Commentary
Summer is waning, and with it another season of Canada’s traditional Ceremonial Guard.
Thousands have seen the striking soldiers in red tunics and tall bearskin caps who, supported by a brass band and pipes and drums, “Change the Guard” on Parliament Hill. And quite often, a young Canadian in the audience is inspired and says: “I want to be a soldier.”
Imagine a small but proud new country—let’s call it “Canada.” It has a rather desolate little capital containing a few dignified buildings, but otherwise lacks all colour, pageantry, and panache. It’s a bloodless, rather grey, bureaucratic town.
That was Ottawa on June 5, 1872, when Thomas Ross, an imaginative civil servant, wrote to Sir George Cartier, the minister of militia.
“The absence of Queen’s troops at the Capital,” Ross wrote, “and the great blank caused by the lack of military music at the Government House, etc., induce me to hope that the Minister of Militia will be enabled to grant my request.”
Government House is the proper name for Rideau Hall, the official residence of the Canadian monarch—and, in the latter’s absence, the residence of the governor general, who represents the King.
Ross was the second-highest-paid official after his superior, John Mortimer Courtney, the deputy minister of finance.
But as Major Ross, he was also an enthusiastic part-time soldier. He had risen from the junior ranks in the artillery in Quebec City, capital of the old Province of Canada, where he’d worked as a young clerk since he was 18.
Ottawa was then a backwater known as Bytown, home to mill owners, lumbermen, and assorted ruffians who, one day—July 1, 1867—woke up in the capital of a new country, the Dominion of Canada.
“Sir, I have the honour to submit to you,” Ross advised Cartier, “the propriety of raising, in this city, a Volunteer Force of Infantry, to be called ‘The Governor General’s Guards’ … whose services would be at the disposal of the Government on all occasions of State.”
These troops were not to be hidden away at some remote depot. They were meant to be seen.
“I would suggest that, as near as possible,” Ross urged, “the battalion be clothed similar to the Household Troops in England.”
He was referring to the well-known guards at Buckingham Palace. There, as in all countries, “pomp and circumstance” lend dignity and prestige to state occasions. They also help attract new talent to the all-important armed services.
Sir George Cartier approved the proposal on June 7.
“This corps to be special,” Cartier replied, “and under the direct orders of the Adjutant General.” They were “to have the same precedence and status in the Active Militia as is held by Her Majesty’s Foot Guards in the Imperial Army.”
Ross took personal responsibility, saying, “I am prepared to carry into effect this proposition.” In recognition, he was appointed lieutenant-colonel and the first commanding officer.
And thus a great Canadian symbol was born, the Governor General’s Foot Guards, or GGFG.
Band rehearsals were held in the “Band Room” of East Block of Parliament weekly from 7:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m., while officers met after hours on Thursdays in Ross’s private office.
The East Block, completed in 1865, was then actually the nerve centre of the Dominion government. The governor general, prime minister, and other senior figures all worked there.
The GGFG’s first public appearance was for the State Opening of Parliament on March 5 and 6, 1873.
Today, the Ceremonial Guard is made up of soldiers from two old city regiments: the GGFG in Ottawa and the Canadian Grenadier Guards, based in Montreal. Together they form the Canadian Brigade of Guards.
These young men and women typically have full-time jobs or studies while also serving part-time in the military—a great way to gain experience, earn money, and build a strong network for the future. It’s possible to complete post-secondary studies debt-free.
“Changing the Guard” usually takes place on Parliament Hill every morning from late June through late August, but for two COVID years the parade was cancelled.
In 2023, the guards are back—except this year they are ordered to post a few sentries only at Rideau Hall, while a small band plays each morning on the Hill. In fact, the guards are symbolic in more ways than one. While there are normally 250 soldiers and 150 musicians on the Hill, this year there are only 40 soldiers at the House and 80 musicians on the Hill.
Those tiny numbers reflect the massive numerical and skills crisis across the entire Canadian Armed Forces (CAF).
Apart from those who retire or quit (and an inordinate number unfit for deployment), the CAF is short a staggering 16,000 full-time and part-time personnel. Many of the missing are among junior leadership without whom it’s impossible to train new recruits.
For the troops, Ceremonial Guard is hard work in the heat of summer. But it sustains a powerful symbol: The Crown stands for the protection of our country from outside threats and for law, order, and liberty within. Being the King’s subjects means we are entitled to liberty and protection under the Crown, while in turn, we citizens are willing to defend our country when called upon. The Guards embody that personal service for all Canadians.
Many people are attracted by the noble ideal of service, difficult training, networking, acquiring management skills, and a bit of sharp drill—in spite of the CAF’s inept advertising and recruiting policies.
Next time you see reservists in your town, thank them. They work and study full-time while also serving in the military part-time. As the great Sir Winston Churchill said, a reservist is “twice the citizen.”
