Before we begin, let me properly introduce my guest.

Lieutenant-General Omer Lavoie, CMM, MSC, CD. Retired 2021 after 37 years of service.

Started as a private soldier, 1983. Rifle platoon commander — Oka Crisis, 1990. Battle group ops officer — Kosovo. Commanding officer, 1 RCR Battle Group — Kandahar, 2006. Operation Medusa. The most intense sustained combat Canadian troops have faced since the Korean War.

His citation: "led from the front, sharing the dangers and harsh living conditions of his troops."

General Lavoie, it's an honor. Thank you for joining me.

Let's start with a moment you lived.

September 1st, 1990. Oka, Quebec.

[Share Oka photograph — full screen]

A nineteen-year-old soldier stares down a masked protester. Cameras everywhere. Tension everywhere. One wrong move and people die.

This photograph became iconic. You were there. Rifle platoon commander. 78-day standoff. No clear enemy. No clear win. Just sustained tension.

What did you see that this photograph doesn't capture?

That's what this conversation is about. What happens behind the photographs. Behind the ceremonies. Behind the heroic images.

This is Barney's Tavern. A museum tavern in my garage, named after my grandfather who served in World War II.

I'm Chris LaBossiere. And this is a conversation about leadership, sacrifice, and what it costs to carry both.

That photograph. Private Patrick Cloutier staring down a protester. It became iconic. Cloutier became a hero. But you were there, commanding under that same pressure.

What's NOT in that photograph? What was it like on the ground?

Here's what happened to Patrick Cloutier after that photograph.

Two years later: cocaine use, demotion, 45 days in military prison.

One year after that: drunk driving conviction, discharge from the Canadian Forces.

He'd served in Bosnia. Friends from his unit died by suicide.

The hero in the photograph... struggled.

I want to show you something.

This is the Memorial Cross of Private Stephen McDermott Fowles. Twenty years old. 1918. Passchendaele.

He tried to desert. His reason: "I wanted to get to Paris to get married."

His battalion commander recommended death. Canada executed him six days before his 21st birthday.

We know now he had shell shock. What we'd call PTSD today.

In 1918 they called it cowardice. In 1990, Cloutier struggled. Today we understand trauma better.

Have we actually gotten better at helping soldiers carry weight? Or are we just calling it by different names?

August 2006. You're no longer a rifle platoon commander.

You're Lieutenant-Colonel Omer Lavoie. You command the 1 RCR Battle Group in Kandahar Province. Operation Medusa. Most intense sustained combat Canadian troops have faced since the Korean War.

What changed between being a platoon commander at Oka and a battle group commander in Afghanistan?

September 2nd, 2006. Panjwaii District. Taliban everywhere. You have to make a decision you know might get people killed.

Take me inside that moment. How do you make that call?

Four Canadian soldiers were killed under your command in Operation Medusa. Mark Graham, a former Olympian, killed by friendly fire.

Do you carry that? Or does a leader have to let it go to keep functioning?

Let's go to Afghanistan. 2006. You're Lieutenant-Colonel Lavoie, commanding the 1 RCR Battle Group in Kandahar Province during Operation Medusa. The decisions you're making now aren't about keeping soldiers steady at a perimeter — they're about sending people into situations where they may not come back.

You operated your entire career within a clear framework — rules of engagement, international law, the laws of armed conflict. That framework isn't bureaucracy. It's the moral architecture that separates a professional soldier from something else entirely.

This week, the United States Secretary of Defense publicly declared that enemies in the current conflict in the Middle East will receive "no quarter."

Declaring no quarter — meaning you will not take prisoners, you will execute those who surrender or are incapacitated — has been a war crime under international law since the Hague Convention of 1899. It is explicitly listed as a war crime under the Rome Statute of the ICC. It is prohibited in the United States military's own doctrine.

It was said openly. By the civilian who commands the most powerful military in human history.

You've commanded soldiers from general right down to the private who follows the order at the end of the chain.

When the civilian at the top of that chain publicly announces an intent that is — by the laws those soldiers swore to uphold — a war crime, what happens inside that institution? What is the obligation of the commander? And what is the obligation of the soldier at the end of the line?

October 14th, 2006. Pashmul, Afghanistan. You commanded the battle group that day.

Private Jess Larochelle held an observation post while severely wounded. Saved his platoon. You witnessed it. Awarded the Star of Military Valour — Canada's second-highest honour.

You've said publicly he deserves the Victoria Cross. The government disagrees. Why does this matter to you?

Three moments across a century.

Stephen Fowles. Executed for breaking under shell shock.

Patrick Cloutier. Hero in a photograph, struggled afterward.

Jess Larochelle. Extraordinary valour, denied full recognition.

You've led thousands of soldiers through sacrifice most Canadians will never understand.

What do you want people to remember on Remembrance Day — that goes beyond the poppies?

Before I let you go — I looked you up. Your official bio lists your passions as hunting, fishing... and hunting and fishing.

I just want to confirm that a man who commanded thousands of soldiers across three theatres of war is, in retirement, mostly concerned with whether the fish are biting.

General Lavoie, thank you. For your service. For your honesty. For this conversation.

[Picks up Memorial Cross]

Three photographs define this conversation.

Stephen Fowles. 1918. We executed him for breaking.

Patrick Cloutier. 1990. We made him a hero, then forgot him when he struggled.

Jess Larochelle. 2006. We awarded him a medal, but not the one his commander says he earned.

[Places cross down]

In our first episode, Todd Babiak told us about a 21-year-old kid. Lost, angry, trapped in online grievance culture, searching for purpose in all the wrong places. That kid exists. He's watching this right now.

And what General Lavoie just showed us is that there's a path. Not easy. Not without cost. But real.

You can start as a private and build something that matters. You can find leaders who'll help you carry weight you can't carry alone. You can serve something bigger than yourself and come out the other side stronger, not broken.

That's not a recruiting pitch. That's the truth.

[INSERT BEST QUOTE FROM INTERVIEW — add in post]

My grandfather, Barney, came home from World War II. One of the lucky ones. Survived. Thrived.

This space, Barney's Tavern, is named after him. These artifacts — this jeep, this motorcycle, these remnants of war — I collected them to build a place where we can have the conversations he would have wanted us to have. Not about glory. About cost.

When we ask people to serve, we're asking them to carry weight that doesn't go away when the mission ends.

[Look directly at camera]

This is Barney's Tavern. The conversations Canada needs.

I'm Chris LaBossiere.