🇨🇦 My Vimy Ridge Tetrad | Part 1 of 4, Grandpa | Mike Rilstone

The greatest battle ever fought by the Canadian Expeditionary Forces was Vimy Ridge on April 9 – 12, 1917.

For two years, Britain and France had tried to take that high ground controlled by the German army.

The Allied losses over that span were horrific. For example, France had lost 150,000 men in their unsuccessful attempts.

Canada was asked to try. And did we ever!

Just hours after the Canadian attack began, War Headquarters in London were in total disbelief. They received a message from the Canadian Command in France that they had taken the Ridge and asked what they should do next.

For me, the history of this incredible Canadian feat unfolded and developed over many years involving a tetrad of people: Lt. Colonel Henry Hamer, born in 1890, Pierre Berton, born in 1920, my son Michael, born in 1990 and myself, born in 1950.

Lt. Colonel Henry Hamer, or more fondly Grandpa, was my Mum’s father. He was at Vimy.

Grandpa passed away in 1966.

Decades after his passing, I had a very heartfelt chat with my Aunt Eileen, (Mum’s oldest sister and my Godmother), about Grandpa’s stoicism. She called it shell shock, or the emotional and mental reaction to the extreme stress of battle.

More commonly used today is the term post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD for short.

Generally, I only saw Grandpa once a year. He would stop in Montreal every spring to see his three daughters and their families as he travelled from his winter Florida snowbird abode back to his farm in Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley.

His annual visits were hectic family gatherings and I never had the chance to have a quiet moment with him. Besides, I was a kid and more interested in playing games with all my cousins.

But by 1965, the year before he passed, I finally had a quiet one-on-one with this Canadian Hero. Now 15, I wanted to ask him a huge question.

Grandpa had learned I was a high school gymnast and he suggested we go out to our garden for a demonstration.

I was ecstatic, not about showing him my tumbling moves, but finally getting a chance to hear his war stories. By then I had studied World War One at school and I wanted to hear about his participation and what he had seen. I would now get a chance to hear about it from a Lt. Colonel who was there!

It never happened.

After a few tumbling moves and hoots of joy from Grandpa, I sat in a lawn chair next to him and very openly and frankly said, “Grandpa, can you tell me about your experiences in both World Wars?” (Yes, he went back to Europe for World War Two too!)

His whole veneer shut down.

Being a naive 15-year-old and clueless about his post-wars mental health, I was witnessing a serious PTSD attack right before my eyes.

Just a few years later, especially through media stories and TV reports, Viet Nam’s war carnage established a vivid realism for our part of the world. For many in Canada, our biggest worries were rush hour traffic jams and what to cook for dinner.

Watching returning Viet Nam Veterans speak, I realized where I had probably sent Grandpa’s brain: bombs, grenades, friends blown apart … a living hell, or as explained to me by Auntie Eileen, the shell shock he had spent his life trying to put on a back burner.

As Grandpa stared at me in our garden, imagine his flashbacks. At that moment, those horrific memories must have been thrashing his brain.

Can most even imagine what depths of depression Grandpa had experienced from 1915, when he arrived in France, up to 1965 sitting there in our garden with me 50 years later?

That was half a century of horrific mental anguish. I’ve since wondered how many times over that half century did recurring dreams of those horrors awaken him in a cold sweat, leaving him unable to sleep?

For an uncomfortable length of time, as our eyes locked, Grandpa seemed to be looking for words for his grandson.

Finally he spoke.

“Michael, never go to war and please spend your life fighting those who want to.”

As I stared into his very troubled eyes, I simply replied, “I promise.”

With that, he stood, turned and walked back into our home.

I sat there repeating his words repeatedly in my head, a promise made to a Canadian Hero. That was the very day my anti-war philosophy began to formulate.

I had made a promise to Grandpa and I was going to keep it.

Soon, my fast-growing philosophy against all wars was being enhanced by the music industry’s vast array of very popular protest songs. Viet Nam horrors were having a giant impact on the music industry.

My favourite was the Rolling Stone’s “Gimme Shelter” in 1969. Its powerful verse, repeated continuously, hammers away at my memory of Grandpa that long day ago in our garden, “War, children, it’s just a shot away. It’s just a shot away.”
Here’s a great version of Gimme Shelter:

Perhaps the hardest hitting anti-war song that hit my Baby Boomers’ generation was Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction.” Listen to its hard-pounding lyrics here:

Another anti-war anthem that helped to cement my hate for war was Edwin Starr’s “War” released in 1969. Its unforgettable refrain, “War! Huh good God y’all. What is it good for? Absolutely nothin.” was as hard-hitting against military conflict as any other anti-war song ever produced.
Here’s Starr’s original release: https://youtu.be/01-2pNCZiNk?si=Rh06LJ_JdlxNk4Sg

A very timely one now in 2026 is “Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival in 1969. Its message is the working-class critique of how wealthy elites avoided the military draft. Do the words “Bone Spurs” come to mind?

Here’s CCR singing it on The Ed Sullivan Show on November 16, 1969:

There are so many more, but one especially reminded me of Grandpa’s mental torture for half a century. “What’s Going On” is a mournful soul track questioning violence, suffering, and returning soldiers’ realities by Marvin Gaye in 1971:

Look at Gaye’s second verse in that song:
Father, father
We don’t need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate
You know we’ve got to find a way
To bring some lovin’ here today

We are now fast-forwarded to 2026, 109 years after Grandpa was at the Battle of Vimy Ridge. Has humankind learned anything from past wars?

Absolutely not! Trump and the Republicans started a war against Iran under complete false pretences. Trump and the Republicans started it because they want Iran’s natural wealth.

In my heart, I wish Grandpa was still alive to speak truth to Congress, standing before them all in his Black Watch uniform, adorned with all his medals including Vimy Ridge, to shut down Trump, once and for all.

Perhaps his speech could prevent World War Three.

And so yes Grandpa, I’m always keeping my promise: maybe this writing will reach smarter minds than Trump and the Republican Party.