was look into this soldier’s eyes and see that here stood before me a kid that really needed a huge hug at this stage of the game. So without further ado, I opened up my arms and we held each other and this for a serious long time. I don’t know who needed it the most, me or him. All I can say is that nothing else needed to be said. He had just survived probably the worst experience in a soldier’s career and contrary to the fifteen colleagues that didn’t make it home safely during that particular rotation, he had lived through the ordeal and this according to him, would get the occasion to go back and fight another day.

When I embarked in this adventure with the “Keepers of the Flag” last spring, my motivations were somewhat of a narcissistic nature. To “stick it” to the man and really rub his nose in it sounded like a good plan at the time. However, after listening to a few individuals that have lived the Afghanistan experience for the last year, I’ve come to recognize the fact that General Hillier was indeed a “Soldier’s General” who was most likely the key element that kept the politicians in check. We’ll never be privileged enough to find out what really transpired between him and the Prime Minister just before he unexpectedly decided to “pull the plug” but one fact remains uncontested. Since he was sidelined, the operation has taken a completely different direction. From what I have been told, the DND chain of command is taking orders from “civies” that don’t have a clue as to what it takes to win this thing. The order of the day seems to be, “Just make us look good and there won’t be any heads served on a platter”. Gentlemen, it sure isn’t my place to run the boat but this smells like something the Canadian Forces experienced in a recent past. It seems that the more it changes, the more it resembles our involvement in the Bosnian/Croatian conflict. And that part of our military history is nothing to brag about. We can’t be fighting this thing with our hands tied behind our back. This sends the wrong message. There is nothing worse than having a front line soldier second guess his true calling. We seem to forget that the “Boyz” need our complete support and undivided attention and this should be a given. If this is not to be the case then there is but one other solution. “Bring them back home!” It’s that simple.

As for the tattered flag, I don’t really know what I’m going to do with it. It seems to mean a lot more to those few Royal 22e Regiment soldiers who took it out on patrol than it does to me or for that matter, the “General”. I’ll have to sit on this one and think about this for a while. Who knows? Maybe I’ll keep it around for a fourth generation of “Buteaus”. I don’t really know. Let’s just say that for now it is resting safe and sound in “My slice of Heaven” and we’ll see what the future holds. = -)

Peace on earth to one and all and remember collectively we can make a difference.

Later Folks,

Gino

P.S. Oh by the way “Boyz”, GREAT JOB AND WELCOME HOME!

UNITED VETERANS?

On the property, along the river bank, I’ve got a small foot path that I’ve long ago baptized the “Puppy Trail”. Nicknamed as such because of its purpose, this is where the young six week old sled dogs puppies get indoctrinated to early training. The other day, as per the normal daily ritual, some of the dogs and me went for a walk on it. A simple but most enjoyable time of day, this gives them the occasion to socialize and sniff everything in sight. I usually get a laugh at seeing them horseplay and interact but most importantly, I usually take this quiet moment to reflect. Although a short distance, maybe half a kilometer if you do the whole trek, for me, it never seems to get monotonous. Why should it? The beautiful scenery never stays the same with every changing season as there’s always something going on. One morning, the loons can be gliding along and fishing while on the next one, you might be lucky enough to see otters crack open and eat fresh water clams. It’s like you’re watching a “Nature Show” on the Discovery Channel but without the reruns.

Point in case, a few days ago, for entertainment, the local flock of Canada Geese flew by us, in a well defined “V” shape formation and landed maybe five hundred feet up river. One of the young ones obviously had not mastered the art of landing and when its webbed feet touched the surface, he tumbled head over heels on and in the water. Not a “crash and burn” event, a few seconds later, he right sided himself up, shook the marbles out and continued swimming with his family. Now some of you might think that this is not much of a big deal or might even suggest that I lead a boring life. Possibly, but then again, how many of you have had the occasion to listen to that particular sound of the wind when it goes through their flapping wings. Or how many of you have taken the time or even at that, have had the opportunity to see the progression that goes on during that transition period of “Flight School” from when the hatchlings come out of the egg to when they finally take off for that first trip down south.

Nature has an amazing way of teaching us certain lessons but you have to take the time to absorb what is being taught. For instance, in the case of these Canada Geese, a whole bunch of things transpire during their stay here in the summer and the lessons learned can be directly applied to our daily living and in my case to my “dog sledding” world.

First, when they do arrive in early spring, they know exactly where to go and who is a friend and who is a foe. Thus, they revisit those who make them feel welcomed and feed them. Where it is not in my nature to offer them food, I don’t really condone the practice in their case. After coming home after a long and hard trip, they need to rest and replenish their strength. Food can be scarcest at the best of times in this somewhat “urbanized area” and we’ve created a situation where we have but no choice to help them out. You have to understand that although we call them the “local flock”, they’re not from here originally. We used to have Canada Geese in this region maybe thirty years ago but they were hunted into extinction. These birds that now call the Madawaska River home were imported from Ontario ten (10) years ago from a town that was overpopulated by them to the point where they became a nuisance. As a result of somebody’s “brain fart”, they caught and brought twenty-five (25) young specimens to this area and let them loose. Today, this relocation program is a victim of its own success as we are faced with a situation that will in a near future become a possible problem. You see, first of all, we can’t hunt them due to laws prohibiting the use of firearms in the close proximities of buildings. Also, they don’t really have any natural predators so we have over one thousand of these game birds that are fighting to survive by feeding on anything that they can rummage. Too often enough you’ll see them foraging for grass on somebody’s manicured lawn. They don’t care that this “doctor” or “lawyer” is paying mega bucks to keep up with the “Jones”, they just want to eat. This makes them unpopular with this self proclaimed upper class “Aristocratic” crowd and some of these folks will even go to extremes to persuade these pesky now called pests off their land. Now what happened to this moving out to the country and co-habiting with nature? I guess if it doesn’t “ruffle my feathers”, it’s OK but if one craps on my deck, there will be hell to be paid. You know, I kind of feel for those geese as I’m faced with a similar dilemma when dealing with this “sophisticated crowd” of shore dwellers. I had the Ministry of Environment visit me a couple of years ago, acting on a complaint as apparently, my sawmill yard was a source of pollution and a threat to the environment. It turns out that I knew the officer and he gave me the real scoop. As you would have it, the wife of a prominent doctor felt embarrassed to have her guests drive by my place as according to her, it was an eye sore. Now what the hell does she expect from a working operation? Is she not smart enough to realize that lumber come from trees and trees have bark and when you’re finished with the transformation, you have waste material? Come on, give me a break! But then again I should have known better, this coming from a woman that has never worked a day in her life, to later manage to sleep her way into a rich man’s bed. I guess things haven’t changed much in Suzanne’s boring life. You have to remember that I know her from when she was a kid. When she was young, she was so poor that it was the only thing that she had for entertainment but now instead of playing with her “shit”, she’s chucking it. The irony of it all is that she was on the “committee” to have the Canada Geese brought to her front yard. As a sidebar by the way, the only reason I’m mentioning this here is because, from what I’ve heard through the “grape vines”, she has been reading my “dog stories” and apparently, it’s “approprié” to know the “Baisley writer”. Yeah right, like I said before, “Give me a break!”

Anyway back to my birds (just had to get that off my chest), because of this “local turf war”, they have learned to adapt to the situation. Right from “Day One”, the chicks have got to learn how to swim. In this situation, all the adults surround them in a circle like formation and all the newborns are gathered from the different nests and allowed to paddle safely across the waters. When a threat is recognized, the alarm is sounded and all the mature female geese will tighten the inner circle while the ganders will take a defensive position concentrating on the side of the perceived danger. Once the menace has passed, they will return to their previous circle like positions and will continue to glide along.

Within the first six weeks of their existence, a transformation takes place in the lives of the young chicks’ lives. They lose their grayish duvet to have it replaced with the well recognized plumage of the Canada Goose. As soon as their feathers are fully grown, the parents immediately teach them how to fly. Initially, they simply learn to flap their wings till they realize that they can create lift. Then the parents will show them what has to be done and “hoopla”, they’ve got this moving forward and lifting off the water down path. Not too sure of what’s happening, they’ll go back to the safety of the surface of the water to again try this again in an immediate future. This goes on for a couple of weeks and next thing you know, they know how to fly.

Throughout the summer, you will see them practicing this new acquired talent and every day they will be out there doing their thing. It’s nice to know how to fly but if they’re going to tackle this big upcoming fall trip, they need to build up their strength and endurance. So, day in and day out, they’re out there doing some low flying passes over the river. When the parents feel that the time is right, then they’ll bring the young ones to higher elevations, away from the water and on longer trips. They eventually learn that landing on solid ground requires a different technique but that’s OK because it’s all part of the learning process.

By the time the days get shorter, all the different families flock together to create one huge gaggle of geese. They practice and quickly learn that if you fly in a “V” formation, the goose in front of you cuts the wind resistance and you can go further than if you were traveling alone. So not by choice but rather because of their survival instinct, they stay together. After training all summer, they wait till their counterparts from further north pass over. At their invitation, they respond to their honking and then join them for the “three thousand plus” kilometer trip down south.

To see these thousands of birds fly way up there a couple of thousand of feet is most impressive especially when you see these huge moving “V” formations carve huge black lines out of the skyline. No religion or politics involved, they just do this “team work” because they know that if they’re going to survive, they need this “working together” for the same cause down to a science, otherwise their chance of success are at best either very slim or nil. ”

When this whole migration process takes place, it’s a sign that winter is well on it’s way and a good indicator that’s it’s time for the dog team and I to go out there and start losing that accumulated summer fat. Just like those geese, if we’re going to do our thing, we need to train and put on some serious miles. Just like those geese, we need to work as a unit if we are to attain our goal. For this winter, we’ve upped the “antes” a bit and the laborious challenge will be to run five (5) races in the Quebec Mid-Distance Circuit and finish the season with the sixty (60) mile race in Fort-Kent, Maine but that’s a totally different story...

As to where all this fits with the military veterans, well it’s quite simple. This is where we differ. I’ve been sitting here in the bush, observing what has been going on and like Louis Leclerc would have famously articulated, “I’ve got to give my head a real good shake”. Everybody seems to be full of good intentions but everybody seems to be promoting their own agenda. As of now, I’ve identified at least eighteen (18) different para-military organizations that seem to think that their cause should be the “one” that all of us should shoulder and promote. You really have to raise an eyebrow when you see people arguing about who has the right to display the “poppy”. Another good one is when you’re told that you better be careful as to how you use the “Support the Troop” logo as someone has a “copyright” on it and you might just end up at the receiving end of a lawsuit. What about those ones of a more rebellious nature that seem to want to hint that if the veterans were to unite, we could actually overthrow the government. Sounds good in theory but then again our infamous bureaucrats in Ottawa are not afraid of such a possibility. Rather, they tend to laugh at the prospect, knowing quite well that we’ll never be able to organize such a united front simply because we tend to promote our own regional selfishness and will never get along.

I could go on “bad-mouthing” about what’s wrong with the big picture and to tell you the truth, I completely deleted the first draft of this “blog entry”. Somewhere along the line, I realized that it did not serve any constructive purposes and that the “Boyz” in Afghanistan have got enough on their plate and don’t need anymore of these negative “vibes”.

For me it is and will remain quite basic. I’ve accepted the fact that in the past I was dealt with more than my fair share of bad hands and just don’t have the “moxey” to take on big projects. Some might argue that my limitations are attributed to old age or it could be because of this diagnosed condition called PTSD. As of today, the verdict is still out on that and I don’t know for sure. All I can say is that I’ve found a winning combination that affords me a comfort zone and for now, I’m quite content living a simple life. Out of the visitors (180 plus) that dropped in at “Ciment Hill” this summer, I had the opportunity to hear some amazing “war stories”. From World War II right down to Afghanistan, it astounded me to see that so many veterans of past conflicts would simply drop in and confide in me. Some stories were enlightening while some were atrocious. Whatever they were, it seemed that every one of them had this particular common theme. All these soldiers had been there and done their thing and for some reason they felt the need to be heard. And that folks is a quality that I do possess. I’m a very good listener. I mean, I can actually sit down and listen to what is being said by the person in front of me. And you know what? A lot of times, getting it off one’s chest might just be the first step on the road to recovery and inner peace. Now that in my books, makes it worth while to breathe fresh country air.

For us veterans and anybody else for that matter that still want to make a “war contribution”, this is in no way beyond our reach. Like “Dell” pointed out during his visit this summer, over 1.4 million people rotate around this veteran nucleus. If only half of these people would go out of their way to thank the Canadian soldiers for their efforts then they would not feel so alone and abandoned. Trust me, the real picture is not as rosy as our leaders want us to believe and morale is beyond low, actually it’s in the dumpster.

So, instead of trying to organize these big “shin dings” in honor of the troops, maybe we should do something on our own and add our personal touch. It can be simple gestures such as if you see one waiting in line at your local “Tim Horton”, offer to pay for his coffee. If you spot one walking down the street, “toot” your horn and give him a “thumb’s up”. Hell, just go out of your way and tell him that you appreciate what he’s doing for your country. I’m sure that it will make his day. As for me, well, I don’t plan on leading any big parades. I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing all my life. I’ll keep helping my fellow man and hope that someday he’ll return the favor by helping someone else.

Peace on earth to one and all and remember collectively, we can make a difference. = -)

Gino

THE OUTPOST

Good Morning Erhard, Good Morning Herta,

The new addition to your family is simply beautiful. I am very glad to see that all went well. Congratulations to the proud parents and of course to "OMA" and "OPA".

Out here in New-Brunswick, everything is fine. We had a reasonable tourist season, considering the recession. They keep telling us that it's over but I'm not too sure about that. When even the Chinese are putting their people out of work, this does not inspire much confidence. But that's a totally different story...

I've been keeping busy, expanding on the business of Baisley Lodges. I've added the final extension to the "Bunkhouse" and will work in there over the winter, trying to get it ready for next summer. I also moved the "Trapper's Camp" to a location on top of a mountain, the balcony hanging over a "small cliff". The "Outpost" as it will be called is located 20 kilometers deeper in the bush and will be a great place to go with the dogs and also a great place to relax and even do some writing. The greatest thing about the place is that the view from up there is simply amazing plus as an added bonus there is no electricity or running water - just pure wilderness and a lot of peace and quiet. Mosqua and I were sitting on the balcony and admiring the scenery and you know what? I don't really understand why I've been so lucky. I'm not a religious man but for some strange reason, it's like somebody is looking after me. I'll have to keep that in the back of my mind. Somewhere, I'll have to return the favor, some day.

As for the dogs, well there has been a few changes in the barn. I had to say goodbye to my old friend, "Mr Tibbs". He had reached the end of the road and was suffering a bit too much. I took him to the veterinarian and had him put to sleep. A good friend of mine, the "Vet" didn't spare the dosage and he simply fell asleep in my arms, never to wake up. I buried him alongside his old friends, the other sled dogs and planted a spruce tree on top of his grave. A simple gesture just to remind me that he'll provide nutrition and energy to that tree so to help it grow for years to come. So, really he's not gone. He's just transformed himself to possibly live another century.

One of my favorite girls, "Snooky" is also gone. After serious contemplation, I finally decided to have her adopted. She moved this summer to southern USA where she will be doing what she enjoys best. She'll be able to run wild and fast on the sprint circuit down there. You see, "Snooky" didn't care too much for the long distance stuff nor did she care for the -20 Celsius temperature. So some good friends from down there needed a good mature leader so I let her go. I have to mention that if it wasn't for the fact that she went to a great family that will take really good care of her, she would still be with us.

"Sky the new Guy" also moved in. He's "Oumak's" brother and was given to me. Just like my grey leader, "Sky" has great work ethics and will be a great addition to the team this winter. He has serious attitude issues and doesn't trust humans. I guess when you've been tossed around from one place to another (I'm his fifth owner), it's kind of hard to put your confidence in the person that feeds you. Oh I guess with a lot of patience and a bit of caring, he will come along. He's been with me for two months now and he's making a lot of progress. Just the fact that he now runs loose on the property without running away, says it all. He's decided to make this his home.

As for the other dogs, well "Leonard" is in harness and in full training mode. He wants to come out running everyday but I have to be the parent and pace out the training. He's able and willing but he's still a puppy and is still growing. Better to take my time and build his strength and endurance over two years. Too many good dogs end up permanantly injured because we push them too hard when they're young.

The rest of the "Baisley Mob", well they're happy that summer is over and that we're back on the road. It's nice to see that they haven't forgotten anything over the last seasons and know what they have to do. The "Kid" has conceded his Alpha Dominant position to "JR". I guess he figured that my young white leader has worked hard enough over the last two years to earn his respect. Besides, "JR" kicked his ass a couple of times and pinned him down in a submissive position, so I think the message was sent loud and clear as to who is the "Leader of the Pack".

This season, we're running the Quebec Mid-Distance Circuit. This is a five race/ total accumulated points system where you run and even if you end up in the middle of the pack, you stand a good chance of finishing on top (Sort of resembles the formula one system of points).
At the end of the season, the "show down" is in Fort-Kent, Maine where we will run a "100 kms" race. It should make for an interesting winter. Who knows, I might even find great material to write about. So as you can see, we're staying busy but not really working.

Stay in touch and we will talk more later.

Your Canadian Friend,

Gino

VETERANS AT "CIMENT HILL"

Good Morning Bruce,

Just thought I'd take the time to give you an update as to what transpired during the month of July. Well to start it off, it rained just about everyday. Not really news nor should I feel privileged but anyway, we pushed through and set up for the third annual "Veterans Party" or as it was dubbed the "Old Soldiers Christmas Party". It's kind of fitting to call it that as one said, "We might as well celebrate Christmas in July, we were never home in December." We weren't that many (maybe 40 people) but we had a great time. A fantastic supper, a "Bomb fire" and a live band, we partied till the "Wee hours" of the morning. It's like they say, it's not the quantity but rather the quality of the company. It is totally amazing how all these good folks got along. What was more amazing is how old we are all getting.

All the Maritimes were well represented and so was the province of Quebec. Amongst the partakers were MPs in the likes of Yves Beausoleil (instigator of these parties), Carl Inglis (who forgot his rain suit), Luc Veilleux (contact person at Dorval Airport) and André Belley (Security Specialist in Valcatrez). The one that traveled the furthest was Yvon Brière aka “Bonhomme” who came in from Sudbury, Ontario. This "ex-Airborne" turned "Navy Stewart" type was quite the character and a guy that was right up my alley. He pulled in with his "Harley" sporting an assortment of patriotic flags and towing a huge trailer, that not only carried his luggage but also two army barrack boxes. Obviously, a "pack rat" who collects military memorabilia’s, it was great to be able to swap stuff with this guy. Did I mention that one of his barrack boxes was full of these "Army" souvenirs? His wife described their basement and from what she said, I think that "Chief Elliott" might have met his match. As an added bonus, the next morning, he prepared breakfast for the entire crew and this on the fire pit and on his own dime. Great time was had by one and all but it was not to stop there. People kept trickling in at “CIMENT HILL” and this till last night (31 Jul 09). Let's just say that I'm not the "Party Animal" that I used to be...

A few things were noted and are worth mentioning. The first thing was the comradery that was felt throughout the event. It was obvious to me that there was a sense of belonging amongst those gathered and that we felt the need to remind ourselves of who we are and what we stand for. Secondly, this organization called "VETERANS CANADA" do great things for fellow soldiers. They’ve been known to physically go to someone's basement and talk to him, guiding him to needed assistance. During these trying times, I do believe that such a bunch can do wonderful things in helping some of our troops coming out of Afghanistan. Call it “Front Line” intervention or call it being “God Parents” to a needy soldier, whatever… Their devotion is an example of what determined volunteers can accomplish. They've taken it upon themselves to offer their services to provide motorcycle escorts to fallen comrades at various funerals throughout Quebec, a gesture that is mostly appreciated by the families. Did I mention that they raised over $1500.00 this spring for the "MP Blind Fund”? Anyway, I for one feel quite comfortable hanging around with this great bunch of guys (kind of reminds me of our PPCLI days) and I might just stick around and see what transpires. They seem to fill that particular void that I’ve been feeling for all those post military years and that my friend is a “good thing”.

Other than that, Fran and I are real busy taking care of business at the mill and at the lodges. To the onlooker, it seems effortless but let me tell you, it takes a lot of efforts to keep this big boat afloat. I guess that’s the price of success. Not to worry, “mushing” season is only five months away. This season, our goal is the “Quebec Mid-distance” Circuit that ends in Fort-Kent, Maine with a “60” mile race. But that’s a totally different story.

Stay in touch, Buddy and remember, the “JIM MORTON, not for Timmys” coffee is always fresh.

Gino

P.S. The 1955 ¾ Ton “Provost Paddy Wagon” finally made its way to “CIMENT HILL” and decided to stay and call it home. It purrs like a kitten but I guess it’s like all those “old things” that are no longer deemed useful by the military, “it needs some tender loving care and an oil change”. More to follow.

IN MEMORY OF CPL NICK BULGER

Sometimes, somewhere, someone sends you something that you just know you have to keep for a special occasion. In this instance, J-C Dionne forwarded me this little poem. I only thought that in this once more somber moment, I’d let circulate out there in cyberspace.



“IN MEMORY OF CORPORAL NICK BULGER”

THE FINAL INSPECTION

The soldier stood and faced God,

Which must always come to pass.

He hoped his shoes were shining,

Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you soldier,

How shall I deal with you?

Have you always turned the other cheek?

To My Church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,

"No, Lord, I guess I ain't.

Because those of us who carry guns,

Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,

And at times my talk was tough.

And sometimes I've been violent,

Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny,

That wasn't mine to keep...

Though I worked a lot of overtime,

When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,

Though at times I shook with fear.

And sometimes,

God, forgive me,

I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place,

Among the people here.

They never wanted me around,

Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here,

Lord,

It needn't be so grand.

I never expected or had too much,

But if you don't,

I'll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne,

Where the saints had often trod.

As the soldier waited quietly,

For the judgment of his God.

Step forward now, you soldier,

You've borne your burdens well.

Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets;

You've done your time in Hell."

~Author Unknown~

THE TATTERED FLAG

THE TATTERED FLAG

When young Bobbie showed up at “CIMENT HILL” on that warm sunny afternoon, last July 08, I knew I had entered a new era. Standing there by his proud grandfather, he didn’t look like that kid I had seen grow up through out the years. Tall and proud, he had lost all that baby fat and was definitely a changed person. Discreetly inspecting him from head to toes, I couldn’t but feel totally amazed as to how the “Combat School” system continued to produce such quality soldiers. Here in front of me, stood this muscle bound infantryman who had the needed confidence to take on the world. For this young man, it had been a life long ambition to continue the family tradition and as soon as he turned seventeen (17) years old and with his parents consent, he had joined the Canadian Forces. He was more than well-pleased with this accomplishment as he was the third generation of the “Buteau” family to serve with the famous French Canadian “Royal 22ieme Regiment”.

While I was giving him the grand tour of the monument, he was talking a mile a minute, filling my ear with his “Valcartier” war stories. I had heard many versions of these escapades throughout the years so couldn’t really get excited about them anymore. However, when he announced to me that he was scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan in April 09, now that got my attention. Looking at Robert, the oldest “Buteau”, stare at the hill, I knew what he was most likely thinking about. Just like me, he was probably hoping that he would not have to pour a cement bag for his grandson in a near future.

For those just joining us and who don’t have a clue as to what I’m talking about, here is a brief history of the project. A few years back, when the Canadian Government decided that they would no longer lower the flag on Parliament Hill for a fallen soldier, this did not sit well with me. Just like too many proud Canadians, I could not understand the logic behind this decision, thus took it upon myself to do something about it. Let’s face it, somewhere in this great country of ours, someone needed to continue this tradition. The men and women dying for this nation, needed to be recognized elsewhere than on a military base even if it was somewhere nowhere in Northern New-Brunswick. I went to the local welding shop and had a flag pole fabricated. When it came time to erect it, I had estimated that twenty-five (25) bags would be needed to secure this thing in the ground. At the time, on the day I went to the hardware store to buy the concrete, two more soldiers were killed, bringing the total amount of casualties to twenty-seven (27). This gave me the idea that I would pour a bag of cement at the base of the pole on every occasion they would announce another additional fatality. As of today, 120 bags have been poured in their honor and sadly, it keeps on growing.

So when young Pte Buteau made a smart comment about my flag’s condition, I soon came to its defense, explaining that because of restricted budgets, it was still good enough to serve as an Ambassador at Baisley Lodges. I agreed with him that it was in sad shape but there were reasons as to why it was faded and tattered. What was not said at that moment was the fact that it was older than him and had been at my side since 1983.

You see, this particular Canadian Flag had been given to me by my father-in-law when I left for Germany in Jun 83. Standing there on the tarmac at CFB Winnipeg, he had managed to by-pass the AMU security and was waiting for Fran and I to board the plane. “Gino,” he yelled over the sounds of the equipment servicing the Boeing 707, “take this with you. If you ever get homesick, open the envelope.” I had put the brown package in my briefcase and had forgotten about it for almost a year when one day I remembered what he had said about being homesick. It had been a rough start for me at CFB Lahr. My sponsor had screwed me royally and after buying all her junky furniture, I had to throw it all out because it was infested with bacteria and bed bugs. As if this was not enough, my mother was suffering from breast cancer and my father had just passed away.

Sitting there in the investigation section in Kubach, I was swamped with paperwork and didn’t know where to put my head. Feeling a bit overwhelmed if not discouraged, I was looking for something else when I came across that same brown envelope. I had forgotten about it for all this time but thought that this would be a good occasion to see what “Old Joe” McIntyre had given me. I ripped it open and withdrew the brand new flag. On a piece of paper that accompanied it, was written, “Good Luck in Germany and remember. You’re Canadian.” Other than his signature, I didn’t recognize any of the other names but realized that a bunch of WWII veterans from the #4 Branch of the Canadian Legion had taken the time to wish me luck. I know it was all in my mind but when I put the red and white cloth to my nose, it smelt like Canada. At the same moment, I heard the noise of the door to the building open. It was the 01 Jul 84 and a statutory holiday so I was curious to see who would also be coming in on his day off. Standing there in the doorway, this person was nobody that I recognized but from his straight like commanding posture and the “Armories” on his uniform sleeve, I knew that I’d have to call him “Sir”.

“Good Afternoon,” he said extending his friendly hand, “my name is CWO Robert Buteau. I was told that I’d find Gino Roussel here.” “That would be me” I replied not too sure what he wanted. “Your father was a long time friend of mine and I just wanted to tell you that I had talked to him just before he died and that he was really proud of you.” I was kind of surprised to hear this as my “old man” was not one to let his feelings known to me. However, just hearing these caring words brighten my day and was the added incentive that I needed to carry on and enjoy my tour in Germany. This was to be my first meeting with the Buteau family.

When I met the second generation of Buteau, it was a few years later, while in Bosnia. I was lying in bed, staring at the same flag hanging on my bedroom wall, wondering what I was doing in this hell hole. It had been a rough few months and we weren’t out of the woods yet. The fact that I was supposed to send one of the young corporals on leave was not that much of a big deal in the scheme of things but to him it was important. I had been trying to get answers to my questions but was not getting anywhere. This was to be one of these small things that when compiled with all the other daily frustrations made it that I was going to blow my top. I got out of bed, yanked the “Maple Leaf” off the wall and for some deranged reason; I was going to take it out on it. I was pulling on trying to rip it apart when it brushed against my face. Here was that smell again. Call it strange if you want but it had this distinctive smell that one can only associate with Canada. The particular perfume had a calming effect on me and I started to think straight. “Grab your gear, Steph!” I told that young corporal. “You’re going on vacation.” “Yeah, but how are we supposed to get through? The Serbs are blocking the roads to Gracac and the Croats are shooting at anything that moves.” “Don’t worry about that. Just meet me at the jeep.” I went down to the Guardhouse, told the boys about my crazy plan and asked for volunteers for a second vehicle escort. They didn’t even hesitate at the proposition as all of them wanted to come. Just like me, they were tired of being intimidated by these people and wanted to pass the message that “We were Canadians” and we were tired of their “bullshit”. We secured that flag on the whip antenna of the front jeep under the “UN” one and took off. Armed to the teeth, we drove off in two jeeps and the trip to destination was uneventful. When we did get to that Serbian road block, I don’t know if they thought it was a VIP in the vehicle or simply because they saw the Canadian Flag flapping in the wind but they signaled us to pass without even having the audacity of challenging us. Not only did we get through but young Cpl Dumais received a complimentary salute from the guard manning the post. When we got to CANBAT and got within the compound, we got stares like you wouldn’t believe. Everybody was wondering who these “cowboys” were but except for one Lieutenant, nobody said anything. As for that “snot nose”, well when he tried to put his grain of salt, he soon found out that I wasn’t in the mood for any further crap and retreated. I went to the Welfare Office where I met MCpl Louis Buteau. A very nice guy just like his father, he was most cooperative. He decided to pull a few favors and my young guy was out of town and on his way home the very next morning.

So when Bobby showed up at “CIMENT HILL” last summer, I knew he would be the right man for the job. For reasons that only a true soldier can understand, it was important for me to establish that true connection that would link the Memorial to Afghanistan. I had attempted re-enlisting but this door had been slammed shut in my face. So if I was to be denied the honor of serving in theater, at least my flag would get to visit Asia. In December 2008, when the 100th casualty fell, I knew it had served me well so before it was totally destroyed by the wind, it was lowered for a last time and properly folded. The now so-called “rag” had made quite the statement wherever it had traveled but before retirement it would go on another mission.

In Mar 09, accompanied by his grandfather Robert, Pte Buteau returned to visit and say goodbye before deployment. Talking to this young but now mature young eighteen (18) year old, it was learned that his unit had undergone extensive training with the Americans and from what he described, he was well prepared. A sour note was when he related that in Quebec City, home to the “VanDoos”, the soldiers weren’t supported that much by the general population. It was so bad that they weren’t allowed to walk downtown with their uniforms on as it brought them constant trouble. Apparently they were regularly harassed and this to the point where some civvies were arrogant enough to spit on them. You could tell that this really bothered him as he just couldn’t comprehend as to why soldiers fighting for their country, would be treated like that. Seeing that the young man needed some encouragement, I thought that this would be the perfect occasion to set my plan in motion. I got up and retrieved my “flag” from inside the coffee table. I handed it to him with the strict instructions that it was only a loan and that it had be returned to me after his tour. I now explained the history behind it and that if he was homesick, he was to feel and even smell it as it might just put certain realities in perspective. If at one point, morale was low in his platoon, he was to pin it up somewhere and tell his friends that whatever was said or done back home, there was this crazy old fool way out there in nowhere New-Brunswick that had built a memorial and that not only was he supporting them he was wholeheartedly proud of their effort. It turned out to be quite the touching moment and all three sitting in the “Bunkhouse” couldn’t hold back the tears, especially when he said, “Pas de problème, Adjudant. Je vais faire ça pour vous.” On that note, we all stepped out for some fresh air and he was gone…

Three weeks ago, when Pte Alexandre Péloquin was killed, it really struck a chord with his friends, in Bobby Buteau’s section. The reality of war had brutally punched them in the face. Although details are sketchy, it is known that the “Canadian Flag” again worked its magic and that the whole of Kandahar now knows of its existence. I know that keeper of the flag is looking after it quite well as according to his grandfather, Bobby built a cedar case for it and it is traveling under the protection of a “Royal 22ieme Regiment” escort in the form of a brass beaver cap badge on the lid.

You’d think that the story stops there but it doesn’t. Last week, this gray Toyota sporting another Canadian flag, pulled in my yard. Out of it came out this patriotic eighty-six (86) year old man, looking for a certain Mr Roussel. He didn’t have to introduce himself as Mr Lehman, a WW II veteran because his reputation was well known in the city of Edmundston. I certainly knew who he was as I would often see this local legend in his Legion uniform, chest full of medals visiting sick Legionnaires at the hospital or carrying the flag at their funerals. Very formal and polite, he explained that he had heard of “CIMENT HILL” and wanted to pay his respects to the fallen troops. To have the site visited by such a man was a real honor for me but when he later congratulated me for erecting it, I wasn’t expecting what he was about to say. “You know Mr Roussel, when we fought in WW II, we visited hell but we knew who the enemy was. For those poor bastards out there, it’s a different ball game. They don’t know who to shoot at and they’re living in hell. As far as I’m concerned, they’re the true veterans.” To have the draconian effort of the Canadian troops in Afghanistan recognized by such a reputable individual meant way much more to me than anything our politicians might blur out. Like we would say, he’s been there, done it and has the experience to back his statement. To be acknowledged as true “Combat Veterans” from such a reputable source is probably the best compliment the “Boyz” in the big sand box will ever receive. Hopefully, somebody reading this text will have the means to transmit this message to them.

From what I was listening to on the news, we are at a stage of the conflict where our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, need to hear that the Canadian population is still behind them 100 %. For me, well I’ll do something different tomorrow for Canada Day. I’ll raise the flag as a true patriot but upside down. Some might consider this a scandalous gesture and some might even think I’m off my rockers. Either way, it will be done. I strongly believe that it’s about time that somebody stands up to our politicians and send them a distress call. I do support our troops but strongly believe that it’s time for someone else to step up and carry the load of the “Panjway District”. Can you imagine just for a second that Prime Minister Harper would wake up one beautiful Canada Day morning, look out the window and see all these upside down flags. He would literally flip. Now can you imagine if the message was sent Canada wide? Our elected members of Parliament might just consider it twice before extending our troop commitment, beyond 2011. Trust me, it's coming.

Peace on Earth to One and All. And remember together we can make a difference.

Gino

P.S. Oh by the way, Happy Canada Day, Folks!