Author: Legion Magazine

“Hearing The Last Post and The Rouse for the first time, I learned about the true power and emotion that music could convey,” wrote Oluwadarasimi David Oketona of Kelowna Christian School in B.C. “The sounds of those pieces stayed with me and I gained new thoughts and perspectives about the purpose of music.”

Oketona’s essay, “The Sounds of Remembrance Day,” took second place in the senior essay category of The Legion National Foundation’s 2025 National Youth Remembrance Contests (read it below). The competition celebrates primary- (Kindergarten to Grade 3), junior- (Grades 4-6), intermediate- (Grades 7-9) and senior-level (Grades 10-12) students’ essays, poetry, artwork and videos, dedicated to the theme of remembrance.

National-level winners receive cash prizes, first-place senior level winners are eligible for a trip to Ottawa for the national Remembrance Day ceremony and the works of select winners are exhibited at the National War Museum in Ottawa. In all, 48 young artists were honoured nationally in 2025.

Here are all of this year’s top prize winners.

SENIOR CATEGORY

 

IN HONOUR OF HIS DUTY

First place essay: Brooklyn Stanford of Gull Lake School in Gull Lake, Sask.

Remembrance Day holds a special place in my heart, as it prompts deep reflection, gratitude, and honouring the sacrifices made. While it carries personal significance for me due to my father’s service in the army and deployment to Afghanistan, it serves as a poignant moment for countless Canadians to pay tribute to military personnel. My childhood was spent in the midst of military life, surrounded by individuals donning camouflage attire, as my father fulfilled his duties. At that time, the full extent of my dad’s responsibilities and the impact of his absence were beyond my comprehension.

I didn’t give the uniforms much thought as a child because they were a normal aspect of base life. But Inow understand that those uniforms were worn by those who were bearing the burden of sacrifice. This load was particularly heavy for my father. His life was moulded by the military, but it also left him with invisible scars. My dad was struggling with PTSD and had changed after returning from Afghanistan. The things that happened to him abroad haunted him every day.

For my father, a veteran, Remembrance Day holds a deep significance. It’s more than just a day of ceremonies and poppies; it’s a time for him to reflect on the comrades he lost, the battles he fought, and the lasting memories. For him, it’s a day to honour those who never returned and to recognize the ongoing personal struggles he faces.

Diverse viewpoints exist regarding the significance of Remembrance Day. Some people find it to be a moving reminder of Canada’s role in international conflicts. Others see it as a chance to show appreciation for the freedoms we value. For my family, it’s an opportunity to honour my father’s efforts, both during his time abroad and the ongoing emotional struggles he faces. It’s a day to honour the soldiers wearing camouflage uniforms, the brotherhood within the military post, and all those who have served without hesitation.

Today serves as a poignant reminder of the immense significance of acknowledging the sacrifices made by our soldiers, both on and off the battlefield. Many veterans grapple with the unseen scars of PTSD, and it is crucial that we appreciate the ongoing challenges they face. By donning a poppy and participating in Remembrance Day events, we demonstrate our support for individuals like my father, who courageously confront their own battles each day, while also paying tribute to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

We commemorate more than simply the past on Remembrance Day. It’s an opportunity to support our veterans both now and in the future. For my father and all veterans whose commitment has shaped their lives, this day serves as a reminder of the value of empathy, tolerance, and understanding.

This year, wearing my poppy will evoke memories of my father and the sacrifices he made for his nation. The sound of boots on the ground, the friends he lost, and the fleeting moments of my early years spent on the base will all be cherished memories. Above all, on this special day every year, I will honour the bravery it takes for him to reflect on those experiences.

 

First place video: Micah Griffin of Olds Koinonia Christian School in Olds, Alta.

 

A MOTHER’S HEART, A FATHER’S PRIDE.

First place poem: Preston Kane of Beaverlodge Regional High School in Wembley, Alta.

In fields now quiet, shadows sleep,
Where mothers’ tears still softly weep.
A son, her boy, once held so near,
Now lost beyond this world’s frontier.

She feels his laughter in the breeze,
A memory that will never ease.
Her arms ache still, though he is gone,
In dreams, she still sings his cradle song

A father stands with empty hands,
His pride now dust, in distant lands.
Once strong and tall, his son will say,
“Don’t worry, Papa – I’ll be okay!”

But battles steal what words cant mend,
And silence is a bitter friend.
The fathers strength, now hallowed out,
A heart weighed down with fear and doubt.

A sister’s voice calls through the years,
Her laughter stained by hidden tears.
She thinks of games they used to play,
In fields of green on summer days.

And somewhere, a child cries alone
A face she’ll never fully know
Small hands reach out for someone dear,
A ghost who cannot hold her near

Yet in soil, their memory grows
In every flower that bravely shows
They gave the world a gift unpriced
Their love, their lives, their sacrifice.

 

INTERMEDIATE CATEGORY

 

OVER THE TRENCH

First place essay: Scarlett Bai of Queen Charlotte Intermediate School in Charlottetown, P.E.I.

The air felt heavy, even heavier than the mud on my feet. The skies were dark, and we were all crouched up in the trench. I can feel the beat of my heart, the pulse in my temples. The silence between artillery blasts was almost deafening. Every pause made me wonder if the next shell would be the one to end this all. The Earth rumbles as strike by strike hits, but here in the trench, it’s the silence that closes in, wrapping all of us like an invisible shroud.

Beside me, Davies shifts slightly, his breath visible in the cold, damp air. He drummed his fingers absentminded against the barrel of his rifle. I glanced at him, having to catch him looking at me. “Hold still, lad, hold still,” he mutters, muffled but clear for me to hear. I nod, clenching my rifle as if it’s the only thing tethering me to this reality, to the fight. I’ve lost count of how many days we’ve been in this pit, shivering under the sky’s relentless grey, counting breath and trying to ignore the smell of gore and mud that seeps under our skins and into our bones.

In the distance, a faint shout echoes, and my pulse quickens. Someone down the line is calling for reinforcements, or perhaps warning us about an incoming shell. I grip my helmet tight, pressing it down as if it could somehow make me invisible. Around me, the others stand just as still, every face a mask of exhaustion and fear. We were young—even too young, most of us—but after all the time in this hell, youth feels like an out of reach memory.

Then comes the shrill, piercing sound of the whistle. My breath stopped for a moment. The time has come. It’s for us to go over the top.

My heart pounds harder and harder, drowning out the sounds of my surroundings as I hoist my body out of the trench and into the open field. The mud pulled on my boots, as each step I took the Earth sucked them down. I pushed myself forward, moving one foot at a time, each step a battle of its own.

Around me, men stumble, some fall, swallowed by the mud or lost to the haze of smoke that clings to the field like a dark, suffocating blanket. The greenish gas is beginning to drift across the field, curling and creeping low to the ground. The gas blinds us, turning everything into a nightmare of fog and shadows.

A sudden pain sears through my leg, and I drop to one knee, clutching the burning wound. My mind flashes to home—moments I’d tucked away for safekeeping. Green fields. Warm sun. My mother’s smile. I press my hand against the wound, teeth clenched, pushing through the pain.

In this chaos, survival is all that matters. I force myself up, staggering forward. Every step is an act of defiance, a promise that I’ll make it through this, somehow.

 

First place video: Olivia Craswell of Queen Charlotte Intermediate School in Charlottetown, P.E.I.

 

HENRY

First place poem: Nash Hove of Rich Valley Elementary School in Gunn, Alta.

1-0-7-5-6-4,
I am just a number and nothing more.

Why am I here? Why did I come?
I’m only a bullet in His Majesty’s gun.

Make no mistake I am the patriot kind,
But I’ve abandoned all hope fighting the Gothic Line.

The mud, the mortars, the mayhem of Mussolini’s lair,
How can any man overcome this sadness and despair?

“Frieda, you wouldn’t understand all this death and misery,”
The homestead in Onoway is where I want to be.

“And Frieda, why don’t you write to me more?”
Letters are the only thing keeping me alive in this war.

“Sell all my tools, you will need the cash,”
The Battle of Coriano Ridge will be my last.

Why am I here? Why did I come?
Fighting a war that fools have begun?

Surrounded by everyone, yet alone I go,
Regret and self-pity are the only things I know.

I am bitter and salty like the Adriatic Sea,
Where my stone will face East to a fading legacy.

Who is Henry? I am a broken man,
1-0-7-5-6-4 is all that I am.

From the letters of Private Henry Zeiler #107564 to sister Frieda Hove; New Westminster Regiment, Mortar “C” Division; Gradara, Italy; Sept. 13, 1944

 

JUNIOR CATEGORY

 

YEARLONG REMEMBRANCE

First place essay: Georgia Morson, home schooled in Saskatoon

I recently visited a military museum. As I toured it, running my eyes over the many fascinating and curious historical objects, I noticed something I had never realized before: “remembrance” does not just mean going to a Remembrance Day service on November 11, though obviously that is a good thing to do. Real remembrance is yearlong, not just in November—the sacrifice our soldiers and their families made for us is far too big for that.

It would be unheard of for a family who had lost a loved one in war to only remember them in November or even just on Remembrance Day. Despite the sorrow in remembering a dear family member who has been lost, it is essential to do so anyway. Even though they are not present in body, in remembering them they have a special place in their families’ hearts.

A treasured tradition, in place since the Vietnam War, is the setting of a separate table (at a large event or holiday, such as a wedding or Christmas celebration) in honour of a missing comrade. The Table of a Fallen Soldier uses many symbols to aid us in remembering our sisters and brothers in arms. For example, some of the most significant symbols are: the white tablecloth representing the purity of their motives in answering the call of duty. The slices of lemon on the bread plate mean the bitter loss of the fallen soldier. In addition, the inverted wine glass represents that the dead comrade will not be able to participate in the joyful toasts at the gathering.

The soldiers who have fallen in war are gone from us in earth, but that is no occasion to forget them. It would be no less than tragic to completely forget someone who had been previously loved, and ignore them as if they had not given their lives for us.

 

IN THE HEART OF CANADA

First place poem: Maximus Snider of Hickson Central Public School in Woodstock, Ont.

Beneath the vast and endless sky,
Where mountains rise and rivers sigh,
We gather on this solemn ground,
To honor heroes, lost but found.

From shores of gray to northern lights,
In fields of poppies, our spirit ignites.
They answered duty’s fervent call,
With bravery that inspired us all.

In trenches deep, through mud and fear,
They forged a bond that drew us near.
With every step on foreign lands,
They held our hopes in steadfast hands.

Their laughter echoes in the pines,
In whispered winds, their courage shines.
From Vimy Ridge to Juno’s shore,
Their legacy, we can’t ignore.

So let us bow our heads in grace,
For every soldier, every place.
In the heart of Canada, strong and free,
We remember them—eternally.

With gratitude, we mark this day,
As we live the lives they paved the way.
For in our hearts, they’ll always stay,
Our brave, our proud, this Remembrance Day.

The end 😊!!!

 

PRIMARY CATEGORY

 

Check out all the winners of this year’s contest here.