Tpr. Mark Andrew Wilson - RCD - 07 Oct 06
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Remembered in the House of Commons (Hansard, 16 Oct 06)
http://www2.parl.gc.ca/HousePublications/Publication.aspx?Language=E&Mode=1&Parl=39&Ses=1&DocId=2401737#SOB-1693000
Mrs. Irene Mathyssen (London—Fanshawe, NDP):
Mr. Speaker, sadly today one of Canada's dedicated soldiers was laid to rest in London, Ontario. On October 7, trooper Mark Andrew Wilson was killed near Kandahar in Afghanistan when a roadside bomb struck his armoured vehicle. He was 39 years old. He left behind a devoted family, a wife and two sons.
A member of the Royal Canadian Dragoons, Trooper Wilson was an outdoor enthusiast who joined the Canadian Forces later than most, at age 35. He was described by his family as a rock, a caregiver and the type of person everyone loved. He was always smiling.
Trooper Wilson was a dedicated, knowledgeable and energetic soldier who was always looking to increase his skills and abilities. He was viewed as trustworthy and was well respected by his fellow soldiers and supervisors alike.
Trooper Wilson was a courageous and honourable man who made the ultimate sacrifice for his country. He will be greatly missed.
I wish to extend my deepest sympathies to his family and friends. My thoughts are with them today.
* * *
http://www2.parl.gc.ca/HousePublications/Publication.aspx?Language=E&Mode=1&Parl=39&Ses=1&DocId=2401737#SOB-1693000
Mrs. Irene Mathyssen (London—Fanshawe, NDP):
Mr. Speaker, sadly today one of Canada's dedicated soldiers was laid to rest in London, Ontario. On October 7, trooper Mark Andrew Wilson was killed near Kandahar in Afghanistan when a roadside bomb struck his armoured vehicle. He was 39 years old. He left behind a devoted family, a wife and two sons.
A member of the Royal Canadian Dragoons, Trooper Wilson was an outdoor enthusiast who joined the Canadian Forces later than most, at age 35. He was described by his family as a rock, a caregiver and the type of person everyone loved. He was always smiling.
Trooper Wilson was a dedicated, knowledgeable and energetic soldier who was always looking to increase his skills and abilities. He was viewed as trustworthy and was well respected by his fellow soldiers and supervisors alike.
Trooper Wilson was a courageous and honourable man who made the ultimate sacrifice for his country. He will be greatly missed.
I wish to extend my deepest sympathies to his family and friends. My thoughts are with them today.
* * *
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Two accounts from today's London Free Press:
************************************************************
Soldier afforded fitting last farewell
Tue, October 17, 2006
We all mourn : A city pays its respects as Trooper Mark Wilson is laid to rest. The sounds of silence
By JENNIFER O'BRIEN, FREE PRESS REPORTER
Inside a London church yesterday, at least 1,000 people - relatives, friends and soldiers - stood united behind the broken family of Trooper Mark Wilson.
Outside the packed Mary Immaculate Catholic Church - under yellow-ribboned trees and in a wind-lashed parking lot - stood scores of people who didn't know the fallen soldier, but felt his loss.
It was a fitting final farewell from a city that has joined in grief - most notably with a grassroots yellow-ribbon campaign - since Wilson, 39, died Oct. 7 in a roadside blast near Kandahar, Afghanistan.
"I have been enormously impressed with how our community has responded to this tragedy," Rev. Graham Keep said in an emotional sermon piped over outdoor speakers to throngs gathered outside the church.
As a sign of solidarity with Mark's family, one cannot find any yellow ribbon anywhere in this city."
"They're sold out," he said of fabric stores that had reported a run on yellow ribbon since a radio show caller challenged the city to show its support for the grieving family. "Good, they should be sold out."
Yesterday, the bright ribbons adorned the lapels of many who attended. Others wore red. Some wore poppies.
All were solemn as they emerged from the 50-vehicle procession and filed into the church. Then, to the lonely skirl of a bagpipe, the black-clad family emerged from limousines and stood, red-eyed, clutching tissues, waiting for soldiers to carry Wilson's flag-draped casket into the church.
Wilson's mother, Carolyn, leaned into her grandson, Josh, 17 - Wilson's older son - and wrapped her arm tightly around
him.
Nearby, Wilson's widow, Dawn, held the hand of her younger son, Ben, 11. Behind them, Wilson's father, Carl, swallowed hard as eight soldiers lifted the casket.
Josh put a comforting hand on the shoulder of his uncle, Sean, who broke down beside him. Then together, supported by each other and an entire city, the family moved inside to say goodbye.
"Mark will always live on for us as our hero," Pete Sandford, Wilson's godfather, said in the eulogy.
Keep urged the congregation to have hope, commended the family's courage and noted how their tragic loss had brought Londoners together in sympathy and support. He also thanked the 1,000 people who filled the church's pews, halls and even its basement.
"Mark's death was not in vain," he said. "It is a call to all of us to be peacekeepers in our own lives."
As the mass went on, a lone woman stood far back in the church parking lot, holding a small Canadian flag.
"I'm concerned about our men in Afghanistan, all of them," said Audrey Blackwell, who lives nearby. "This is so very sad, I had tears in my eyes before I came today."
Across the street, under a golden maple tree adorned with a yellow bow, stood a clutch of people. Most didn't know each other. They couldn't hear the service. But they were among those, including flag-waving schoolchildren, who lined the streets.
"We wanted to support the family," said Melanie Bergeron, who stood with her nine-month-old daughter throughout the mass. "We just wanted to see it through."
A half hour before the mass began, pupils from St. Robert and Holy Family schools filed out to the church property, holding paper Canadian flags. "Thank you for your bravery. R.I.P. Marc Wilson," one child's sign read.
In front of the church, a 12-member honour guard from Wilson's unit, the Royal Canadian Dragoons based at CFB Petawawa, stood at attention to meet their fallen comrade. An unofficial honour guard of local veterans, firefighters and police saluted as the hearse drew up.
"I fought for his world, then he fought for mine," said Jack Weekes, a Royal Canadian Air Force retiree. "It's the least you can do."
Among the military officials paying their respects was the Dragoons' commanding officer, Lt. Col. Stephen Cadden, who said Wilson also would be honoured at a service today in Petawawa.
He said Canadian troops have been bolstered by recent outpourings of support.
"In my 23 years in the military, I have never seen this level of support," he said.
************************************************************
The sounds of silence
By Ian Gillespie
There were words, to be sure. And there were sights, as well.
But often, it was the sounds - and sometimes even the stunning absence of sound - that stood out at yesterday's funeral for Trooper Mark Wilson at Mary Immaculate Catholic Church.
There were, for instance, the words of Rev. Graham Keep.
"This thing called life is temporary . . . and in this moment, we are called to look at our own lives," said Keep, whose words were also carried by loudspeaker to mourners who couldn't find a seat in the church and gathered in the church's basement and parking lot.
"Mark's death was not in vain," Keep said. "It's a call to all of us to be peacekeepers in our lives."
There were words, to be sure. Though Keep clearly understood how such things can fall so short.
"What can we say in a time like this?" he asked the mourners. "Words often seem empty."
And there were sights.
There were the lines of firefighters, police officers and members of the RCMP and military in their crisp uniforms and polished boots; the rows of medals dangling from veterans' chests; the flag-draped coffin bearing the remains of the London native, who was killed in the early morning hours of Oct. 7 near Kandahar, Afghanistan.
There was the sight of Wilson's family, their sorrow almost too visible for an onlooker to bear.
And there were sounds, too.
There was, for instance, the eerie silence of about 360 pupils from nearby St. Robert elementary school - the same
school that Wilson attended as a boy some 30 years ago.
The children lined the west side of Admiral Drive and the edge of the church parking lot. They stood - their voices silent - holding page-size replicas of the Canadian flag, many of them coloured with pencil and crayon.
These were just children - kids from kindergarten through Grade 8, kids whose brains and bodies crave noise and movement, kids hard-wired to run and jump and yell.
And yet, these children stood silent. And patient. And still.
All you could hear was the rustling of their little paper flags.
When the hearse arrived at 11 a.m., there was the sound of applause. Not loud or raucous. But sad and gentle, like a morning rain.
There was the sound of shuffling feet as eight soldiers lifted Wilson's coffin from the hearse.
There was the sound of an airplane droning overhead. There was the sound of gun butts striking asphalt as soldiers from the Royal Canadian Dragoons snapped into position. There was the sound of stifled sorrow - mere sniffles, really - that spoke of red eyes, respect and restraint.
Then later, when the service had ended, there were sounds of three London police motorcycles - their antennae bearing yellow ribbons that one now sees across this city far and wide - as they led the procession to the cemetery.
And again, there was applause.
And as the motorcade of mourners pulled out of the parking lot and turned on to Trafalgar Street, I asked one man, standing alone, what he was doing there.
"I'm here to honour a brother," the man said. "Although I didn't know him."
The man is named Mark Vandermaas. He served, he said, with the United Nations Emergency Force No. 2 in Egypt, near the Suez Canal, for six months in 1978. He was a private - a "vehicle technician" - based out of Toronto.
He showed up yesterday at about 11 a.m. then stood, for more than two hours, on the sidewalk across from the church.
"It's the least we can do," he says. "It's really tragic, but we have to fight evil wherever it is."
Vandermaas tells me he went downtown to sign the remembrance book set up in Wilson's honour at city hall.
"But I didn't know what to write," he says.
And then, as the big man turns away from me and stares across the road at the departing crowd, a single tear rolls down his cheek and drops to the ground, without a sound.
************************************************************
The display of support from many, many ordinary people - especially the schoolchildren - as described was really moving. I hope that that gives some measure of support to the family.
At the cemetery, I ended up about three or four people back from the front row, facing the family across the coffin, gathered under one of those collapsible gazebo things. That was very, very hard, especially seeing whom I took to be Ben as he was saying good-bye to his Dad.
I am still not over it.
************************************************************
Soldier afforded fitting last farewell
Tue, October 17, 2006
We all mourn : A city pays its respects as Trooper Mark Wilson is laid to rest. The sounds of silence
By JENNIFER O'BRIEN, FREE PRESS REPORTER
Inside a London church yesterday, at least 1,000 people - relatives, friends and soldiers - stood united behind the broken family of Trooper Mark Wilson.
Outside the packed Mary Immaculate Catholic Church - under yellow-ribboned trees and in a wind-lashed parking lot - stood scores of people who didn't know the fallen soldier, but felt his loss.
It was a fitting final farewell from a city that has joined in grief - most notably with a grassroots yellow-ribbon campaign - since Wilson, 39, died Oct. 7 in a roadside blast near Kandahar, Afghanistan.
"I have been enormously impressed with how our community has responded to this tragedy," Rev. Graham Keep said in an emotional sermon piped over outdoor speakers to throngs gathered outside the church.
As a sign of solidarity with Mark's family, one cannot find any yellow ribbon anywhere in this city."
"They're sold out," he said of fabric stores that had reported a run on yellow ribbon since a radio show caller challenged the city to show its support for the grieving family. "Good, they should be sold out."
Yesterday, the bright ribbons adorned the lapels of many who attended. Others wore red. Some wore poppies.
All were solemn as they emerged from the 50-vehicle procession and filed into the church. Then, to the lonely skirl of a bagpipe, the black-clad family emerged from limousines and stood, red-eyed, clutching tissues, waiting for soldiers to carry Wilson's flag-draped casket into the church.
Wilson's mother, Carolyn, leaned into her grandson, Josh, 17 - Wilson's older son - and wrapped her arm tightly around
him.
Nearby, Wilson's widow, Dawn, held the hand of her younger son, Ben, 11. Behind them, Wilson's father, Carl, swallowed hard as eight soldiers lifted the casket.
Josh put a comforting hand on the shoulder of his uncle, Sean, who broke down beside him. Then together, supported by each other and an entire city, the family moved inside to say goodbye.
"Mark will always live on for us as our hero," Pete Sandford, Wilson's godfather, said in the eulogy.
Keep urged the congregation to have hope, commended the family's courage and noted how their tragic loss had brought Londoners together in sympathy and support. He also thanked the 1,000 people who filled the church's pews, halls and even its basement.
"Mark's death was not in vain," he said. "It is a call to all of us to be peacekeepers in our own lives."
As the mass went on, a lone woman stood far back in the church parking lot, holding a small Canadian flag.
"I'm concerned about our men in Afghanistan, all of them," said Audrey Blackwell, who lives nearby. "This is so very sad, I had tears in my eyes before I came today."
Across the street, under a golden maple tree adorned with a yellow bow, stood a clutch of people. Most didn't know each other. They couldn't hear the service. But they were among those, including flag-waving schoolchildren, who lined the streets.
"We wanted to support the family," said Melanie Bergeron, who stood with her nine-month-old daughter throughout the mass. "We just wanted to see it through."
A half hour before the mass began, pupils from St. Robert and Holy Family schools filed out to the church property, holding paper Canadian flags. "Thank you for your bravery. R.I.P. Marc Wilson," one child's sign read.
In front of the church, a 12-member honour guard from Wilson's unit, the Royal Canadian Dragoons based at CFB Petawawa, stood at attention to meet their fallen comrade. An unofficial honour guard of local veterans, firefighters and police saluted as the hearse drew up.
"I fought for his world, then he fought for mine," said Jack Weekes, a Royal Canadian Air Force retiree. "It's the least you can do."
Among the military officials paying their respects was the Dragoons' commanding officer, Lt. Col. Stephen Cadden, who said Wilson also would be honoured at a service today in Petawawa.
He said Canadian troops have been bolstered by recent outpourings of support.
"In my 23 years in the military, I have never seen this level of support," he said.
************************************************************
The sounds of silence
By Ian Gillespie
There were words, to be sure. And there were sights, as well.
But often, it was the sounds - and sometimes even the stunning absence of sound - that stood out at yesterday's funeral for Trooper Mark Wilson at Mary Immaculate Catholic Church.
There were, for instance, the words of Rev. Graham Keep.
"This thing called life is temporary . . . and in this moment, we are called to look at our own lives," said Keep, whose words were also carried by loudspeaker to mourners who couldn't find a seat in the church and gathered in the church's basement and parking lot.
"Mark's death was not in vain," Keep said. "It's a call to all of us to be peacekeepers in our lives."
There were words, to be sure. Though Keep clearly understood how such things can fall so short.
"What can we say in a time like this?" he asked the mourners. "Words often seem empty."
And there were sights.
There were the lines of firefighters, police officers and members of the RCMP and military in their crisp uniforms and polished boots; the rows of medals dangling from veterans' chests; the flag-draped coffin bearing the remains of the London native, who was killed in the early morning hours of Oct. 7 near Kandahar, Afghanistan.
There was the sight of Wilson's family, their sorrow almost too visible for an onlooker to bear.
And there were sounds, too.
There was, for instance, the eerie silence of about 360 pupils from nearby St. Robert elementary school - the same
school that Wilson attended as a boy some 30 years ago.
The children lined the west side of Admiral Drive and the edge of the church parking lot. They stood - their voices silent - holding page-size replicas of the Canadian flag, many of them coloured with pencil and crayon.
These were just children - kids from kindergarten through Grade 8, kids whose brains and bodies crave noise and movement, kids hard-wired to run and jump and yell.
And yet, these children stood silent. And patient. And still.
All you could hear was the rustling of their little paper flags.
When the hearse arrived at 11 a.m., there was the sound of applause. Not loud or raucous. But sad and gentle, like a morning rain.
There was the sound of shuffling feet as eight soldiers lifted Wilson's coffin from the hearse.
There was the sound of an airplane droning overhead. There was the sound of gun butts striking asphalt as soldiers from the Royal Canadian Dragoons snapped into position. There was the sound of stifled sorrow - mere sniffles, really - that spoke of red eyes, respect and restraint.
Then later, when the service had ended, there were sounds of three London police motorcycles - their antennae bearing yellow ribbons that one now sees across this city far and wide - as they led the procession to the cemetery.
And again, there was applause.
And as the motorcade of mourners pulled out of the parking lot and turned on to Trafalgar Street, I asked one man, standing alone, what he was doing there.
"I'm here to honour a brother," the man said. "Although I didn't know him."
The man is named Mark Vandermaas. He served, he said, with the United Nations Emergency Force No. 2 in Egypt, near the Suez Canal, for six months in 1978. He was a private - a "vehicle technician" - based out of Toronto.
He showed up yesterday at about 11 a.m. then stood, for more than two hours, on the sidewalk across from the church.
"It's the least we can do," he says. "It's really tragic, but we have to fight evil wherever it is."
Vandermaas tells me he went downtown to sign the remembrance book set up in Wilson's honour at city hall.
"But I didn't know what to write," he says.
And then, as the big man turns away from me and stares across the road at the departing crowd, a single tear rolls down his cheek and drops to the ground, without a sound.
************************************************************
The display of support from many, many ordinary people - especially the schoolchildren - as described was really moving. I hope that that gives some measure of support to the family.
At the cemetery, I ended up about three or four people back from the front row, facing the family across the coffin, gathered under one of those collapsible gazebo things. That was very, very hard, especially seeing whom I took to be Ben as he was saying good-bye to his Dad.
I am still not over it.
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Thank you for that, it must have been a wonderful sight and i wish i could have been there to see it. Thank you for the post
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