Remembrance Day is when many First Nation communities honour the veterans who fought in historic wars and those who still serve in the military.
In many ways, remembrance for Indigenous people is difficult for us to think about. On one hand, we do honour our veterans for their sacrifice. On the other hand, it is a reminder of how Indigenous soldiers were treated when they returned home from past wars.
My grandfather, James Kataquapit, and my mother’s grandfather, John Chookomolin, were two of 24 people from Attawapiskat who left the North in 1917 to take part in the First World War.
The summer of 1917 deeply affected many families from Attawapiskat for generations. James returned home safely and so did most of the other young men. At a time when no one knew much about the wider world, these men came back with fantastic stories of what they saw and experienced.
They had paddled down from James Bay to the Albany River and south to the newly constructed national rail line at a place called Pagwa, west of Hearst, Ontario. There they saw their first train, running on iron rails that stretched for miles. As they moved south, they could not believe all the towns, roads, rails, buildings, vehicles and people they saw.
They enlisted and joined the Canadian Forestry Corps in July 1917. Two months later, they were sent to Halifax where they boarded the SS Megantic for a 10-day voyage to Liverpool, England.
Our grandfather often recounted how he and his companions thought they would never see home again as they crossed the great ocean.
Our great-grandfather Chookomolin contracted influenza during the crossing and died five days after he arrived in England. He left behind his young wife Maggie and their infant daughter, our grandmother Louise Paulmartin-Rose. It is no small miracle that our grandmother survived without her father.
His grave is just outside London, in the small village of Englefield Green. I’ve had the opportunity to visit his final resting place as have several of his great-grandchildren.
Our grandfather Kataquapit returned home after two years and was unceremoniously dropped off at the train station in Pagwa and told to make his way home. The other men in their group were separated and arrived one by one back to their families. At least four men like my great-grandfather Chookomolin were never heard from again.
When my grandfather returned, he was surprised to learn that the help he had been promised was denied to Indigenous veterans. Settlement benefits, land, farming assistance and training were provided to others but denied to Indigenous vets. After his return, he lived in the same poverty as when he left the community to enlist.
Over the years, my partner Mike McGrath and I researched how his family was involved in the Second World War. His father, James McGrath, served in the storied Black Watch regiment, which arrived in France days after the D-Day landings in June 1944.
He fought with the First Canadian Army throughout France and Belgium alongside his younger brother Patrick and both took part in the Battle of the Scheldt. During the height of this famous battle in October 1944, 20-year-old James was severely wounded and his 18-year-old brother Patrick was killed.
In an unbelievable coincidence, when James and Patrick first landed in France, they were near an Indigenous veteran, John Bradley, a member of the Six Nations Mohawks in southern Ontario. He was a Sergeant in the 26th Battery, 4th Field Regiment as part of the Canadian Army. Bradley’s son, John Jr., later married Mike’s sister, Patty. In a sad memory of their family, Patty (Patricia) was named after their fallen uncle.
After researching these war histories over the years, it amazes me how these tragedies have haunted our families for generations. These events have changed, guided and traumatized our families in so many ways.
I will honour the memory of our veterans by questioning war and encouraging our governments to work towards peaceful ends. Lest we forget our war veterans and fallen soldiers. But let us not forget the causes of every war so that we do not repeat the tragedies of the past.