My dad Roy was born in 1915 in Grahamdale, Manitoba. One of nine kids, dad was the son of German immigrant farmers. It was a poor and hard life. The local excitement was to go down to the rail station on Saturday nights and see who got off the train.
Dad grew up as a farmer, baseball player and a forest warden with little formal schooling and lots of hard, hard work.
At the outbreak of the Second World War, dad (along with his two brothers) immediately signed up, and soon shipped out as a member of the 12th Field Company—Royal Canadian Engineers. From 1939 to 1945, dad furthered his skillset training and travelling up and down the U.K., moving up in rank (and back again), finally being deployed to Italy, France, the Netherlands and Germany. Dad's bravery and actions under fire were recognized, and he was "Mentioned in Dispatches" eventually achieving the rank of Sergeant, which stuck.
He met his life's love, Eileen Rose Peters, during the war, in London where they married... needing his officer's written permission to do so. Mom often would say that dad was the "smartest-dressed soldier" she ever saw.
Their wedding pictures were filled with brave and far too young soldiers and beautiful friends of the bride. Things were so tight in war-time England that mom's wedding dress had already been worn by two previous brides.
Injured during the war, dad spent time at Shaughnessy Hospital in Vancouver, built the family home in North Vancouver and worked for Canada Post. He passed far too young at just 49 years of age.
I think of him often, and honour him and his memory every year on Remembrance Day at the Whistler cenotaph.
