Keith Brind of Gibsons might never have witnessed the unveiling of a memorial dedicated to airmen like his father, had the controversies surrounding Allied bombing campaigns in the Second World War continued to stall efforts.
But on June 28, when Queen Elizabeth unveiled a memorial to honour those killed serving in the Royal Air Force's Bomber Command, Keith and his dad, 89-year-old veteran navigator Ken Brind, were there to see it.
and I'll remember it for the rest of my life, Keith said.
It had been more than 67 years since his father's last mission over the exploding skies of occupied Europe.
The controversy surrounding Bomber Command's war-time missions had often centred on one difficult to digest number: 560,000 German dead at the hands of Allied bombers, most of them women and children, according to military historian Desmond Morton.
While air force veterans like Ken waited, debate raged as scholars attempted to reconcile the scores of civilian dead with the heavy commitment in strategic resources needed for bombing missions.
But that commitment was more than just cold resources like metal and fuel. More than 55,000 men who volunteered for Bomber Command were killed and all had volunteered.
I was young and silly, Ken said on the phone from his home in Sidney, B.C. There was a certain glamour about flying at that time. Anybody who was able to, who was fit enough, by and large they wanted to try.
A look back
On July 13, 1944, Ken Brind, 21, had again escaped with his life.
One day prior, his ninth mission had been a relative success. Reconnaissance confirmed the target, a railway bridge, had been completely destroyed. The 18 planes from the RAF's Squadron 626 that took to the skies that night emerged virtually unscathed.
Like the other volunteers numbering seven to a plane, Ken was expected to complete 30 missions on his way to a full tour. Statistics now say he had a 55 per cent chance of surviving.
It's history now. That's the important thing, he said.
His tour would last until October, but the remaining missions rarely went as well as the ninth.
Soon after, during the night of July 20, his squadron attacked a railway marshalling yard about 80 kilometres west of Brussels.
As the planes approached their target, the pilots made note of a streak of light burning its way through the cloak of midnight. Rising at ferocious speed, it disappeared above them: a V2 rocket, London bound.
Red and green flares lit up the target below, and Ken's bomb man, Peter Graves, released almost six tonnes of payload. He noted that flak was thin, but the burning flares had bathed their planes in their unnatural glow. Like silhouettes against the sky, the bombers became easy targets for German fighters in pursuit.
Two of the 18 bombers from 626 were shot down that night, a loss rate of 11 per cent on a mission just over three hours long.
I had a superstition. Keith's mother gave me a little rag doll, like a gremlin, and I hung it over the top of my navigation table [behind the pilot], Ken recalled, adding that his mates would leave letters to loved ones in their lockers at home, should the worst happen. But not him he had his gremlin.
I hung it over the top of the navigation table on each and every flight that I went on. Never missed it, he said. I lost it after the war, though.
Remembering
Ken experienced countless brushes with death, including the loss of his six crew mates Geoff and the boys, who were shot down over Berlin two days before Christmas while their navigator lay in recovery from sinus surgery. He was supposed to begin his tour with them.
He would instead go on to have five children with Mary, the love who gave him the gremlin.
Keith became an elementary school teacher. I used to organize Remembrance Day ceremonies, both at Gibsons Elementary and at West Sechelt, he said.
As part of the ceremonies, Keith recruited veterans, including his dad one year, to share their experiences with the children.
After visiting England with his father for the unveiling, the former educator reflected on the way Canadians have paid homage to their vets.
There's a slightly different feeling over there, Keith said. These people who came to shake Dad's hand, they remember. Some of them will remember what it was like being bombed.
Close to 10,000 Canadians lost their lives serving in Bomber Command, more casualties than the Canadian Army sustained marching from Normandy to Hochwald Forest on the eve of German surrender.
A privately funded memorial in Nanton, Alberta was constructed in 2005 and given a dedication by then Minister of Defence Bill Graham.
