Burdett Sisler, the oldest known living person in Canada and a veteran of the Second World War, died on April 2 at the age of 110. He passed away at a retirement residence in Fort Erie, Ontario, just two weeks shy of reaching his 111th birthday. His death represents more than the passing of a single supercentenarian. It marks the rapid, inevitable closing of a living window into the defining global conflict of the twentieth century. According to federal estimates, fewer than 3,700 Canadian veterans of that war remain alive, a number that shrinks by the day.
Sisler was a man who famously told reporters that the secret to reaching 110 was merely to stay alive. That dry wit masked a life that spanned the full arc of modern Canadian history.
From the Chemical Trials to the Peace Bridge
Born in Akron, Ohio, on April 14, 1915, Sisler moved to the Toronto area with his family when he was just three years old. His father had been transferred to work at a newly opened rubber factory during an era when the mass production of the automobile was actively reshaping the North American economy.
He married his wife, Mae, in 1939, just three days after Britain declared war on Germany. When he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Army in 1943, the reality of the conflict was absolute. Believing he might not return from overseas, the couple decided to have a child so Mae would have a piece of him left behind.
His military career did not follow the standard infantry narrative. He originally wanted to join the air force, but an assessment determined he had one bad eye. Instead of flying, he served his country through technical and experimental means.
While waiting for basic training, Sisler volunteered for chemical warfare trials in Ottawa. These were not benign exercises. The military was testing how mustard gas would react to a protective salve placed on human skin over a fourteen-day period. Thousands of soldiers who participated in these biological and chemical experiments across the Allied nations ended up with severe, chronic health problems. Sisler survived the ordeal and later participated in a class-action lawsuit against the Department of National Defence, securing a settlement for the risks he was forced to assume.
He later trained as a radar technician and telecommunications mechanic, eventually becoming a sergeant in the Corps of Royal Canadian Electrical Mechanical Engineers. Because the war ended before he could be deployed overseas, he spent the immediate postwar era examining military equipment returning from the European theatre.
Upon returning to civilian life, he settled in Fort Erie and took a job as a customs appraiser with the Canada Border Services Agency at the Peace Bridge. He held that position for thirty years, ultimately spending more time in retirement than he ever spent in the workforce.
The Vanishing Generation
The death of a supercentenarian veteran shines a harsh light on a demographic reality that policymakers and historians have been tracking for years. We are losing the human library of the 1940s.
When historical memory transitions from living recollection to archival record, the societal understanding of an event changes. Veterans act as a cultural anchor. Their presence at local legions, on television broadcasts, and in school assemblies provides a visceral connection to the past that textbooks cannot replicate.
The numbers tell a stark story. At the peak of the conflict, more than one million Canadians served in uniform out of a total national population of just over eleven million. Today, the survivors are scattered, most in their late nineties or well past the century mark.
We are entering a period where the Second World War will belong entirely to the historians. This transition usually triggers a shift in how society views its own history. Without living witnesses to correct the record or offer nuance, public memory tends to become more romanticized or, conversely, entirely forgotten.
A Century of Radical Change
To understand the span of Sisler's life is to understand the acceleration of the modern world. He lived long enough to witness two global pandemics, two world wars, and the complete transformation of human communication.
In his later years, he expressed a distinct sense of alienation regarding how the world had developed. He noted that the world used to be a sensible place but had become a landscape where people seemed to think only of themselves and money. It is a common sentiment among centenarians who recall a high-trust society forged by common sacrifice.
His personal habits were famously simple. He never cared for the taste of cigarettes. He liked a cold beer after mowing the lawn. He bowled well into his 100s and lived independently in his own home until he was 107 years old.
The federal government and the Governor General issued the standard respectful communiques upon his passing, praising his service and his role in shaping the country. Yet the true legacy of men like Sisler lies not in political statements, but in the massive, quiet generational shift their departure represents. The living link to the greatest conflict in human history is nearly severed, and the responsibility of remembering is about to fall entirely on those who were not there.
