- Reaction score
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- 410
Didnt realize Jordan was the same as Go!!
Never met him, but he wrote like a good man to have at your back.
RIP brother.
Never met him, but he wrote like a good man to have at your back.
RIP brother.
Cpl Jordan Anderson, 3PPCLI: 04 July 2007 (GO!!!)
- Thread starter armyvern
- Start date
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Rest in peace, GO!!!
You will not be forgotten
You will not be forgotten
- Reaction score
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- 210
I have never met GO!!! But i have talked and read many of his posts he was a very smart man, RIP Brother 
- Reaction score
- 6
- Points
- 410
Someone once accused me of being eloquent and long winded, however the only words that came to mind when I heard this painful news was “damn” ( and perhaps a few more with the same number of letters.)
I know these condolence threads are meant to be brief and simple, but I’m half Irish and we have a tradition of waking our fallen so bear with me. I’ve already done the first part of that, I toasted Jordan and those who fell with him earlier today. The second essential part of a wake involves telling tales of those who’ve passed. It’s out way of processing the grief.
When we started taking casualties in this war I was able to console myself with one fact. The one advantage of taking off the uniform over a decade ago is that the odds are I wouldn’t know any of the fallen personally. I could grieve for them as fallen brothers and sisters but maybe the pain would be a little less. That alas was not to be. I’ve known two of our honoured fallen personally. Jordan was the second.
When he first started posting here as GO it was inevitable we’d clash. I represented all that that he saw “wrong” with the site. I was a Reservist. I was a Senior NCO and one of the “Old School Cold Warrior Dinosaurs” and of course I was one of the site’s staff charged with policing the place. All of these were facts Jordan in his less than diplomatic style made us aware of.
Like many other’s we got past that. A mutual colleague here pointed Jordan to me after he suffered an injury and was dealing with the fact that maybe his career as a “door kicker” and “gunfighter” was drawing to a premature close. I’d had the same happen to me earlier, and that mutual friend though maybe I could offer some insight and help with the natural bitterness that often develops.
We exchanged many emails on the subject and he understood that even in the worse case scenario that it did not mean the profession, the way of life, he had chosen was over, but merely moving off on a new bearing. We talked about his continuing education and many other things. I saw another side beyond the gruff persona he had created here for himself. I saw an intelligent, passionate, honourable young man who had found his true calling in life.
Late evenings would often find us both in the chat room trashing the occasional ninetendo sniper or wannabe that often shows up here. I’m not sure but I think he first coined the phrase” “on the ramp” for someone about to get booted. I know he coined the term “Desperate PMQ Housewives” after a particular amusing domestic affairs charged evening in there.
Along the way I think the initial mistrust fell by the wayside and we became if not friends then at least mutual respective colleagues. Perhaps if circumstance had been different…. I’d like to think of Jordan as a friend and I will.
My only condolence that I can offer to his family is this. He died doing something important and also something he loved. He also passed in the company of his brothers. It’s not much but maybe it will help a bit to assuage your grief. We don’t get to choose the when and where of our passing, we can only hope it was not in vain. In this case it was not.
Fair winds and gentle landing my brother.
MWO (Retired) R.J Smith
The Paratrooper's Prayer
(Found by a French general in the pocket of a soldier killed in action at Dien-Bien-Phu, Viet Nam)
Give me, O Lord my God,
what is left Thee, that which no one asks of Thee.
I do not ask Thee for rest or tranquility,
either of soul or body.
I do not ask Thee for riches,
for success, or for health.
So many ask Thee for these, my God,
that none must be left Thee.
Give me, Lord,
what is left Thee.
Give me what the others refuse.
I want risk and anguish;
I want fight and pain.
Give me these, my God,
once and for all.
Give me the certainty that these
will always be my portion, for I will not
always have the courage to ask them of Thee.
Give me, O Lord,
what is left Thee.
Give me what others do not want.
But also give me courage,
strength, and Faith.
Amen.
I know these condolence threads are meant to be brief and simple, but I’m half Irish and we have a tradition of waking our fallen so bear with me. I’ve already done the first part of that, I toasted Jordan and those who fell with him earlier today. The second essential part of a wake involves telling tales of those who’ve passed. It’s out way of processing the grief.
When we started taking casualties in this war I was able to console myself with one fact. The one advantage of taking off the uniform over a decade ago is that the odds are I wouldn’t know any of the fallen personally. I could grieve for them as fallen brothers and sisters but maybe the pain would be a little less. That alas was not to be. I’ve known two of our honoured fallen personally. Jordan was the second.
When he first started posting here as GO it was inevitable we’d clash. I represented all that that he saw “wrong” with the site. I was a Reservist. I was a Senior NCO and one of the “Old School Cold Warrior Dinosaurs” and of course I was one of the site’s staff charged with policing the place. All of these were facts Jordan in his less than diplomatic style made us aware of.
Like many other’s we got past that. A mutual colleague here pointed Jordan to me after he suffered an injury and was dealing with the fact that maybe his career as a “door kicker” and “gunfighter” was drawing to a premature close. I’d had the same happen to me earlier, and that mutual friend though maybe I could offer some insight and help with the natural bitterness that often develops.
We exchanged many emails on the subject and he understood that even in the worse case scenario that it did not mean the profession, the way of life, he had chosen was over, but merely moving off on a new bearing. We talked about his continuing education and many other things. I saw another side beyond the gruff persona he had created here for himself. I saw an intelligent, passionate, honourable young man who had found his true calling in life.
Late evenings would often find us both in the chat room trashing the occasional ninetendo sniper or wannabe that often shows up here. I’m not sure but I think he first coined the phrase” “on the ramp” for someone about to get booted. I know he coined the term “Desperate PMQ Housewives” after a particular amusing domestic affairs charged evening in there.
Along the way I think the initial mistrust fell by the wayside and we became if not friends then at least mutual respective colleagues. Perhaps if circumstance had been different…. I’d like to think of Jordan as a friend and I will.
My only condolence that I can offer to his family is this. He died doing something important and also something he loved. He also passed in the company of his brothers. It’s not much but maybe it will help a bit to assuage your grief. We don’t get to choose the when and where of our passing, we can only hope it was not in vain. In this case it was not.
Fair winds and gentle landing my brother.
MWO (Retired) R.J Smith
The Paratrooper's Prayer
(Found by a French general in the pocket of a soldier killed in action at Dien-Bien-Phu, Viet Nam)
Give me, O Lord my God,
what is left Thee, that which no one asks of Thee.
I do not ask Thee for rest or tranquility,
either of soul or body.
I do not ask Thee for riches,
for success, or for health.
So many ask Thee for these, my God,
that none must be left Thee.
Give me, Lord,
what is left Thee.
Give me what the others refuse.
I want risk and anguish;
I want fight and pain.
Give me these, my God,
once and for all.
Give me the certainty that these
will always be my portion, for I will not
always have the courage to ask them of Thee.
Give me, O Lord,
what is left Thee.
Give me what others do not want.
But also give me courage,
strength, and Faith.
Amen.
- Reaction score
- 6,401
- Points
- 1,260
Only knew him from the posts - he'll be missed....
- Reaction score
- 66
- Points
- 530
My condolences to the family and friends of Cpl Jordan Anderson aka GO!!!
I only knew Jordan through army.ca but I found him to be a very talented young soldier with a very bright future. It seems with the war in Iraq and Afghanistan some of our best and brightest have made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. We are in their debt. Godbless Cpl Jordan Anderson, it has been a privilege and a pleasure to have known you.
"If Tomorrow Never Comes"
If I knew it would be the last time
that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time
I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute or two
to stop and say "I love you,"
instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.
If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
well I'm sure you'll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there's always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything right.
There will always be another day
to say our "I love you's",
And certainly there's another chance
to say our "Anything I can do's?"
But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget,
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
you get to hold your loved one tight..
So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you'll surely regret the day,
That you didn't take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
and you were too busy to grant someone,
what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today,
whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you'll always hold them dear,
Take time to say "I'm sorry," "please forgive me,"
"thank you" or "it's okay".
And if tomorrow never comes,
you'll have no regrets about today
~anonymous~
I only knew Jordan through army.ca but I found him to be a very talented young soldier with a very bright future. It seems with the war in Iraq and Afghanistan some of our best and brightest have made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. We are in their debt. Godbless Cpl Jordan Anderson, it has been a privilege and a pleasure to have known you.
"If Tomorrow Never Comes"
If I knew it would be the last time
that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time
I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute or two
to stop and say "I love you,"
instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.
If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
well I'm sure you'll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there's always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything right.
There will always be another day
to say our "I love you's",
And certainly there's another chance
to say our "Anything I can do's?"
But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget,
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
you get to hold your loved one tight..
So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you'll surely regret the day,
That you didn't take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
and you were too busy to grant someone,
what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today,
whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you'll always hold them dear,
Take time to say "I'm sorry," "please forgive me,"
"thank you" or "it's okay".
And if tomorrow never comes,
you'll have no regrets about today
~anonymous~
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 210
Although I did not know GO, I only remember his posts... I still wanted to take some time to offer a quick message here, and offer my condolences to those here who have lost a friend. My prayers are with all of you here, and his family too.
My deepest regards,
~Rebecca
My deepest regards,
~Rebecca
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 210
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 410
a_majoor said:
Good post mate!
Truly Canada's "cream of the crop" soldiers, both the flower of our youth, and the experienced are in theatre right now enduring what we read and see on the news. The loss of one is one too many.
Regards,
Wes
- Reaction score
- 6,401
- Points
- 1,260
A bit more about him, shared with the usual disclaimer....
He knew the danger--and liked being a soldier
Slain city infantryman was proud of Afghan mission
Graham Thomson, The Edmonton Journal, 6 Jul 07
http://www.canada.com/components/print.aspx?id=b7ad0353-41b9-47a4-9fdb-b3e26a4749a4
EDMONTON - Just about every day for five months, Cpl. Jordan Anderson slogged his way through the dangerous Afghan countryside toting a rifle, a rucksack and a dream -- that one day he could return without having to wear body armour and travel in armed convoys.
He wanted to come back as a tourist.
"I would like to see Afghanistan turn into somewhere I could visit one day," he said last January, just days before he left Edmonton for his second tour of duty in Afghanistan.
He will never see that dream come true. On Wednesday, he and five fellow soldiers were killed by a bomb planted on a gravel road.
Overnight Thursday, the military identified Anderson and Capt. Jefferson Francis, a Halifax native and member of 1 Royal Canadian Horse Artillery, based in Shilo, Man., as the final two of six soldiers killed in a roadside explosion in Afghanistan on Wednesday.
There is always a terrible sadness when word comes that a Canadian soldier has died. Jordan's death hit me especially hard because he was one of the soldiers I had come to know personally. He was 25 and married. He e-mailed me in April to say he had spent his few weeks' leave from Afghanistan in Florida with his wife.
I had come to know Jordan because he had volunteered to help me prepare for my stint as an embedded journalist with the military in Afghanistan this spring. I liked him immediately. He was friendly, articulate and as curious about the media as I was about the military.
He was also blunt, expressing skepticism of the media's coverage of the military mission, thinking reporters focused too much on Canadian casualties and too little on the work soldiers were doing to make Afghanistan a better place.
I didn't see Jordan again until after we had both been in Afghanistan almost six weeks. I had been trying to link up with his unit -- Charlie Company of 3 Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry from Edmonton -- but Afghanistan has a way of turning plans upside down.
It was March 23, when I was tagging along on what the military had dubbed Operation Marguerite, that I heard a friendly voice call out to me, "Hello, Mr. Thomson."
I looked up, and even though he was one of 250 identically uniformed soldiers with helmets and sunglasses walking along that dusty path, I knew immediately it was Jordan from his smile and easygoing attitude.
We didn't have time to chat at that point. The day was just starting and Jordan was busy helping sweep the district clear of Taliban fighters so that Afghan police could set up a permanent checkpoint to improve security in the area. As patrols go, this was a relatively quiet day. There were all kinds of reports of Taliban fighters, but no shots were fired. At one point we found an improvised explosive device (IED) planted in our path, but it was blown up by engineers.
At the end of the day, with the sun beginning to set and the troops preparing camp for the night, Jordan made a point of seeking me out. He talked about his experiences since arriving in country and his brush with death while on patrol just three days before. A bomb-sniffing dog had triggered an IED that had killed the dog, severely wounded the dog's handler and sent shrapnel tearing through the legs of a military engineer. Jordan was the first soldier on the scene, and I heard later from officers that he had handled the situation so coolly and professionally that he was in line for a commendation.
He was quietly proud of the work he and his colleagues were doing. He genuinely felt he was making life safer and better for Afghans and thus helping rid the country of international terrorism. And, as odd as it might sound in a war zone, Jordan seemed content.
"There's no such thing as a typical day here," he said as troops around him began preparing for the night. "The first three weeks we were here was really slow. We did perimeter security at our FOBs (forward operating bases), just our general shakeout, and we responded to two suicide bombings a day and then nothing for three or four days, and then a whole bunch of patrols, like one a day for a week.
"Everything changes in a heartbeat here. There is no typical day for a (soldier) in the battle group."
He seemed to be actually enjoying himself.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "This is what I joined the army to do. Nobody joined the army to stay in Edmonton."
How could he be so relaxed, I asked him. What about the constant danger?
"Everybody dies," he said with a laugh. "It's dangerous, yeah, but with the equipment we have and the training we have, it's a lot more dangerous for the Taliban here than it is for us."
Sadly, on Wednesday he was proven wrong.
But on that day in late March, he was optimistic and upbeat. Jordan knew the danger and enjoyed being a soldier. On his helmet he had written in ink "Death From Above," a reference to his training as a paratrooper. But he was no rifle-waving Rambo. He was quiet and thoughtful, and when I asked permission to take his picture he didn't strike a "hero pose" with rifle at the ready, as many soldiers happily do.
He placed his weapon on the ground, perched himself on a low mud wall and put his arm around his rucksack. He looked at ease, as if he had finally realized his dream of being a backpacker on vacation in the Afghan countryside.
[email protected]
Tributes for soldier
Anderson attended Notre Dame before joining the military
Rob Vanstone, Leader-Post, 6 Jul 07
http://www.canada.com/reginaleaderpost/story.html?id=1be2a52a-22d0-4f6c-864a-1d47338dcb5a&k=46740
The attributes Jordan Anderson displayed while playing high school football for the Notre Dame Hounds are being saluted following his death in Afghanistan.
Anderson, 25, was one of six Canadian soldiers who were killed Wednesday when their armoured vehicle was destroyed by an improvised explosive device about 20 kilometres south of Kandahar City.
Anderson attended Wilcox-based Athol Murray College of Notre Dame and played on the offensive and defensive lines for the Regina Intercollegiate Football League's Hounds in 1996, 1997 and 1998.
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"He was one of the team guys,'' veteran Notre Dame football coach Rob Palmarin said Thursday, when he discovered the tragic news about Cpl. Anderson. "He was willing to make sacrifices for the team when he played and he was willing to make sacrifices for his country.''
Palmarin kept in touch with Anderson -- a member of the Edmonton-based 3rd Battalion, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry -- following his graduation from Notre Dame in 1999. Anderson is from the Northwest Territories.
"He e-mailed me two years ago from Afghanistan on one of his earlier missions,'' Palmarin recalled. "He said, 'I know we pray at assembly in the morning (at Notre Dame) when we all gather. Please pray for me and all the boys.'
"He had a favourite prayer, which began, 'Saint Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle.' He e-mailed me the words. He kept it simple.
"We're all in shock. We'll try to figure out a way to honour him during the (2007 football) season.''
Palmarin has fond recollections of Anderson and his contributions to the Hounds and the school.
"It's like losing one of your own kids, even though it's eight or nine years removed,'' he said. "He was a tough, two-way lineman. He never made the all-star team, but he was kind of the next guy on the list. He was a battler. I'll always remember that. In one-on-ones, he'd always look to go after the toughest guy.''
Anderson also played rugby for the Hounds for four years.
In his graduating year, he wrote the following in Notre Dame's yearbook: "Thanks, Mom and Dad, for all you've done for me even when times were low. I'll always try and make you proud of me.''
The Hounds' 1998-99 yearbook also listed his ambitions: "To find work that I love, to never look back, and never have any regrets.''
Five of the six deceased soldiers' names have been released. Capt. Matthew Johnathan Dawe, Cpl. Cole Bartsch and Pte. Lane Watkins were in Anderson's battalion. Master Cpl. Colin Bason, a reservist from The Royal Westminster Regiment, also died. The soldiers were to have concluded their deployment in Afghanistan at the end of the month.
"You recall the days of the Second World War where Pere Murray would rally the boys at Notre Dame to join the Canadian Armed Forces and fight the Nazis,'' Palmarin said. "I think we lost 67 Hounds in the Second World War.
"It hits home. It brings the war closer.''
He knew the danger--and liked being a soldier
Slain city infantryman was proud of Afghan mission
Graham Thomson, The Edmonton Journal, 6 Jul 07
http://www.canada.com/components/print.aspx?id=b7ad0353-41b9-47a4-9fdb-b3e26a4749a4
EDMONTON - Just about every day for five months, Cpl. Jordan Anderson slogged his way through the dangerous Afghan countryside toting a rifle, a rucksack and a dream -- that one day he could return without having to wear body armour and travel in armed convoys.
He wanted to come back as a tourist.
"I would like to see Afghanistan turn into somewhere I could visit one day," he said last January, just days before he left Edmonton for his second tour of duty in Afghanistan.
He will never see that dream come true. On Wednesday, he and five fellow soldiers were killed by a bomb planted on a gravel road.
Overnight Thursday, the military identified Anderson and Capt. Jefferson Francis, a Halifax native and member of 1 Royal Canadian Horse Artillery, based in Shilo, Man., as the final two of six soldiers killed in a roadside explosion in Afghanistan on Wednesday.
There is always a terrible sadness when word comes that a Canadian soldier has died. Jordan's death hit me especially hard because he was one of the soldiers I had come to know personally. He was 25 and married. He e-mailed me in April to say he had spent his few weeks' leave from Afghanistan in Florida with his wife.
I had come to know Jordan because he had volunteered to help me prepare for my stint as an embedded journalist with the military in Afghanistan this spring. I liked him immediately. He was friendly, articulate and as curious about the media as I was about the military.
He was also blunt, expressing skepticism of the media's coverage of the military mission, thinking reporters focused too much on Canadian casualties and too little on the work soldiers were doing to make Afghanistan a better place.
I didn't see Jordan again until after we had both been in Afghanistan almost six weeks. I had been trying to link up with his unit -- Charlie Company of 3 Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry from Edmonton -- but Afghanistan has a way of turning plans upside down.
It was March 23, when I was tagging along on what the military had dubbed Operation Marguerite, that I heard a friendly voice call out to me, "Hello, Mr. Thomson."
I looked up, and even though he was one of 250 identically uniformed soldiers with helmets and sunglasses walking along that dusty path, I knew immediately it was Jordan from his smile and easygoing attitude.
We didn't have time to chat at that point. The day was just starting and Jordan was busy helping sweep the district clear of Taliban fighters so that Afghan police could set up a permanent checkpoint to improve security in the area. As patrols go, this was a relatively quiet day. There were all kinds of reports of Taliban fighters, but no shots were fired. At one point we found an improvised explosive device (IED) planted in our path, but it was blown up by engineers.
At the end of the day, with the sun beginning to set and the troops preparing camp for the night, Jordan made a point of seeking me out. He talked about his experiences since arriving in country and his brush with death while on patrol just three days before. A bomb-sniffing dog had triggered an IED that had killed the dog, severely wounded the dog's handler and sent shrapnel tearing through the legs of a military engineer. Jordan was the first soldier on the scene, and I heard later from officers that he had handled the situation so coolly and professionally that he was in line for a commendation.
He was quietly proud of the work he and his colleagues were doing. He genuinely felt he was making life safer and better for Afghans and thus helping rid the country of international terrorism. And, as odd as it might sound in a war zone, Jordan seemed content.
"There's no such thing as a typical day here," he said as troops around him began preparing for the night. "The first three weeks we were here was really slow. We did perimeter security at our FOBs (forward operating bases), just our general shakeout, and we responded to two suicide bombings a day and then nothing for three or four days, and then a whole bunch of patrols, like one a day for a week.
"Everything changes in a heartbeat here. There is no typical day for a (soldier) in the battle group."
He seemed to be actually enjoying himself.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "This is what I joined the army to do. Nobody joined the army to stay in Edmonton."
How could he be so relaxed, I asked him. What about the constant danger?
"Everybody dies," he said with a laugh. "It's dangerous, yeah, but with the equipment we have and the training we have, it's a lot more dangerous for the Taliban here than it is for us."
Sadly, on Wednesday he was proven wrong.
But on that day in late March, he was optimistic and upbeat. Jordan knew the danger and enjoyed being a soldier. On his helmet he had written in ink "Death From Above," a reference to his training as a paratrooper. But he was no rifle-waving Rambo. He was quiet and thoughtful, and when I asked permission to take his picture he didn't strike a "hero pose" with rifle at the ready, as many soldiers happily do.
He placed his weapon on the ground, perched himself on a low mud wall and put his arm around his rucksack. He looked at ease, as if he had finally realized his dream of being a backpacker on vacation in the Afghan countryside.
[email protected]
Tributes for soldier
Anderson attended Notre Dame before joining the military
Rob Vanstone, Leader-Post, 6 Jul 07
http://www.canada.com/reginaleaderpost/story.html?id=1be2a52a-22d0-4f6c-864a-1d47338dcb5a&k=46740
The attributes Jordan Anderson displayed while playing high school football for the Notre Dame Hounds are being saluted following his death in Afghanistan.
Anderson, 25, was one of six Canadian soldiers who were killed Wednesday when their armoured vehicle was destroyed by an improvised explosive device about 20 kilometres south of Kandahar City.
Anderson attended Wilcox-based Athol Murray College of Notre Dame and played on the offensive and defensive lines for the Regina Intercollegiate Football League's Hounds in 1996, 1997 and 1998.
Email to a friendEmail to a friendPrinter friendlyPrinter friendly
Font:
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"He was one of the team guys,'' veteran Notre Dame football coach Rob Palmarin said Thursday, when he discovered the tragic news about Cpl. Anderson. "He was willing to make sacrifices for the team when he played and he was willing to make sacrifices for his country.''
Palmarin kept in touch with Anderson -- a member of the Edmonton-based 3rd Battalion, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry -- following his graduation from Notre Dame in 1999. Anderson is from the Northwest Territories.
"He e-mailed me two years ago from Afghanistan on one of his earlier missions,'' Palmarin recalled. "He said, 'I know we pray at assembly in the morning (at Notre Dame) when we all gather. Please pray for me and all the boys.'
"He had a favourite prayer, which began, 'Saint Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle.' He e-mailed me the words. He kept it simple.
"We're all in shock. We'll try to figure out a way to honour him during the (2007 football) season.''
Palmarin has fond recollections of Anderson and his contributions to the Hounds and the school.
"It's like losing one of your own kids, even though it's eight or nine years removed,'' he said. "He was a tough, two-way lineman. He never made the all-star team, but he was kind of the next guy on the list. He was a battler. I'll always remember that. In one-on-ones, he'd always look to go after the toughest guy.''
Anderson also played rugby for the Hounds for four years.
In his graduating year, he wrote the following in Notre Dame's yearbook: "Thanks, Mom and Dad, for all you've done for me even when times were low. I'll always try and make you proud of me.''
The Hounds' 1998-99 yearbook also listed his ambitions: "To find work that I love, to never look back, and never have any regrets.''
Five of the six deceased soldiers' names have been released. Capt. Matthew Johnathan Dawe, Cpl. Cole Bartsch and Pte. Lane Watkins were in Anderson's battalion. Master Cpl. Colin Bason, a reservist from The Royal Westminster Regiment, also died. The soldiers were to have concluded their deployment in Afghanistan at the end of the month.
"You recall the days of the Second World War where Pere Murray would rally the boys at Notre Dame to join the Canadian Armed Forces and fight the Nazis,'' Palmarin said. "I think we lost 67 Hounds in the Second World War.
"It hits home. It brings the war closer.''
Now I will never have the opportunity to disabuse him of his oft-expressed notion that all of us in Tac Hel are floppers...
I did not make the connection when the first four names were announced - that supplemental shock came many hours later, and after it was confirmed that Matthew Dawe was the sone of LCol Peter Dawe and brother of LCol Peter Dawe, both of whom I know.
From the 6 July 2007 Edmonton Journal:
He knew the danger--and liked being a soldier
Slain city infantryman was proud of Afghan mission
Graham Thomson
The Edmonton Journal
Friday, July 06, 2007
EDMONTON - Just about every day for five months, Cpl. Jordan Anderson slogged his way through the dangerous Afghan countryside toting a rifle, a rucksack and a dream -- that one day he could return without having to wear body armour and travel in armed convoys.
He wanted to come back as a tourist.
"I would like to see Afghanistan turn into somewhere I could visit one day," he said last January, just days before he left Edmonton for his second tour of duty in Afghanistan.
He will never see that dream come true. On Wednesday, he and five fellow soldiers were killed by a bomb planted on a gravel road.
Overnight Thursday, the military identified Anderson and Capt. Jefferson Francis, a Halifax native and member of 1 Royal Canadian Horse Artillery, based in Shilo, Man., as the final two of six soldiers killed in a roadside explosion in Afghanistan on Wednesday.
There is always a terrible sadness when word comes that a Canadian soldier has died. Jordan's death hit me especially hard because he was one of the soldiers I had come to know personally. He was 25 and married. He e-mailed me in April to say he had spent his few weeks' leave from Afghanistan in Florida with his wife.
I had come to know Jordan because he had volunteered to help me prepare for my stint as an embedded journalist with the military in Afghanistan this spring. I liked him immediately. He was friendly, articulate and as curious about the media as I was about the military.
He was also blunt, expressing skepticism of the media's coverage of the military mission, thinking reporters focused too much on Canadian casualties and too little on the work soldiers were doing to make Afghanistan a better place.
I didn't see Jordan again until after we had both been in Afghanistan almost six weeks. I had been trying to link up with his unit -- Charlie Company of 3 Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry from Edmonton -- but Afghanistan has a way of turning plans upside down.
It was March 23, when I was tagging along on what the military had dubbed Operation Marguerite, that I heard a friendly voice call out to me, "Hello, Mr. Thomson."
I looked up, and even though he was one of 250 identically uniformed soldiers with helmets and sunglasses walking along that dusty path, I knew immediately it was Jordan from his smile and easygoing attitude.
We didn't have time to chat at that point. The day was just starting and Jordan was busy helping sweep the district clear of Taliban fighters so that Afghan police could set up a permanent checkpoint to improve security in the area. As patrols go, this was a relatively quiet day. There were all kinds of reports of Taliban fighters, but no shots were fired. At one point we found an improvised explosive device (IED) planted in our path, but it was blown up by engineers.
At the end of the day, with the sun beginning to set and the troops preparing camp for the night, Jordan made a point of seeking me out. He talked about his experiences since arriving in country and his brush with death while on patrol just three days before. A bomb-sniffing dog had triggered an IED that had killed the dog, severely wounded the dog's handler and sent shrapnel tearing through the legs of a military engineer. Jordan was the first soldier on the scene, and I heard later from officers that he had handled the situation so coolly and professionally that he was in line for a commendation.
He was quietly proud of the work he and his colleagues were doing. He genuinely felt he was making life safer and better for Afghans and thus helping rid the country of international terrorism. And, as odd as it might sound in a war zone, Jordan seemed content.
"There's no such thing as a typical day here," he said as troops around him began preparing for the night. "The first three weeks we were here was really slow. We did perimeter security at our FOBs (forward operating bases), just our general shakeout, and we responded to two suicide bombings a day and then nothing for three or four days, and then a whole bunch of patrols, like one a day for a week.
"Everything changes in a heartbeat here. There is no typical day for a (soldier) in the battle group."
He seemed to be actually enjoying himself.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "This is what I joined the army to do. Nobody joined the army to stay in Edmonton."
How could he be so relaxed, I asked him. What about the constant danger?
"Everybody dies," he said with a laugh. "It's dangerous, yeah, but with the equipment we have and the training we have, it's a lot more dangerous for the Taliban here than it is for us."
Sadly, on Wednesday he was proven wrong.
But on that day in late March, he was optimistic and upbeat. Jordan knew the danger and enjoyed being a soldier. On his helmet he had written in ink "Death From Above," a reference to his training as a paratrooper. But he was no rifle-waving Rambo. He was quiet and thoughtful, and when I asked permission to take his picture he didn't strike a "hero pose" with rifle at the ready, as many soldiers happily do.
He placed his weapon on the ground, perched himself on a low mud wall and put his arm around his rucksack. He looked at ease, as if he had finally realized his dream of being a backpacker on vacation in the Afghan countryside.
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I did not make the connection when the first four names were announced - that supplemental shock came many hours later, and after it was confirmed that Matthew Dawe was the sone of LCol Peter Dawe and brother of LCol Peter Dawe, both of whom I know.
From the 6 July 2007 Edmonton Journal:
He knew the danger--and liked being a soldier
Slain city infantryman was proud of Afghan mission
Graham Thomson
The Edmonton Journal
Friday, July 06, 2007
EDMONTON - Just about every day for five months, Cpl. Jordan Anderson slogged his way through the dangerous Afghan countryside toting a rifle, a rucksack and a dream -- that one day he could return without having to wear body armour and travel in armed convoys.
He wanted to come back as a tourist.
"I would like to see Afghanistan turn into somewhere I could visit one day," he said last January, just days before he left Edmonton for his second tour of duty in Afghanistan.
He will never see that dream come true. On Wednesday, he and five fellow soldiers were killed by a bomb planted on a gravel road.
Overnight Thursday, the military identified Anderson and Capt. Jefferson Francis, a Halifax native and member of 1 Royal Canadian Horse Artillery, based in Shilo, Man., as the final two of six soldiers killed in a roadside explosion in Afghanistan on Wednesday.
There is always a terrible sadness when word comes that a Canadian soldier has died. Jordan's death hit me especially hard because he was one of the soldiers I had come to know personally. He was 25 and married. He e-mailed me in April to say he had spent his few weeks' leave from Afghanistan in Florida with his wife.
I had come to know Jordan because he had volunteered to help me prepare for my stint as an embedded journalist with the military in Afghanistan this spring. I liked him immediately. He was friendly, articulate and as curious about the media as I was about the military.
He was also blunt, expressing skepticism of the media's coverage of the military mission, thinking reporters focused too much on Canadian casualties and too little on the work soldiers were doing to make Afghanistan a better place.
I didn't see Jordan again until after we had both been in Afghanistan almost six weeks. I had been trying to link up with his unit -- Charlie Company of 3 Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry from Edmonton -- but Afghanistan has a way of turning plans upside down.
It was March 23, when I was tagging along on what the military had dubbed Operation Marguerite, that I heard a friendly voice call out to me, "Hello, Mr. Thomson."
I looked up, and even though he was one of 250 identically uniformed soldiers with helmets and sunglasses walking along that dusty path, I knew immediately it was Jordan from his smile and easygoing attitude.
We didn't have time to chat at that point. The day was just starting and Jordan was busy helping sweep the district clear of Taliban fighters so that Afghan police could set up a permanent checkpoint to improve security in the area. As patrols go, this was a relatively quiet day. There were all kinds of reports of Taliban fighters, but no shots were fired. At one point we found an improvised explosive device (IED) planted in our path, but it was blown up by engineers.
At the end of the day, with the sun beginning to set and the troops preparing camp for the night, Jordan made a point of seeking me out. He talked about his experiences since arriving in country and his brush with death while on patrol just three days before. A bomb-sniffing dog had triggered an IED that had killed the dog, severely wounded the dog's handler and sent shrapnel tearing through the legs of a military engineer. Jordan was the first soldier on the scene, and I heard later from officers that he had handled the situation so coolly and professionally that he was in line for a commendation.
He was quietly proud of the work he and his colleagues were doing. He genuinely felt he was making life safer and better for Afghans and thus helping rid the country of international terrorism. And, as odd as it might sound in a war zone, Jordan seemed content.
"There's no such thing as a typical day here," he said as troops around him began preparing for the night. "The first three weeks we were here was really slow. We did perimeter security at our FOBs (forward operating bases), just our general shakeout, and we responded to two suicide bombings a day and then nothing for three or four days, and then a whole bunch of patrols, like one a day for a week.
"Everything changes in a heartbeat here. There is no typical day for a (soldier) in the battle group."
He seemed to be actually enjoying himself.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "This is what I joined the army to do. Nobody joined the army to stay in Edmonton."
How could he be so relaxed, I asked him. What about the constant danger?
"Everybody dies," he said with a laugh. "It's dangerous, yeah, but with the equipment we have and the training we have, it's a lot more dangerous for the Taliban here than it is for us."
Sadly, on Wednesday he was proven wrong.
But on that day in late March, he was optimistic and upbeat. Jordan knew the danger and enjoyed being a soldier. On his helmet he had written in ink "Death From Above," a reference to his training as a paratrooper. But he was no rifle-waving Rambo. He was quiet and thoughtful, and when I asked permission to take his picture he didn't strike a "hero pose" with rifle at the ready, as many soldiers happily do.
He placed his weapon on the ground, perched himself on a low mud wall and put his arm around his rucksack. He looked at ease, as if he had finally realized his dream of being a backpacker on vacation in the Afghan countryside.
[email protected]
