by Rev. E.G. Hansell

Dedication

Affectionately dedicated to the crew of Halifax Bomber "X" LK 917 from R.C.A.F. Squadron 434, which went down over unknown enemy territory September 27th, 1943.

The gallant crew, -- a noble brotherhood:

P/O. Orville Lytle (Pilot) F/S. R C. Pedlar (Navigator) F/S. J.H.T. Monteith (Bombardier) Sergt. H. Lindsay (Fl. Engineer) Sergt. M.D. Chasmar (Wireless Op. A.G.) F/S. Harry E. Hansell (Air Gunner) F/S. J.A. Leach (Air Gunner) Sergt. E. Elder (Extra Pilot - not shown)

"My marks and scars I carry with me to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles who now will be my reward. So he passed over and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side." – From Bunyan’s "Pilgrim’s Progress."

Inscribed on the altar in memorial chamber of the Peace Tower. Parliament Buildings, Ottawa.

MY S0N IS MISSING

Tonight I am going to deal with a subject you would not expect a politician to deal with. As a matter of fact it is as far removed from politics as anything could ever be. I want to come into your home as a friend; a friend whom some of you may need. I want to talk especially to those of you whose hearts are heavy because you have lost a son, or another relative, in this present war. Oh, no, don't turn off the radio just because you are not included in this number. The war is not yet over, and you, too, may some day receive a telegram marked "Casualty".

I come to you not as one who wants to tell you something, but as one who wants to share with you the burden which fate seems to have imposed upon you, for I too have lost a son. I know, as you know, and am touched with the same feelings you have experienced, and perhaps I can, therefore, speak as one with you in the same affliction.

In the exuberance of youth, seeking new experiences and adventure, and realizing that here was a chance to really do something, that boy went forth to do battle with the tyranny of the oppressor and offered to lay his life on the altar of sacrifice for freedom's sake. Perhaps your feelings were quite mixed when he enlisted. You did not like to say "no". His country needed him. Yet, you knew to say "yes" may mean to give the very best you had.

l know something of what it means to stand on the railway station platform and say, "Good-bye.," to this boy of your affections. There was the last kiss or handshake; there was the vain attempt to stifle emotions; there was a tear and a sob; then came that silent prayer, "0 God, bless my boy and bring him safely back again to me." Perhaps a friend, or one you least expected, cheered you a bit and said with you, "God bless and protect him." That friend you will never forget.

Might I say here, no matter what your feelings may have been at this moment of parting, those feelings were quite mutual, for he knew he was saying goodbye to the dearest Mother and the grandest Dad in the world, or, was it a wife, or sister, or brother?

Perhaps you left the station feeling that after all your boy would come through; God would be good to you and spare your son from the fate of many others.

Then came the anxious hours of waiting for news of his safe arrival overseas. It came and you rejoiced. Then his letters began to come. You read them and re-read them with the greatest of care---every word, every line. In fact you tried to read between the lines, if perchance, you might discover his actual thoughts. He did not say much about his experiences. He was not allowed to. Perhaps, like many boys, he was not given much to letter writing, but he told you what he could; always wanted to be remembered to all the family and friends, and always thanked you a lot for those parcels you sent to him.

And then came news that he was on Active Service, sailing the high seas, always in the face of danger, or on the battle fields facing enemy guns. Or, it may have been he was flying over enemy territory combating the roaring, death-dealing enemy fighter planes. These were anxious days for you, weren't they? Ah! yes! But they were for him, too, and he never complained.

Then came that fatal day. You will never forget it. A knock on the door, or the doorbell rang,-a telegram - your heart almost stopped, -

"THE GOVERNMENT REGRETS TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON SO-&-SO - NUMBER R______, WAS KILLED IN ACTION. "

Or perhaps it was,
'MISSING AFTER AIR OPERATIONS OVER ENEMY TERRITORY, LETTER FOLLOWING."

I know how your heart was torn and what you went through. The letter did follow, but it did not give you much further information or comfort, did it? For days, weeks-yes, it may have been months, you went through a time of .the soul's greatest test. You thought, and thought, and thought. Sleep failed you in the night as you tried to imagine what had happened or how he died. If he were missing, a million thoughts went through your mind. Did he bail out? At what altitude was he flying? If his plane were knocked out of the sky, how much time did he have in which to bail out? If he bailed out successfully, was he now in enemy hands, and how were they treating him? Or, was he roaming the country in a fearful attempt to escape? What happened? "Oh, if you had only been there", you would have known. But you weren't there, you were thousands of miles away. That made it much harder.

Throughout those anxious days you recalled many of the little experiences you had with him as a boy. Perhaps, you recalled your first experience as you 'held him in your arm's as a child. How often you wondered how he would turn out. Would he be a great doctor, lawyer,-or a great humanitarian or leader of men? What would be his destiny? Little did you think that before he was very old he would lay down his life for his country. Perhaps you traced his life through from the beginning, - remembering, his little pranks; recalling his laughter or chatter. If he did anything that hurt you, all these things were forgiven now, and, after all, perhaps your own faults stood out more than his. If you now feel a bit sorry for some of the things you may have done, that is all right too. You don't think he hold's anything against you, do you? Why, of course not.

If you, eventually, heard that he was a prisoner of war your heart rejoiced, as you knew he was alive and safe. But if, on the other hand, you learned that he would never come back, that was a blow you could hardly take. Your grief was beyond expression. This was the time when your soul cried out with one of God's great men of old:

"My son, my son, would God that I had died for thee." This was a time when your faith was sorely tried. Was there a God after all? And if so, was He all powerful? Why did He not protect and spare your boy? You had prayed for him in your own humble way. Why did God not answer your prayer? Did He not care any more? This, and many other questions, I cannot answer. I would not dare to try. One thing I do know, and that is, That God knows, and he does care. His ways are not our ways, for "as high as the heavens are above the earth, so are God's ways above our ways, and His thoughts above our thoughts." I have learned enough to know that our heavenly Father doeth all things well.

Finite minds like ours cannot understand these great mysteries of life and death, although; when you were going through this time of trial, you did think about eternal things. Heaven may not be so far away; it may be that only a very thin veil separates us from the great beyond.

Now, while we may have our moments of doubt, bewilderment and sorrow, I think if our boys could' talk to us they would say, "Never mind, Mom n' Dad. It is all right now. I did my best in the fight. You carry on. You have a battle to fight too. It is a fight for a better world. Yours is the fight based on faith, it is a fight for the right."

"Fight the good fight with all thy might
Christ is thy strength and Christ thy light;
Lay hold on life and it shall be,
Thy joy and Crown eternally."

Yes, friends, we must carry on as they would have us do. This is a sad old world. I think you will agree with me, that there is something radically wrong with these man-made systems that bring about such catastrophes with their accompanying pain and woe such as we have witnessed in a single generation.

The fact is, that the world, for the most part, has turned it’s back upon God. Man, bent on his own self-importance and independence of God, has well-nigh wrecked civilization and, in spite of all this, a long-suffering God is still interested in man's welfare, for He, too, sacrificed a Son, that the world might find the better way.

"For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." God has done all He can to save the world by the gift of His Son, our Saviour. To see that Christ has His rightful place in this world, is the fight our departed boys would now have us carry through. And this battle we must fight together, as our boys fought together in that bomber, or on that ship, or in the small company of men on the battle field.

I could tell from the letters I received from my boy that the friendship of these lads grew into a binding affection for each other. In a bomber flying over Germany, for instance, one man's life depended upon what the other man did. A safe return meant that each one of the crew had played his part perfectly. Should one have been wounded, I know that the others were reluctant to leave him alone. They would live, they would fight, and they would die together.

A story appeared in the Readers' Digest not long ago, which serves as an illustration. The bomber had been almost ripped apart by German cannon. The ball turret gunner was badly wounded and stuck in the blister on the under side of the fuselage. Crewmen worked frantically to extricate the youngster, but there was nothing they could do. They began to jump.

The terror-stricken lad screamed in fear, as he saw what was happening. The last man to jump heard the remaining crewman, a gunner, say, "Take it easy kid, we'll take this ride together."

Let us, who remain behind, fight this good fight together.

When God gave His only begotten son to die for this world of guilty rebels, "They two went together", for we read in holy writ that "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself." The Christ who gave His all for us and rose again for our justification, is not going to leave us alone when we are called upon to go through our Valley of the Shadow.

I think, if the Saviour of men could talk to us in that still, small voice of conscious understanding; we would hear Him say, as we are overwrought with trouble, - "Take it easy, friend, give me your hand, and we will go through this together."

And I am certain that if we listen to His word and take His hand, he will lead us on and through until the day dawns and the shadows flee away, when once again we will meet that dear boy of our affections.

May God bless you, is my prayer.

A Poem
The following was composed in 1943 by Sgt. Maurice Dudley Chasmer, wireless operator - Air Gunner of the crew.

"I would not have you grieve when I am gone,
I have no sorrow that my life is spent,
As happy a man as ever sun shone on,
My life has been a joy, and I'm content.
I have known the glory of an English day,
The soft whisper of rain on grateful trees,
The happy song of birds at break of day,
The drifting wood-smoke on the evening breeze.
No regrets that all these things are fled,
I shall find joy whatever lies ahead."

"He (Jesus) Died of a Broken Heart" - sequenced by - Edward Naber