A Week in the Trenches

(Guest Post by Zachary du Kamp)

May 8 1940

1000hours

Dear log

I have been in the trenches for days. My dugout is almost full; there are too many people. The Germans have attacked Poland and I have been told that we aren't too far from being their next target. They brought tanks and flak guns. I've been told that they are fast shooting anti-infantry artillery guns. They told us not to fear.

1700hours

A new division has come to support us. I fear the worst. France is mobilizing and I’m in the front lines.

May 9 1940

1300hours

Dear log

My best friend joined my squad; I was both thrilled and scared. I tried to tell him to go home but he said he can’t. When I asked him why; he just pointed. Then I saw the anti-air guns fire. With 3 shots I saw it spiral and smoke. I saw it was Germans. A thought rushed through my mind…..my friends were gone. My brother was gone.

2000hours

There were a few more planes shot down. There was a full tank squad coming in 2 days. A scout saw a German artillery emplacement. When we heard the news my friend ran into our dugout and found a foot of water in it.

May 10 1940

1100hours

Dear log

There was an artillery barrage for 3 hours. My hands are shaking and I can’t feel my feet. It’s been raining for hours. I am lucky; I wasn’t hit by artillery fire or one of the tank shards. The squad commander was. He was killed instantly. I am scared for my life and wishing I didn’t sign up, but I am the leader now so I must hold it together.

1800hours

My friend was shot in the arm today during the second German offensive. I got captured in the process of getting him up. He tried to get through but he was shot in the chest. He told me to carry on before I was pulled away. I saw the rest of my division get mowed down by armored cars.

May 13 1940

Time unknown

Dear log

I arrived at the P.O.W. camp to find they were full. I got processes by them and got sent to Poland. I was lucky to keep this journal during the process. I may be in and out for a few days, or weeks. But I will try to keep in touch every day.

May 14 1940

1100hours

Dear log

Today I heard that there will be a fresh shipment of prisoners. They’ve held me in the cell all day. Except when I got interrogated. It’s much colder in here than the trenches and much louder. There are men and women and the occasional child

screaming and crying. It feels dreadful.

1900hours

It’s worse than I imagined. There are less people there than when I got here. I have heard about these places; they’re cold, wet and a killing zone.

May 15 1940

1000hours

Dear log

Three more people from my division have come to this prison. I feel sad for them but also happy because they have a letter from my brother, It tells me that our home town was destroyed, but they made it out. My brother has also told me that they made a line of resistance just before Paris. I am happy that my family will live for a few more days.

200hours

They have interrogated me again. This time they were a bit rougher. One of the Officers struck me in the head. I still feel light headed. I overheard a German say that they have taken Paris with little resistance; I fear that France will fall. Canada has taken in French people. I hope my family has gone.

                                 

Under Singapore Skies

Chasing the night,

Anxious to see the dawn,

Yet comfortable in the warmth of darkness.

Reflective in silent solitude.

Remembering the past,

Savouring the present,

A nervous yet electrifying anticipation for the future.

Sometimes it’s hard to find the words.

The words to capture the love.

The words to express the calm.

They roll around my head,

Seeking their release.

Permission to dance across the page.

Desperately trying to draw this picture.

A rebirth or a reunion?

A clean slate?

Or an addition to an already familiar rhythm?

Bonds strengthened.

Defenses lowered.

The true soul bared without fear.

A tearful goodbye

Smothered incompletely

By male bravado.

The description neither matters nor devalues.

Warmth.

Love.

Respect.

Honour.

All under Singapore skies.

The Sunflower

Stand like a sunflower he said,

Reach for the sun

Whenever you can.

Spread your petals,

Drink in the warmth‎ and

Never cease chasing;

Dreams of love,

Dreams of comfort,

Dreams of all you desire.

There will be sallow days,

Days of pain and anger,

And days when end is easier.

‎There will be days of hurt,

Days of lost direction,

Clouds and storms surrounding.

But those days will end,

And the breaking morn will beam

It's rays of hope and peace.

A new ‎dawn is coming!

A new era about to break!

The battles won and distant.

Draw from your deepest place

The strength to change,

The strength to breathe new life.

Douse self doubt,

Cast out a defeated soul.

Devour the love surrounding,

‎Seep it through your skin.

Course it through your very veins,

This gift of kith and kin.

And grow tall my love,

Your face turned toward the light,

And like a sunflower, he said,

Reflect it big and bright!

The Heart Weeps

The heart weeps
The body creaks
All feels lost in confusion.
The flame so low
A distant glow
Flickering almost failing.
A world of ache
Strong will to break?
Looking for a reason.
To toil ever onward
Driving forward
To make it to the end.
Find strength my love
In God above
And all your friends surrounding.
Succumb to faith
Rejoice in love
And know that these provide
The will to win
To see the goal
To never die within.
When love seems blind
And so unkind
Take solace in the giving.
Take rest, be nurtured
Feed your soul
And look towards the future.
Feel my arms in yours
My heart surrounding
My soul a shield protection.
Dry your tears on me
And you will see
That two can combine
To lead the way
And end dismay
The power of love surpassing.

The Kiss of the Wind

Don't look too hard......

The Kiss of the Wind

That breeze you feel on a warm May day

As you wander down the lane,

That touch of comfort that soothes your heart

And drives away the pain.

That brief respite, a moment's lull,

A leap from the abyss,

That feeling of a memory gold;

Bathe in my summer's kiss.

I may not touch you with my flesh

My arms may not entwine,

But that wind's caress my dear

Is my soul forever thine.

We may no longer walk hand in hand,

No words, yet volumes spoken

For in your mind our thoughts run paired,

A true love never forsaken.

Run up that hill, scale that wall,

Live your life with all your being!

Because you my love, my Angel Girl

Must fight hard and keep on living.

For in that act, my heart still beats

My soul on yours still dancing.

A diamond dream, a destiny borne

An eternity of joy romancing.

I feel your pain, I watch your tears

Through long nights never ending.

I see your heart weighed down with grief,

I see your knees a-bending.

But rise my love, let demons fly

Think not of me with sorrow.

Reach in and grasp those memories deep,

Take my hand and with it borrow

The strength you need to rise above

And reach for higher ground,

Remember my smile, my touch, my taste

And let love and joy abound.

I may not lie there in early morn

When the bed no longer feels

That warm support, a refuge strong

To ward off all life's ills.

But that breeze that spreads a tingle

And never will it's target miss

That my darling is my warm embrace,

My everlasting kiss.

Goodnight Baby Boy

'Goodnight Baby Boy'

'Daddy, I'm not a baby anymore, I'm eleven'

So ricocheted the words from my eldest son's lips last Saturday at bedtime. We had said our prayers and his (vast array of pillows) were aligned in a haphazard, yet perfectly aligned, manner. His favourite blanky cocooned his body and my goodnight kisses still tingled on his face. The night light was on (despite the vocal protestations of his brother some 30 minutes earlier before he had submitted to sleep) and we had said our prayers. I seem to recall a discussion on why the Queen of England shouldn't be the Queen of Canada (I am raising an eco-terrorist-anti-monarchist).....a discussion conducted despite losing consciousness momentarily because of the cheese like emanations from his feet. His clothes lay strewn across the floor and his coat that he had been reminded three times to hang up, wasn't.

Earlier that day we had walked hand in hand across the parking lot before entering the grocery store. Even earlier, I had requested and received a public kiss.....horror of horrors!....and not just a peck on the cheek I might add! It had been a big 'ole wet lip smacker followed by guffaws of laughter as I had to dry my face!
Around 11pm the night before a bleary eyed eleven year old had stumbled into my room seeking solace and comfort after a bad dream. We had sat and rocked together for a good 15 minutes, after which I had sucked out any remaining bad dreams from his head (a la The Green Mile), before returning him to the comfort of his bed. He, of course, had no memory of these events the following morning.

See, despite his most fervent self proclamations, my Man-Child of eleven years old isn't quite ready to cast aside the mantle of 'baby boy'. When he is either at his most vulnerable, or when the warm grasp of his Father's hand is a welcome home, the little man reverts back to being a baby boy.

And I love it.

I don't think I will ever be ready to say 'goodbye' to my baby boys. I'll watch as they get taller, grow whiskers and become the wonderful men i know they will be. I'll watch Zachary as he tries to understand this world and balance compassion with directness. I'll watch Logan as he strives to find order in an ever changing world. I'll watch them love and be loved. I'll watch them bring light to the lives of others. But as I do, always, always looking at me will be the eyes of my baby boys.

I will still see the wide eyed wonder, the inquisitive mind, the delicious directness and the compassionate hand that were gifted to Zachary at his birth.

I will still see the deep and warm heart, the desire to serve and the strength to hold firm to a belief that was gifted to Logan at his birth.

I will still see my baby boys.

So get used to it Zachary.....and you too Logi Bear! You will always be my baby boys and there isn't anything you can do about it. Now come over here and give your Old Man a big wet smoochy woochy kiss.

Distance and Destiny

My Grandfather died when I was 10 years old and unfortunately my memories of him are few and far between. The memories I do have of him are of a quiet and distant man. I am sure that he loved his grandchildren and was gentle with them, but again, unfortunately, those memories are cloudy and hidden by the haze of a childhood long passed. This saddens me because my Grandfather was a true hero.

Like so many of his era my Grandfather put his life on the line to safeguard the freedom of his family, both those that already existed and also those that were yet to come. He spent much of the war fighting in Italy and was decorated a number of times. Had his heroics occurred during a 'quiet' period he may have even been awarded the Victoria Cross. Exact details of his actions are sketchy unfortunately. His heroism, however, is not.

At this time of the year its almost impossible not to catch a show that commemorates the sacrifices our forebears made during the various conflicts that have scarred humanity. As a documentary junkie I have caught more than my fair share. I love seeing the old grainy black and white footage. The thing that grabs my attention the most, however, are the interviews with those that fought. Men and women from both sides; all sharing the common memory of broken bodies, broken minds and broken lives. Some 60 years later these dark memories are still vivid in their minds. Comrades blown apart next to them; comrades left to flounder and die in a fiery oil slick; innocent women and children blanketed by carpet bombing. These were good people who were asked to do horrific things....in the name of duty, in the name of honour, in the name of survival and in the name of hope. Many still weep as they recall their experiences; many others keep a silent watch in an effort to maintain sanity. What is clear in all cases is that war is ugly and that war claims many more victims than those that lie in honour on the battlefield.

During a trip back home (to the UK) last month I visited my Grandfather's grave for the first time in a very long time. He died in 1976 and I can probably count on one hand, to my shame, the number of times I have visited his grave since then. I was lucky to have both of my sons with me this visit and I was able to share with them a part of their family history. They were not the ones who received the biggest education, however. That honour was mine. I left that cemetery with a renewed admiration for this man and the sacrifices he had made for me. As an adult I have a better understanding of the horrors that he would have experienced during his service for King and Country and it has made me realize that maybe some of the distance he showed in later years was actually his way of coping with the atrocities he had faced.

So although most of my memories of my Grandfather are hazy, there is one that pierces the haze like a lightening bolt. That memory is of a man who placed his own life on the line for me. A man who fought for my rights and my freedoms. A man, who like so many sacrificed so much.

Raymond Thomas du Kamp - a true hero.

I salute you Grandpa. The phrase 'thank you' will never be enough.