Thank you, Mr. Chair. I apologize in advance to anyone who may be offended by my comments.
I have a real Aryan face. I was partnered with a Canadian soldier of Croatian background. We did a lot of undercover work. I dressed in civilian clothes a number of times, and we had to walk around certain areas to get to know certain faces, conduct passive recce missions, and so on. So I walked around a lot, I stole vehicles, weapons and equipment from other armies. I had to dress as a soldier of the other armies and infiltrated the camps. But I could not say exactly where I went when it was not what I saw. It was very vague. I walked a lot . We did not always have maps and we did not go to the nicest of places.
At the same time as these missions, I had my normal soldier duties. When we were assigned to certain duties and the warrant officer came to tell us that he needed "two reliable guys", we knew what was waiting for us. Officially, we were on vacation or on sick leave, and nothing we did was ever recorded.
When we opened up Titov Drvar, I had the worst experience of my life. Our resupply convoys were attacked and logistics personnel were taken hostage. So, it was winter, and we had no more supplies. At one point, the warrant officer asked for his "two reliable guys" to go find food to feed the platoon for at least a month and a half, given that Canada could no longer supply us with food. Horrible things had to be done and we had to go places that I prefer not to remember anymore.
I'm sorry for getting emotional.
Coincidentally, after the Bosnia mission, I was asked to join the airborne unit, since I had perfectly fulfilled my soldier work. Reading between the lines, you can see that, in Bosnia, I went from child to soldier fairly quickly.
Then, going with parachutists, I loved that. I changed a lot. I learned about Joint Task Force Two. I started training body and soul to get into the special forces. I took part in the special forces selection, and it went very well. Keep in mind that when I was in the reserves, I was promoted to master corporal and sergeant. Before leaving, the major told me that if I wanted to, I could get into Joint Task Force Two, but that he needed me in East Timor. So I agreed to be involved in the mission because I felt that was the best way I could serve my country. However, I had one condition: on my return from East Timor, he had to let me join Joint Task Force Two. The major promised.
We went to East Timor in 1999. When we arrived in Australia, the Australian military didn't even know we were showing up. We spent some time at a military camp in Darwin, Australia, and eventually went through and had a naval landing. It was very funny because it was the first time the Canadians had done a naval landing since the Korean War. We did not have any experience in that. We did it and expected to be attacked. When we arrived on the beach, journalists were waiting for us and were filming. We knew that there wasn't much danger. So we got up, gave ourselves a shake and continued our work. The East Timor mission was fairly passive. The worst attack was when a fisherman attacked with a spear. It didn't get very far.
The most difficult thing in East Timor was searching refugee camps. Full searches had to be done of men, children, babies. Weapons were sometimes hidden in dead babies and other similarly sickening things. It made me feel sick, but we did it.
We also had to bring people back home. When the soldiers got out of the trucks with a 12-year-old girl or younger children, they looked for the adult, but no, there were no adults. They had to leave children alone in the jungle, left to their fate. Humanly speaking, I swear that, at that moment, you feel powerless.
While I was in the jungle, I did not know what was going on. I was stung on the finger by an insect. My finger became paralyzed. Then my neck and my body became completely paralyzed. I lost 35 pounds of muscle in nine days. After that, I was a dead weight, a burden on my platoon.
A few days later, I wasn't even able to take care of myself, to butter my toast and feed myself. My friends had to spoon-feed me because I couldn't use my hands anymore.
The doctor told me that if I continued to pretend to be sick, he would send me back to Canada. Listen, no one can pretend to lose 35 pounds of muscle. So, I was sent back to Canada. I was extremely humiliated because the military authorities said there was nothing wrong with me. I was judged by my comrades in arms. Fortunately, I have friends who are doctors who discovered that I had uranium poisoning, which would explain all my health problems. As a result, I returned, with honour, to the ranks of the parachute company and told my comrades that if they were sick and had symptoms like mine, they should be tested because they, too, could be radioactive. After that, my pride, love and respect for my comrades in arms was renewed.
I was then released for medical reasons in 2005, but I wasn't given a medical diagnosis. I was then entitled to the wonderful administrative machinery of the Department of Veterans Affairs. I was told to prove that my physical condition was due to my military service. Then, the doctors told me that I was pretending to be sick, so they did not want to see me in their office.
And there you have it: my military career.