During the 2nd World War, I lived minutes from the Atlantic Ocean and at night I could hear the planes flying overhead, the last time the pilot and crew would see land until they arrived in Europe.
I used to wonder how many would return, well not all did.
I had family in World War I, World War II, the Korean War, peacetime in France, Afghanistan and they all came home – but not all families could say this.
Mrs. Cuffin across the street from me lost her two sons. Mrs. McDonald around the corner lost her only child. These words could be heard across the country.
The day your community honours veterans, go to the parade, clap as loud as you can when the men and women pass you, arms swinging in unison, medals shining over their hearts and if you can, go to the cenotaph.
When that bugler plays the last post, remember all those who did not come home.
It’s the right thing to do.
Elizabeth Miles, age 87