I Will Commemorate…

In the October of 1943, in a sleepy South African capital a young newlywed woman anticipates the birth of her first child. Her husband was somewhere on the front fighting a war that perhaps he did not truly understand, but he obeyed the orders and perhaps killed someone who, in another time, he may have called friend. One hundred kilometres away in a bustling coastal South African city another young newlywed woman awaits the birth of her first child. Her husband, injured during the battle of El Alemein in 1942, made it home in the February of 1943 for their wedding, only to leave to fight again.

But in the October of 1943 as these mothers awaited the birth of their first child, what was it that they were thinking? While German torpedo boats sink British destroyers off the North coast of Brittany, did they pray for those drowned sailors?  Were they aware that British Troops replaced striking London dockworkers, did it matter to them? Did they feel some emotion when they learnt that Italy had declared war on Germany? I wonder, how did these woman cope with the uncertainty? How does one birth a child in the shadow of a raging war of unimagined horror? How does one continue to love each day with the fear that their child will grow up without a father? Did she find some comfort in the letter she wrote to her unborn son? Did she find peace in the songs she sang with joy to her daughter?

Their children were born in late November of 1943 ten days apart, while one father missed the birth of his son, the other lost his stripes going AWOL to be present at the birth of his daughter. Both of these mother’s would spend the next two years raising their children alone, awaiting and praying for the safe return of their soldiers.

But in the November 1943, while British troops continue their slow advance through Italy, did they know where their soldiers where? Did they pity those innocents caught in Berlin as the bombing raids began? If they had known, would they have applauded the plans for Operation Overlord? Did they rock their children while they prayed for peace?  I wonder did they become so caught up in the chores of raising a child that they were able to forget the war, even for just a moment. Did they feel overwhelmed when the baby’s cries echoed in the early morning dark? Did she see her husband’s face in her peaceful sleeping son? Did she point at a picture and encourage her daughter to kiss her father goodnight?

These woman share the same anxiety, and the same uncertain future. These woman share a faith that all would happen according to God’s will, and prayed they would be reunited with their soldiers. Both had their families and knew that they shared their fears with many young mothers the world over. Yet, they must have felt so alone sometimes, so unsure, so scared. Were those moments of sheer joy dampened with fear? What was it that helped these young mothers face the future in such a grim reality?

I, by the grace of God, will never be faced with such insecurity, but I believe I know the answer. These children born in war, were raised, by women of immeasurable strength. They focused on the good, they used empathy, love and faith to guide their children. They relied on their sense of humour, their family and instinct to get them through each day. One mother, I imagine, was quiet and contemplative as she watch her son play and learn about the world. The other, laughed out loud at the antics of her daughter whose smile brighten her day. They held on to hope and trusted in the bravery of their soldiers that one day war would end.

Today, is ANZAC day, when those who have fallen in battle are commemorated and thanked for their bravery. My Grandfathers were not ANZACs but they were soldiers and the horrors of their war remained with them for the rest of their lives. A horror tempered only by the strength of those young newlywed woman who waited and prayed for the safe return of their soldiers. So today I will proudly remember my Grandfather’s bravery, but I will commemorate the strength of Jessica and Marie-Louise. Two young newlywed mothers who were beacons of hope in my Grandfather’s darkest days and the strong hand that gently guided my parents to adulthood.