Honoring a Fallen Hero: The Journey to Remembering Uncle George

On National Indigenous Peoples Day, I feel a deep need to honor one of my family’s own—my Great Great Uncle, George Evelyn Greenwood.

My hometown of Sherwood Park, nestled close to Edmonton, Alberta, was a modest place when I was growing up. Raised by my great-grandparents, Elizabeth and Leslie Greenwood, I often heard stories about Leslie’s younger brother, George—whom they affectionately called "Chubby." I remember thinking the name was amusing because, in the few photos I saw, he was slim and anything but “chubby.” His nickname hinted at an endearing family humor, connecting us to him even across the years.

 According to my Great Grandfather Leslie, Uncle George was known for his quirky sense of fun, energy, and a touch of shyness. Growing up, I only knew that he had served in the war and had not come back. His body, I was told, was never found. It seemed he had disappeared into history, like so many others. But little did I know then how close his memory would come to me years later.

In recent years, I’ve become something of an ancestry buff, often losing myself down research rabbit holes. On February 5, 2023, I received a message that would change everything. A man in England had reached out to me. He was researching my uncle and managing a Facebook group that honored soldiers lost in his region. Of course, I couldn’t resist; my curiosity was hooked. Soon, I was helping him find details about George and the men who served alongside him in the Royal Canadian Air Force 407 Squadron.

We learned about Hamish Gordon Collins, Robert Grant Fowlie, Philip Stanley Grindley, Joseph Charles Harrison, and Arthur Clarke McNabb—comrades who, like George, had made the ultimate sacrifice. Together, we unearthed old photos, newspaper clippings, and small but meaningful artifacts of their lives. As we dug deeper, however, I made an astonishing discovery. Contrary to what I’d been told all my life, George’s body had been found. He had not disappeared without a trace. Instead, he lies at rest in the Cherbourg Old Communal Cemetery, Plot 6, Row E, Grave 7. I was overwhelmed with happiness, knowing he had a place, a resting spot to call his own.

Delving into his story inspired me to consider his heritage. I knew our family had Métis roots, and I began to wonder if George’s sacrifice had yet been recognized by his people. I contacted the Métis Nation of Alberta, sharing my research and connecting them with my friend in England. They confirmed what I had suspected: George was indeed Métis, and plans were set in motion to add his name to the Veterans Monument at Métis Crossing. This small act—knowing that his name would be honored among his Métis brothers and sisters—filled me with pride.

Uncle George, like so many others, served bravely, fighting against tyranny, for a free world and a future he would never see. I like to think he is now remembered not only as a soldier but as a beloved member of our community, whose legacy lives on both in our hearts and in history. Today, I look up to the sky with a smile and a heart full of gratitude for his sacrifice, and I feel deeply blessed to be able to share his story with you.

Written by Serena Pawluk, reviewed and approved by my English friend, Graham Moore.