Julia Schmidt

When I was hired as a student guide, I remember questioning my ability to represent Canada on such an important stage. That was, until I arrived in France and underwent in-depth historical training sessions.

As trainees, we visited countless grave sites and war memorials, learning everything from how battles were planned and the types of equipment used, to personal stories of soldiers who loved, fought and sacrificed. Through it all, one key message from Major Reverend Doctor Tom Hamilton, a historian and our teacher from the Department of History and Heritage with the Department of National Defence, stuck with me. He reminded us that we were becoming, “guardians of remembrance and the voices of heroes”.

As my connection grew, so did my confidence as a guide and my desire to impress upon others the importance of our history.

While I still questioned whether I could do these words justice, I soon realized that the more time I spent on the sites and heard the stories of battle, the more I felt connected to these places. As my connection grew, so did my confidence as a guide and my desire to impress upon others the importance of our history. My mission became to have every visitor leave the site feeling the same amount of respect and appreciation that I had for it.

Walking on grounds marred by historical battles and under skies that had seen such tragedy felt sacred to me, from my first day in May until my last day in August. There was never a morning that I did not feel the weight of all that had occurred there when I stepped on the sites. It lingered on my site walks, during my tours, and in every visitor interaction – which was the most impactful aspect of working as a guide.

Whether in conversation by the monument or guiding visitors through the tunnels, I found myself in a state of continuous learning while on the job. It’s one thing to have the history of a battle recounted to you through academic literature, but it’s another thing entirely to hear first or second hand accounts from Veterans or their loved ones.

As a guide, I learned that I always had a part to play in a visitor’s story. I could help find a missing piece in someone’s detailed research, I could explain the site’s entire history to someone hearing it for the very first time, or I could listen to the stories they brought with them. No matter what role I filled, I was equally engaged in enriching visitors’ experiences.

Whether in conversation by the monument or guiding tourists through the tunnels, I found myself in a state of continuous learning while on the job.

One of my favourite visitor interactions was with a former guide who participated in the program in 2005. Karyn Bélanger-Sherman returned to the Canadian National Vimy Memorial for the first time in 19 years, family in tow. As I guided Karyn and her family on a tour, I found myself taking in her stories. Hearing her speak so fondly about her time as a guide reassured me that I was not alone in my rather emotional experience there. It was still just as meaningful to her now as it was when she wore the guide uniform.

The opportunity to be a guide was an experience that altered my perspective and is one that will stick with me for the rest of my life. Interacting with so many visitors every day reminded me that remembrance does not come with prerequisites. Whether Canadian or not, whether previously informed or not, taking the time to visit the sites and honour those who sacrificed for our freedom is the most meaningful history lesson of all.

Julia Schmidt studies Commerce, specializing in accounting, at the University of Ottawa. Originally from Ottawa, Ontario, she worked at the Canadian National Vimy Memorial and the Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial as a student guide from May to August 2024.