War is a part of our lives whether it is something we learned in history class, have lived through ourselves or have lived with it because our father lived during a war and took an active part in it as a soldier.
For me it was and is a very important part of my life. My daddy grew up during the Netherlands occupation by Germany and in 1944 became a resistence member during WWII with the Dutch Underground, then a recognized soldier with the 9th Army US Provost Marshall after his area was liberated from occupation and then in 1945 when his government asked for volunteers to go tothe Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia) he became a Stoottroeper. Eventhough WWII was officially over then his trip to Indonesia was a result of that war so there is a relation. Although the war was long over when I was born in Canada, where my daddy emigrated in 1948 after Indonesia, the war played a major role in my life as what he experienced during his life in Holland molded the man he was and the way in which he raised me.
War is not about special battles or certain dates, it is about people - the people who lived with it every day whether in an occupied country, or as a soldier in the midst of battle - for it changed that person forever because of what they saw and were forced to do to simply survive. Those survivors live through the war every single day of their lives whether it is in a way hidden to the outside world - such as in their dreams at night, an event that triggers a memory, photographs from that time, watching a movie on television - or blatanly obvious in physical wounds and scars. War scars a person forever.
To truly learn about war and history we need not to memorize dates and battles but to learn about the people who lived through it for it is only then can we see and understand war for what it truly is --- a horrible life changing experience.
So please, please take a moment and REMEMBER, SAY AND PRAYER AND A THANK-YOU for all those past and present who offer and continue to offer their very lives to protect us and those yet unborn so that we may enjoy our lives to the fullest, without fear, without the terrors that war brings.
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dressed in a uniform one size to small five decades old smelling of mothballs the last of his regiment but each crease is sharp every button gleaming the collar perfectly starched on his chest are ribbons and medals his bearing is erect pride and dignity shine in his eyes and in his gnarled hands sits a box in the box are plastic poppies on a pin the old man waits for people to notice he is sure they will stop take a poppy and contribute a quarter or two after all Remembrance Day is coming they will remember they will take a poppy to wear to show their pride and gratitude He stands patiently watching as the people walk by the older people stop smilke, take a poppy, put a dollar in the can for they remember as he does a few others stop, take a poppy, drop in some change smile and tell him about their dad or uncle or grandpa but they are few a few snicker laughing at the old man commenting on how ridiculous he looks in his old, too small uniform standing out in the cold others look at him with pity for the poor old man living in the past but he continues to stand there his bearing a little less erect a moistness gleaming in his eyes but then he straightens for he is a soldier he answered when his country called he served his nation with everything he had he offered his life for others they will remember he knows it some young ones approach but to him they're all young it's hard to tell their age they stop next to him they understand he thinks realize what he did want to honour those died in the war to say thank you to the few who remain they know that their freedom was won by him and others like him he smiles with pride then it happens the one speaks "It was so long ago" "ancient history" "forget about it" "go home Old Man" "No one cares anymore" the old man's face crumbles tears shine in his eyes his bearing is no longer erect the pain radiates around him far worse pain than anything caused during the war he is now nothing but an old man dressed in a uniform one size to small five decades old smelling of mothballs with a box of plastic poppies on pins
written by Maria Sutherland Oct. 1998 I wrote this in the hope that when next Veteran's/Memorial Day and Remembrance Day comes around and Poppies are sitting on counters, or as here in Canada a Veteran with a box of poppies stands out in the cold you don't just walk past, that you stop, take a moment and get a Poppy and wear it for everyone to see. It's such a simple thing that means so much.
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 Josef M. van Duinhoven 1920-1956 My Daddy
A SOLDIER'S PRAYER
Written by Maria Sutherland
To learn more about my daddy and give you a glimpse of what it was like to be a soldier during WWII please visit
Lest We Forget - A Tribute to My Daddy and All Veterans
A little bit about the man I love and miss so much.
There are also many other rooms in my house which you are more than welcome to pull up a chair and enjoy so go ahead just click on the arrow in the QuickNav bar and find the room that appeals to you most.
 or you can email me at msbeliever@visto.com
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