In every issue of Kayak, we feature a cool fiction story about a famous person or event in Canada's past. Check back often for some great reading!

War Work

Winkler, Manitoba, April 30, 1941

Julie Klassen was mad at her father, and mad at herself for being mad at him, but she couldn’t keep the words from tumbling out. “Why can’t you just sign up for the army like everyone else? Why do you have to go away?”

Her father tried to take her hand, but she twisted away angrily. “Julie, I would be even farther if I joined the military. I’d have to go all the way to Europe to fight and maybe kill. You know that we Mennonites believe in peace, not war.”

“I don’t want to be a Mennonite, then!” Julie half-yelled, half-sobbed.

Mr. Klassen picked up his worn old suitcase and reached for his hat. “I have to go now, Julie,” he said, kissing the top of her head, his eyes full of sadness.

“Goodbye, Clarence,” said Mrs. Klassen. “I am proud of you.” She hugged her husband and handed him a paper bag. “I made you some sandwiches. Heaven only knows what they’ll feed you in that work camp.”

She said the last two words like they tasted bad in her mouth.

Mr. Klassen opened the door and turned back for one last look. “Goodbye, Elsie,” he said to his wife. “And goodbye kjlienakje.”

“I’m not your little one!” Julie ran out the back door to her favourite hiding spot among the bushes. The tears wouldn’t stop. She wiped them away angrily as she peeked through the leaves to watch her beloved father walking away, tall and straight-backed.

“He’ll be back before we know it.” Mrs. Klassen knelt down beside Julie. “He’s being a coward!” Julie cried. Her mother was shocked. “Julie Klassen — how can you say that?”

“It was some men at the post office, when you sent me to buy stamps,” Julie said. “They were talking about the Mennonites. They said that only a coward would refuse to defend his country.”

Mrs. Klassen hugged her daughter tightly. “Oh, Julie. Your father — all of us Mennonites — are the opposite of cowards. We are standing up for what we believe in: peace. How could we possibly say it’s all right to pick up a gun and kill?”

Julie sighed. “But then why can’t he at least help out? My teacher said the army needs men to help carry wounded soldiers and cook their food and stuff.”

“If we say no to war, Julie, we say no. The government tried to force Mennonite men to do war projects, but they refused. It may not be fighting, but it is not the way of peace.”

“Then why can’t he just stay here?” Julie asked.

For just a moment, her mother’s voice faltered. “Oh darling ... I wish he could. But the government says war resisters have to do something. So he and the others must report to work camps tomorrow. They will dig ditches or build roads.”

She hugged Julie tighter. “That is why you should be proud of your papa. He will be doing good to replace the men who have gone to fight.”

Julie stood up and peered down the road, but her father was gone. “I’m going up to my room to . . . to read,” she said slowly.

As she trudged up the stairs, she tried to ignore the horrible twisty feeling in her stomach. Why had she said such mean things to her father? What if she never saw him again?

She slumped on to her bed, tracing the beautiful old log cabin quilt design with her finger. When she lay back on the pillow, she was surprised to hear a crinkling sound. What could be causing it? She stuck her hand under the pillow and pulled out an envelope with her name on it. She tore it open and yanked out the letter.

“Dear Kjlienakje
I miss you already. I am sorry I had to leave, but at least I will be doing something good instead cf something that hurts others. There are many ways to help Canada, and I must take the peaceful way. Don’t worry if people say bad things about me and the other war resisters. Be strong and help your mama. With your brothers and sisters all married, she needs you. I will be home soon, all brown and strong from my work. I love you, little one.”

Julie held the letter to her heart. “I love you, too, papa,” she whispered.

Conscientious objectors, Kootenay National Park, 1945

by Ray Crook

For more than 200 years, Canada has allowed some people not to fight in our military, even when others were required to do so. These people are often known as conscientious (con-shee-EN-chuss) objectors — that is, their religion or their personal beliefs mean they have such strong objections to war that they will not fight. In 1793, Lord Simcoe, the governor of Upper Canada, declared that Mennonites, Quakers and Tunkers, also known as Brethren in Christ, did not have to serve in the military. He knew they were peace-loving people, and wanted them to emigrate from Europe to Canada. Later, Doukhobors and Hutterites were added to the list of those not required to fight.

In the First World War, conscientious objectors or COs had to appear in front of a local review board to state their case. In both wars, COs were often seen as unpatriotic and even cowardly. During the Second World War, the government wanted COs to do military work that didn’t involve fighting, but COs resisted and were eventually given work in forestry, building roads or working in national parks. As the war went on, COs were given the work of farmers and factory workers who had gone off to fight.

There were nearly 11,000 conscientious objectors in Canada as the war drew to a close in 1945.