Second World War veteran shares his memories

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For many veterans, Remembrance Day is the saddest day of the year, and yet one they revel in.

It's a time to mourn lost friends and yet remember back to the good times of their youth.

But for some veterans-those who came from Saskatchewan's Indian reserves-the day inspires more than its share of mixed feelings. Not only do they remember a time when they were young, but it was also a time when they lived a life of equality, as long as they were in the armed forces.

That's why, when Ernest Crowe is asked whether the sacrifices made by veterans during the war were worthwhile, he hesitates to answer.

"It's a sad day for me," he said in an interview. "I had a lot of friends who went into the army and never came back.

"I have a brother-in-law, my older sister's husband, who was killed overseas. I have two cousins and one nephew who were killed overseas. Our families are close knit. When they were killed, it was devastating for our families. It's a sad day.

"But yet, if it wasn't for the Second World War, I sometimes wonder where would our people be," he continued. "What we as a people have now, would we have accomplished that without the war?

"The Second World War gave us the opportunity, and the ability, to learn how to change the system. We couldn't be threatened."

Nearly 60 years ago, as a newly discharged veteran, a thirsty Crowe went into the Fort Qu'Appelle Legion and tried to order a beer. He was thrown out.

"They said I had no business being on their premises," Crowe said, even though he was a member of the Cupar branch of the Royal Canadian Legion. He was given membership in the organization when he was discharged.

But under Saskatchewan's liquor laws of the time, it was illegal to serve alcohol to treaty Indians.

It was a reminder, Crowe said, that his uncles were right-that the fight to protect the rights and freedoms of First Nations people would continue long after the war was over.

Born and raised on Piapot First Nation, Crowe attended the residential school in Lebret from 1929 to 1936. When his father died, he became the breadwinner for his mother and six sisters, working as a hired hand and selling wood and hay.

Three years later, his uncles told him to join the Royal Canadian Army.

"They insisted on it because of the benefits that I would get out of it when it was over, with the hopes that I would come back," he said. A week after Canada declared war on Nazi Germany, Crowe rode Regina's trolley cars to the armory on Elphinstone Street, on his way to join the army.

He left behind more than his uncles, mother and sisters on Piapot. Crowe also had 46 head of cattle, and was forced to put them in the trust of the Indian agent after he left the reserve.

"When I left to go east in November 1939, those cattle were taken away from me, though they were capable of looking after them. There was enough feed, enough water. That was the power of the Indian agent and the bureaucracy at the time," Crowe said.

He never saw the cattle again, never saw any money from the cattle's sale, his family never saw any share of the meat if the animals were slaughtered, and to this day, he doesn't know what happened to them.

Crowe served with the 113th Field Battery, and was later shipped to Halifax, where he was attached to the Port War Signals Station, a joint command of the Canadian army, airforce and navy.

After two years, he was sent to another unit as an instructor. He trained other soldiers on how to use small arms-revolvers and rifles.

"I had learned a lot of that from home, being a hunter," he said.

While the others he trained headed for war, the closest Crowe got to the front was Halifax. Crowe served as a non-commissioned officer and achieved the rank of Bombardier.

By the fall of 1944, the armed forces were starting to wind things down on the training side, and Crowe was discharged. He went back home a changed man, confident and proud of his abilities.

And, as the incident at the Fort Legion illustraed, he went back to a society that wasn't prepared to accept Indians as equals, even if they served in the defense of their country.

"We never faced treatment like that in the army."

First Nations soldiers left the service as free men, but the Canadian government expected them to go back to the lives they led before the war-without the opportunity to work and live as they pleased, or to even receive the same benefits as non-Aboriginal veterans.

Thanks to federal legislation passed in 1943, the federal government made the department of Indian Affairs, not the department of Veterans Affairs, responsible for looking after the needs of First Nations veterans.

In practice, this meant Indian veterans received less money and fewer benefits from Ottawa after their discharge than non-Aboriginal veterans. It also meant the Indian agents-not the veterans-decided what was best.

It was a galling situation for them to return home not as heroes, but as second class citizens.

Such discrimination happened enough times to enough First Nations veterans to lead them to mobilize and fight for their rights.

"In 1956, we made an assessment about what was happening to our people," Crowe said. "We realized that no one was getting past Grade 9. They were dropping out because of the difficulties they were having."

Crowe and other Saskatchewan veterans helped organize what's known today as the Assembly of First Nations.