History book about 'Indians' at war informative yet bothersome

At first glance, it comes across as a very deeply offensive subject for an academic study: the role that the country’s aboriginals played in the First World War.

For King and Kanata is unabashed in its glorification of war and in its somewhat outdated terminology. It clearly refers to “Canadian Indians” as its subject matter right on the cover. It seems like somewhere along the line, someone should have stopped author Timothy C. Winegard and suggested something a little more politically correct. Many people – except for this scholar – have changed to using the terms natives, aboriginals, First Nations, Métis and so on.

Regardless of that, Winegard’s book is still an important addition to the library of any war historian, professional or amateur.

Every 10 years or so, there’s a new movie or story about some demographic group’s participation in some armed conflict. Recently, there was a movie called Red Tails about African American fighter pilots during the Second World War. A decade ago, there was Windtalkers, a movie about Navajo marines who played a valuable role in secret communications during the same time.

For King and Kanata is about this country’s status Indians during the First World War. Apparently, when the call to arms was issued in 1914, Canada’s First Nations pledged both men and money to the Crown. This was first to honour their long-standing tradition of forming military alliances with Europeans during times of war. It also served as a means of resisting cultural assimilation while working toward attaining equality through shared service and sacrifice.

Interestingly, the Canadian government initially rejected the pledge of honour because it believed aboriginals to be unsuited to modern warfare. It didn’t take long, however, before Great Britain realized it was more important to have soldiers of any stripe fighting for the Allies. It intervened and demanded that this country actively recruit Indian soldiers.

This was accomplished through a tricky and intricate series of communications and deliberations between the Imperial Colonial and War Offices, the Department of Indian Affairs, and the Ministry of Militia.

Winegard’s narrative explains how national and international forces factored into the service of more than 4,000 status Indians as volunteers in the Canadian Expeditionary Force between 1914 and 1919. This per capita percentage was equal to that of Canadians of European descent.

Frankly, the notion of studying war is distasteful, especially when a basic historical recounting of events also includes baseball card details about famous soldiers. Here’s an example:

“Lance Corporal Henry ‘Ducky’ Norwest of the 50th Battalion, of Cree ancestry from Edmonton, Alberta, accumulated 115 kills. The former rancher, trapper, and rodeo performer earned the Military Medal with bar, making him one of 838 Canadians to be awarded this double honour.”

Norwest was apparently killed during the Battle of Amiens, leading his commanding officer to issue this tribute: “I doubt if anyone in the Canadian Corps or in the whole British Army had a finer record than he … His Indian blood possibly helped him in his work, possibly inherited his patience and cunning from his hunting forebears … his example an inspiration.”

Yes, there was a story that hadn’t been told before, but it still seems bizarre and in bad taste to laud a former rodeo performer named Ducky with killing 115 people before being killed himself during one of the most violent times in our world’s history. That’s just what For King and Kanata does, and sadly, it does it very well.