Historian Tim Cook was a frequent contributor to Legion Magazine. He died on Oct. 25, 2025.
[Marie Louise Deruaz]
The traditional Cornish fishing village of Mevagissey, situated on the west coast of England, seemed like as good a place as any to discover the works of Canada’s “preeminent military historian” Tim Cook. It was a pleasant enough day, just after Christmas, while outside, parting clouds and a tame ocean breeze presented prime conditions for exploration—to amble along cobbled streets, to frequent ye olde pubs, perhaps even to trek through the hills bound for oh-so-near Pentewan.
The urge, however, was absent. Quayside saunters and savoured pints could wait. Far more tantalizing was Cook’s newly unwrapped tome, The Necessary War, Volume 1: Canadians Fighting The Second World War: 1939-1943, a gift from a bemused father-in-law wondering why a Brit would desire such a seemingly obscure read.
That a two-birds-one-stone approach might have been taken by dropping into The Fountain Inn for both brew and book did not register. The curious excitement for immersing myself in a relatively unknown tale, of indulging my Canadaphilic tendencies with an overarching love for military history, had become irresistible.
The Necessary War proved to be a necessary venture. I devoured it.
It would be the first of many such titles within Cook’s illustrious oeuvre, the awakening of a passion that had evidently lay dormant for too long. With each new book added to my already groaning shelves—At the Sharp End, Shock Troops, Vimy, Fight to the Finish— I soon realized that I wanted to follow his example.
I soon realized, too, that he was far more than a name on a dust jacket.
It was borderline beggar belief—at least in my mind—when the chief historian and director of research for the esteemed Canadian War Museum agreed to speak with a small-time, small-town British freelance writer about the Dieppe Raid for a U.K. history magazine.
It was part of his job, of course, to be interviewed by journalists and other authors, to highlight Canada’s wartime story as he did so eloquently in every single book. Simply, however, I never dreamt that I might be one of them.
Cook spoke as he wrote. These were not blocks to be plotted and prodded on a map in Churchill’s war rooms; these were men. Quebecers and Saskatchewanians cut down on bloodied Dieppe shingles, 916 of whom were destined never to come home. The blow-by-blow battle was there, as was unmistakably imperative, but in Cook’s retelling of the human cost of Operation Jubilee, the story came to life.
As The Necessary War was the first of many titles I read of his, so my Dieppe Raid feature was the first of many such interactions I had with the renowned researcher, who held a doctorate in history. Whether requesting 50-word quotes for freelance articles or full-blown interviews for Legion Magazine, Cook donated his time, blending professionalism with compassion and genuine interest in one’s career trajectory and broader well-being. In doing so, he made me feel like Walter Cronkite.
If only I had told him as much.
The blow-by-blow battle was there, as was unmistakably imperative, but in Cook’s retelling of the human cost of Operation Jubilee, the story came to life.
Perhaps Cook knew, or one can only hope he knew, the enormous impact he had on the Canadian military history world—and, by extension, those who shared his boundless passion—prior to his passing on Oct. 25, 2025, at age 54.
“He was instrumental in shaping the Canadian War Museum we know today,” said its President and CEO Caroline Dromaguet in a statement announcing his loss, remarking that he was a “passionate ambassador” for the institute—and for most ardent admirers.
Of the latter, he unquestionably had masses.
“I first met Tim Cook in 2006,” wrote Alex Souchen, an associate professor for the University of Guelph’s department of history and a former Canadian War Museum volunteer. “I was a wide-eyed undergrad who wanted to be a military historian ‘just like him.’”
“I remember him smiling at the compliment,” Souchen added of his earliest chat with the researcher, “but still taking the time to talk to me about career prospects.”
Equally, it seems, Cook’s personability extended to fellow scholars. “He was one of the country’s very best historians,” observed colleague and aviation specialist Mike Bechthold, “and an even better person.”
Alex Fitzgerald-Black, Juno Beach Centre’s executive director, echoed the sentiment by asserting that “he leaves behind a legacy of work that has done veterans proud.
“His passing is a huge loss for Canada.”
“He was one of the country’s very best historians, and an even better person.”
The now, sadly, former chief historian of the Canadian War Museum maintained a distinguished career within the institution for some 23 years; contributed hundreds of articles to myriad publications, including Legion Magazine; delivered an untold number of presentations, public addresses and, of course, interviews; won numerous accolades, not least the Ottawa Book Award for literary non-fiction and the J.W. Dafoe Book Prize; was recognized with the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal; and was named to the Order of Canada for his services to Canadian military historiography, both as a scholar and the bestselling author of 19 books.
Nevertheless, it was beyond his objective achievements that I found my greatest admiration for Cook. He was ever-kind and always patient—even with a starstruck and tongue-tied British writer. He provided insights that inspired in unexpected ways, often by seamlessly weaving big picture with small. And he earned the respect of his peers in everything he did.
The reality, however, is that I can’t pretend to have truly known Cook. Such a right is reserved for others, from his loving family, including a wife and three daughters, to a multitude of friends and colleagues. But nor was he merely another famous writer on my groaning shelves.
Cook’s influence on my own life was, is, and will continue to be significant. And I’m confident that his same influence extends to numerous admirers, both those who came before and, mark these words, those who will come long after.
The next time I’m in Mevagissey, a Cornish pint will be raised for Tim Cook.
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