This past week I’ve had the honour of taking part in a para rescue reunion celebrating 80 years of para rescue in Canada. SAR Techs retired and still serving, elderly and young came from across Canada to join in a four-day event.
Since Mike died in 2007, I’ve maintained contact with many of our SAR friends and attended a few other reunions, but last night, as I stood surrounded by fellow spouses and those who served and still serve, I was reminded that these friendships and gatherings are not just about comradery and having fun.
Man by man, name by name we honoured every one of the fallen – men who died in service – that others may live. Too many names were read. Too many brave men remembered. As a piper played the Piper’s Lament, eyes watered in a room filled by people who felt grief as if each one of those lost men were our own family members. In a way they are – para rescue is a tightknit family.
Throughout the past four days stories were told, some of high jinks, others of bravery, each story highlighting strength of character and depth of commitment. We celebrated, laughed, wept, remembered happy times and hard moments. We shared our common bond. Now the 80th reunion over, we are already talking about where and when the next will be.
The next time you see or hear that big orange chopper fly over, or see a person in an orange flight suit, the next time you hear about one of Canada’s rescue squadrons responding to a disaster or accident, please take a moment to be grateful that there are extraordinary people who live by this creed:
Without regard for my personal comfort or self-advancement, to the best of my ability and to the limits of my physical and psychological endurance, I solemnly pledge to make every effort to return safely those victims of disaster entrusted to my care by the assignment of the mission to which I have consented. These things I shall do: That Others may live.
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