I got to thinking the other day about my own family’s military service. There’s quite a lot of it.
Then yesterday I read about Holly Petraeus’ long-time service to soldier’s families, and that she can trace military service in her own family back to the Revolution.
My brother, sister and a sister-in-law all joined the Canadian Armed Forces soon after finishing high school, although only briefly, as it turned, out for all three.
My brother was not, erm, how shall I put it, politically suited to life in the army, being at heart an anarchist (his words). So that didn’t last long. He did get into a prestigious forces university, but by Christmastime his behaviour there was such that he was called to a meeting with the commanding officer of the place, who asked him if perhaps he didn’t think they could rub along without each other. He eventually became a lawyer, specialising in poking The Man (scummy landlords, for instance) in the eye with a sharp stick.
My sister joined up soon after high school, and I think it was her one last (vain) attempt to get a little love and respect out of my parents (very pro-military), who never treated her very well during her time at home. It lasted a few months, she quit, and they disowned her. But she did meet a good man there, well, a good-enough man, who became the father of my dear nephew. Eventually she got a job in a bank and rose to quite a high position.
My sister-in-law joined because she was in a no-hoper of a town as regards jobs and careers. She stuck with them long enough to acquire some discipline and skills (accounting) which she expanded upon after she left, and things have turned out well for her.
It seems safe to say that in all three cases, their military experience had a beneficial effect, if not the expected one.
My father and mother both served in the U.K. army in World War II. She as a stenography, in London, during the Blitz. And sometimes in Kent, where the air force was based. One gathers, from half-told stories, that there were romances with more than one fighter pilot.
My father was a radio operator in an armoured car, with a lot of service in Belgium. He was with the troupes who liberated one of the concentration camps. Don’t know which one, he never talked about it much. I don’t think he ever recovered from it.
My maternal grandfather fought in WWI in France, in the trenches. He was gassed towards the end of the war and died of that in 1920. He survived just long enough after being injured that his family (six children) didn’t qualify for a pension.
My paternal grandfather served in WWI, and also prior to that in the Khyber Pass, which connects Afghanistan and Pakistan, then India. My knowledge of this is spotty, but it seems to have been around 1900.
After that, I have no sure knowledge. But consider. Two families, one Scottish (Dad, Glasgow) and one English (Mum, Cambridge). Given all the wars going on all through U.K. history, it’s a safe bet that every generation sent soldiers to whatever war was going on. They were never wealthy, so probably going soldiering was a reasonable alternative when jobs in the mines (Dad’s family, going back many generations) or clerking jobs (Mum’s lot) were lacking.
How about your own families? What do you know, and what can you speculate on? Do please share.
Photo: the Khyber Pass in 2007, with regimental signs. Photographer: Anthony Maw. Via Wiki.
