In the book Dear America, Letters Home From Vietnam, Marion Lee Kempner wrote to his great aunt of a patrol he and his men had been on during endless days of rain. They had struggled over hills covered with impenetrable jungle, when one of them spotted a distinguished looking plant with soft red flowers, and  commented that it was the first thing he had seen all day that didn't have thorns on it. Kempner wrote that it reminded him of Vietnam, "a country of thorns and cuts, of guns and marauding, of little hope and of great failure. Yet in the midst of it all, a beautiful thought, gesture, or even person can arise among it waving bravely at the death that pours down upon it".

Early November of last year was very mild, and one day while out in the yard I noticed a small violet-coloured flower in bloom, a fragile little plant that looked completely out of place surrounded by the dead grass of late autumn. I immediately thought of the passage from the book I had read so many years ago and marvelled how a person in the midst of war and destruction could hold onto his humanity and take the time to write such a beautiful letter home to his aunt. At the end of the letter he wrote "The flower will always live in the memory of a tired, wet Marine, and has thus achieved a sort of immortality". Less than three weeks later he was killed in a mine explosion, dead at the age of 24 years.

As 1999 drew to a close it became important to me to mark the occasion with a special painting. Over the weeks leading up to Christmas I often thought of the flower I'd seen in November and how it reminded me of the soldier who laid down his rifle for a short time and picked up his pen to preserve the memory of something special that he had seen, and to try to make some sense out of the situation he had been thrust into. I also wanted to pay tribute to a special breed of dog known as the Belgian Shepherd, and these were the thoughts
running through my head when I began my painting on Christmas Eve.

I thought I would be able to finish the painting quickly, but it took almost two months to finish "Winter of the War Dog". While working on this project  I studied the role of the canine in serving man during wartime, and found the topic so interesting that I could not stop with just one painting. I decided to work on the subject throughout the year 2000 and two more paintings followed. "The Enemy Spotted" features a scout dog who has alerted  to its handler that the presence of the enemy is nearby, and "Returning Home" is a tribute to the nearly 4000 dogs who were sent to Vietnam that never got to return home.

I began researching World War One and was fascinated to study the role that Canadians played in the trench warfare that dragged out for four years in France and Belgium, particularly Flanders where my breed of dog had originated. My Grandfather, Albert Briggs, served with the New Brunswick battalion known as "The Fighting 26th" and he was overseas from 1915 to 1919. 

From The Story of the Fighting 26th (R.W. Gould and S.K Smith):

"No finer tribute to the fallen men can be paid than by quoting the letter written by Lieut. Harry W. Furguson, who himself, before the first winter had passed had answered the last trumpet call of which he speaks to the parents of Almond Savidant, of Campbellton, which follows:

Excerpt: 

"Almond now lies peacefully sleeping his last sleep within sound of the guns about a thousand yards or so behind the front line trenches, within a well kept plot of earth allotted to the 26th battalion.  I wandered that way this afternoon to look over the last resting place of the many gallant lads I knew and with pangs of regret noticed how rapidly our allottment was filling up. The graves are laid out in even rows, each man buried singly. The graves are all neatly sodded with fresh green sods and at the head of each a uniform cross is  standing about three feet high, upon which is nailed an aluminum metal plate with the name, number and  battalion of the one who has made the last great sacrifice and now lies buried beneath.

"This portion of Belgium is consecrated soil, for about Almond and his comrades in the last long sleep are those of a number of other Canadian battalions, so that when the last gun is fired and peace reigns over this  stricken country, this ground will doubtless be taken over by the allied governments and maintained as such a hallowed spot should be in memory of the cause for which they fought and died."

End excerpt.

Just as the writer foresaw, the Commonwealth War Graves Commission is now in charge of many cemetaries throughout Europe, and each Canadian grave has a stone marker bearing the emblem of the Maple Leaf. My fourth painting in the series is entitled "Sanctuary Wood".   I wanted to pay tribute to the Canadians who gave the ultimate sacrifice in WWI, and I also wanted to pay tribute to the farmers of Belgium who protected the breed of dog known as the Belgium Shepherd throughout the war.

In this painting I used black and white to represent the past.  In the background is the shell-scarred area of Sanctuary Wood in 1918. In the foreground stands a Canadian soldier in uniform, wearing the cap badge of the New Brunswick 26th battalion. He is saying his goodbye at the grave site of a fellow soldier of the 26th  before he leaves for his journey back to Canada. Standing with him is a Belgian family dressed in Flemish clothing and closeby are two varieties of the breed, the Tervuren and Groenendael, named after villages in Belgium where the breed was developed. 

Behind this group is the cemetary as it appears now, painted in colour to represent the present day.  The  graves are marked with the standard Commonwealth War Graves Commission headstones, and a young lady and the other two varieties of the breed stand pensively. Connecting the figures from the past and present is a
simple heart-shaped locket that both women wear, suggesting this is a grandaughter of the couple on the left.

Presently I am working on a Remembrance Day collage and beginning to study World War Two.  I'm learning how important it is to do these things, to never take for granted what our fellow Canadians have been through, and the events that shaped the nation we live in today.  After working on this art series for a year, the simple words Lest We Forget have a much deeper meaning to me now.

Susan Moar
Published December 2000