My brother bob lived an entire lifetime by the time he was twenty-three.
During World War Two, he joined the RCAF on his eighteenth birthday, was rapidly trained as a pilot and shipped off to England to pilot a Lancaster bomber, the biggest of them all.
Each mission was some thirty-odd assigned flights over enemy territory and during the second round of missions his plane was hit by enemy fire and in flames.
He ordered his crew out and as he was preparing to exit, he saw lights below and realized he was flying over a town; he stayed long enough to get the plane over uninhabited countryside.
Then he evacuated suffering burns to his face and hands.
He landed in a tree and a neighboring farmer found him the next morning. Turns out he was in neutral Sweden and in time was reunited with his crew and eventually sent back to England, where he signed up for a third tour.
He earned a DFC.
The lady in uniform is Bob's wife Doe. She joined the air force believing she would be used as a secretary. She had studied danced for most of her young life, primarily ballet, and the Air Force chose to put her into tap shoes in an entertainment unit for the troops,touring England and France.
She and Bob met on a blind date, married in London and they were returned to Canada at war's end. They were both twenty-three.
Each year on November 11, they head off to their local Legion Hall and from there they take part in the ceremonies and people treat them with respect and gratitude.
This touches them dearly.
Bob had a massive heart attack a few months ago and it took all his strength to get to the service yesterday but he made it.
He honors the memory of his gunner who died on one of the missions but mostly there are memories he prefers not to discuss.
Here's to you big brother and sister and to every man and woman who lived that life.
