Afghan boys assess the new kids in town as troops from 3rd Battalion, The Royal Canadian Regiment, launch their first patrol in Kabul alongside the Germans they are replacing in August 2003.
[Stephen J. Thorne]

One thing has become clear to me researching and writing about Canadian military history over the years: except in times of crisis, national defence in Canada has always taken a back seat to just about everything else, at least in the eyes of government.

It’s not a recent phenomenon. Pierre Trudeau wasn’t the first prime minister to oversee the gutting of the armed forces, and his son, Justin, won’t be the last. It’s not a partisan issue, either. Conservatives are as guilty as Liberals of giving the military, and veterans, short shrift—and they are just as likely to rise to the occasion when urgent need arises.

When it does, Canada’s soldiers, sailors and air force personnel have always answered the call in superlative ways, perhaps to the forces’ ultimate detriment.

It was the Canadian Corps that earned Canada a seat at the table when it came time to negotiate a peace agreement after the First World War. Canada had taken its rightful place in the world thanks to its military’s superb performance in the war’s final 18 months, especially.

It was the Canadian Corps that earned Canada a seat at the table when it came time to negotiate a peace agreement after the First World War.

The country had no army to speak of when the war to end all wars broke out in 1914; its permanent force numbered just about 3,000 personnel. National defence was in such poor shape that the British Columbia government bought its own submarines. Yes, submarines.

By the time the war ended, however, more than 650,000 of Canada’s eight million citizens had served.

That, in itself, is a credit to Canadians and the mobilization and training that enabled them. But, once the war was over, the military languished again, and veterans had to fight for years for adequate pensions and support—a fight that helped create The Royal Canadian Legion. Those battles have never stopped.

The numbers were proportionately similar entering the Second World War. The navy, for example, had just six ocean-going ships and 3,500 personnel in 1939. By the war’s end six years later, Canada had the world’s third-largest sea-going fighting force, with 434 commissioned vessels and 95,000 men and women in uniform.

The Royal Canadian Air Force had gone from a mish-mash of dated airplanes, skeletal ranks and bafflingly diverse civil responsibilities to the fourth-largest air force in the world at its peak in 1944.

Members of the 3rd Battalion, Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry Battle Group are on operations in Tora Bora along the Afghan-Pakistan border in May 2002.
[Stephen J. Thorne]

Yet it all was no longer a priority. By 1947, with the Cold War emerging and Canada finding itself at the northern front line of continental defence, military planners and government mucky-mucks were at a loss for what to do. Defence was underfunded and, lacking any substantial government direction or commitment, military brass were grasping at straws.

As with its NATO responsibilities today, Canada was not meeting its international commitments, let alone its national defence and security obligations.

By the time it was compelled to send troops to Korea in 1950, it had to augment the existing force by creating what was essentially a supplemental army largely of volunteers and Second World War veterans.

Then came peacekeeping—an ideal niche in which the country’s war-averse leadership could claim Canada was doing its part without the distasteful realities of combat. No government paid the military ranks a greater disservice.

For four decades-plus, Canadian soldiers, mainly, were thrust into the uncomfortable position between two or more armies, handed rules of engagement that tied one hand behind their backs, and told to keep the combatants at bay.

As with its NATO responsibilities today, Canada was not meeting its international commitments, let alone its national defence and security obligations.

Often ill-equipped and under-supported, Canadian troops found themselves in firefights not of their own making, in which they had no vested interest but their own safety, under constant threat with limited tools to meet it, and lacking the authority to prevent mass rape, torture and genocide in places such as the Balkans and Rwanda.

They came home with mysterious illnesses and mental anguish to an indifferent public who, until two Canadian paratroopers killed an innocent kid in Somalia, were convinced that this was Canada’s finest hour, that Canadian soldiers in blue berets were Boy Scouts carving out the country’s new place in the world.

The war in Afghanistan changed the public’s view, for a while. Canadians rallied behind their soldiers in the war on terror in ways not seen in 60 years, but the enthusiasm began to wear off once the bodies began coming back in numbers.

By the time Canada withdrew its troops after almost 13 years of a bloody war, the public had all but forgotten about the fallout and the future.

Lieutenant Tim Partello of the 3rd Battalion, The Royal Canadian Regiment Battle Group watches over Afghan National Army recruits in training in Kabul in 2003.
[Stephen J. Thorne]

You see, for the vast majority of everyday Canadians, it’s out of sight, out of mind when it comes to the military.

Sure, Canadians fight a heckuva war, but they don’t generally see themselves as a fighting nation. So, after the fighting is over, it’s back to the same old, same old: Why do we need ships and planes and armoured vehicles? How much military spending is enough? Why do our veterans complain so much?

To the average peace-loving Canadian, rightfully comfortable in their social safety net, homeland defence and national sovereignty are foreign concepts. No war has been fought on Canadian soil since the Battle of Loon Lake in 1885. The fact that Russian submarines and other vessels traverse the Northwest Passage—Canadian territory—at will is of little to no concern, if they’re aware of it at all.

Thus, it’s easy for elected officials to ignore national defence, and to slap the military with budget cuts when the going gets tough.

The nation’s most vulnerable regions are also its most desolate. Northern Canada constitutes about 40 per cent of the country’s landmass, but just 0.375 per cent of its population. The country encompasses three oceans and 243,042 kilometres of coastline. The threats and the indignities are not evident to most Canadians.

Thus, it’s easy for elected officials to ignore national defence, and to slap the military with budget cuts when the going gets tough. Besides, the prevailing attitudes go, the Americans have our backs. But do they?

As fighting in Afghanistan raged, Canadians began returning to the National War Memorial in impressive numbers to pay tribute to those who made the ultimate sacrifice during the country’s history. It was a heartening sight, but they need to do more.

Armoured troops of the 3R22R Battle Group are on patrol northeast of Kabul in 2004.
[Stephen J. Thorne]

There’s that well-worn phrase, freedom is not free. It doesn’t just allude to the human cost of war, but also to the ongoing cost of national defence, security and, in Canada, a blessed sovereignty.

As the country enters the annual remembrance period, Canadians would do well to remember the military and its ranks as they are now—under-funded, under-populated and facing nearly $1 billion in cuts despite recently renewed promises to boost defence spending to meet NATO minimums.

It’s the least they can do—for the dead and the living.