Page 6—The Haldimand Press, November 6, 1980
"The Road To War"
By Rev. P. W. Taylor
Padre, Branch 164 Royal Canadian Legion
On July 1, 1916, the day the Somme offensive began during the First World War, 19,241 British soldiers were killed in action and 35,493 were wounded. It is hard to make numbers come alive but Alan Seeger, the American poet, was killed at the age of 28 in that battle. With all of a young man's idealism he had written: "But I've a rendezvous with
Death At  midnight  in some flaming
town, When Spring trips north again
this year,
And I to my pledge word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous." That very same year Alan Seeger met his "rendezvous with Death." A man named Andrew Mynarski was born in Winnipeg. Exactly 28 years later, on June 12, 1944, Andrew Mynarski won the Victoria Cross in a Lancaster Bomber over Cambrai in France. The "London Gazette" described the incident:
"Pilot Officer Mynarski was the mid-upper gunner of a Lancaster aircraft detailed to attack a target at Cambrai in France, on the night of June 12, 1944. The aircraft was attacked
from below and astern by an enemy fighter. Fire broke out and the captain ordered the crew to abandon the aircraft. Mynarski left his turret and went toward the escape hatch. He saw that the rear gunner was still in his turret and apparently unable to leave it.
"Without hesitation, Mynarski made his way through the flames in an endeavour to reach the rear turret and release the gunner. While so doing, his parachute and his clothing were set on fire. All his efforts to move the turret and free the gunner were in vain. Eventually the rear gunner indicated to him that there was nothing more he could do and that he should try to save his own life. Pilot Officer Mynarski reluctantly went back through the flames to the escape hatch. There, as a last gesture to the trapped gunner, he turned toward him, stood to attention in his flaming clothes and saluted before he jumped out of the aircraft...he was so seriously burned that he died from his injuries." In a savage irony, the rear gunner survived the crash that followed.
A few weeks ago, the Office of Technology Assessment in the United States, released,a report, "The Effects of Nuclear War," based on various government studies. It estimates conservatively that in a nuclear attack aimed at the major cities of the U.S. and Canada about 15 million people would be killed instantly. This does not include millions of lingering deaths from radiation fallout and other related causes. Again, it is hard to make numbers come alive, but let's use Hamilton as an example.
If an average-size one-megaton nuclear missile lands in the center of Hamilton, first there will be a powerful blast that will knock down all buildings for eight miles  virtually the entire city below the escarpment. Then there will be firestorms. The heat will be so hot that asphalt on the roads will burst into flames all the way to Caledonia. And finally, radiation will be fatal for most people 100 miles downwind of the blast. That could include the entire county of Haldimand.
The First World War was fought with the blood of my grandfather's generation; the Second with the blood of my father's generation. It all seems so long ago. But neither of the wars was long ago. They live clear and remorseless in the minds of many still among us.
As we gather to honour their memory in ceremonies all across this land with songs, the presenting of Colours, with wreaths and the Last Post, let us pray that mankind has learned its lesson. There can never be any heroes in a nuclear war and certainly no veterans  only pitiful survivors. And as we wear our poppies and give just respect to all those who fell on distant battlefields, in the air, and on the sea, let this be our most sincere prayer: "May we never again, please God, turn down the road to war!"