I moved to Canada from France in June. Before joining the dynamic Memory Project: Stories of the Second World War team at the beginning of October, I worked as an Assistant Conservator at the National French Army Museum (located in the Hôtel des Invalides) in Paris. As Collections Coordinator, each day I gather new artefacts and memorabilia that Canadian veterans have either sent us by mail or given us in person, during our interviews with them across Canada. My first event took place two weeks ago in Kelowna, British Columbia. It was three intense days of interviews with WWII Canadian veterans who, for the most part, demonstrated an amazing sense of humour despite the atrocities they experienced. Each veteran brought along memorabilia, and these items helped us to better understand the context and background of this Historical period. I was able to take pictures and scan various rare and interesting artefacts, such as a navigation device used by Mr. Brown when he was Commanding Officer of the Air Force. During our time in Kelowna, Mr. Holliday showed us an amazing item: a map of Burma printed on silk which was given to soldiers in the event their planes were shot down and they were captured by the enemy. Using this map, which was sewed into their jump suit, they could locate their site of action. Memories of the Second World War come in various forms; they are passed down orally through interviews and they can also be found in visual artefacts which, I truly believe, are essential in helping us to understand this war.
The Memory Project: Stories of the Second World War strikes a personal chord with me. My grandfather, Private Paul-Émile Givogue enlisted in the Royal Canadian Army on January 11, 1943 and was active in the Second World War until he was discharged in 1946. My grandfather kept brief notes of his daily routine in a journal, and as a youth I interviewed him for a school project; I listened and recorded his war stories as he recounted his experiences using his notebook as reference. The one story told most often in my family is the one when my grandfather met his two older brothers, Ubald and Armand Givogue, on V-E Day in Trafalgar Square in London, England, after not seeing each other for four years. Armand was on leave from the front, and knowing that Ubald was based in England decided to visit him there, but he did not know that my grandfather was also there. The three brothers met up, and joined the Londoners in their celebrations, recalling that they could hardly walk given the crowds on the streets. The brothers would return home to Cornwall, Ontario a year later in 1946, when the family celebrated their homecoming. In 2007, my grandfather passed away, my family members will never forget his stories; my father has all of my grandfather’s war memorabilia, including his notebook. I will always regret not having a chance to interview and record all my grandfather’s stories as part of our project, but listening to other veterans’ stories helps me to better understand what my grandfather saw and experienced in the war.
Yesterday WWII veteran Earl Stiles couriered a piece of shrapnel, about half the size of the palm of my hand - this particular piece of shrapnel is a fragment from an 88 millimetre anti-aircraft and anti-tank shell shot from a German 88 which landed only a few feet from Mr. Stiles in 1944. Before I joined the Memory Project in early September 2009, I was uncertain about how open WWII veterans would be to discussing their war-time memories; after all, these events occurred over 60 years ago and often involve extremely challenging conditions and experiences. Since working here, however, I have been impressed at the overall openness and willingness of our veterans to share such often difficult memories. Not only do they share their memories, but they entrust their priceless artefacts with us as we digitize and archive them. Earlier today another veteran, who had served in Burma, mentioned how difficult it was for him to discuss certain events. Yet, in talking about his grief about Burma’s current political state, he expressed his hope that in sharing his stories through our project, he will help future generations know about war and the importance of avoiding it. His dedication to helping society, in addition to his service in World War Two, demonstrates that he, like all of our Memory Project volunteers, is a true Canadian hero.
The primary motivation behind The Memory Project is the fact that so many Second World War veterans are growing older or passing on. I know this first-hand. My grandfather, Harvey Theobald, a veteran of the Fort Garry Horse, will soon be 89 and recently underwent a major operation. My grandmother, Jean McIntyre, a veteran of the Royal Canadian Air Force, passed away in 2006. I deeply regret that I never discussed the war with my grandmother, despite the fact that the photographs that decorated her home made clear that it was among the defining experiences of her life. In ten weeks of working for The Memory Project, I have discovered just how common these circumstances are throughout Canada. This gives my work with The Memory Project an impetus that I have rarely experienced before. It helps immensely that, for the most part, I have found Second World War veterans to be amazingly receptive to the project’s goal of creating a legacy for Canadians. A defining example of this comes from a September visit to the Sunnybrook Veterans’ Residences in Toronto. My colleagues and I spent four days meeting veterans and discussing their years of service, both in formal interviews and general conversation. One gentleman returned to the area where we had set up our displays and equipment day after day, but he had great difficulty communicating with us. After spending some time with him, it became evident that he simply wished to be acknowledged as a veteran, even though a formal interview was no longer possible. It is gratifying to work for a project that grants all interested Second World War veterans the same opportunity to be recognized.