Preserving the stories behind the uniforms

Tucked away north of town is a growing private museum that quietly holds more than a century of military history and thousands of stories that might otherwise be forgotten.

Built around an extensive personal collection of uniforms, artifacts, weapons, letters, and memorabilia, the museum is the life’s work of a McLean Welsh, local historian and collector whose fascination with war history began long before the first display case was assembled.

“I grew up loving stories of heroes,” said Welsh, everything from Hollywood war films to the real-life stories passed down around his own family. His grandfather flew bomber missions over Germany during the Second World War. His father, meanwhile, lived what he describes as a far more Jeremiah Johnson esque life, hunting, fishing and exploring throughout the Americas.

Taken together, those stories along with his own adventures and what he calls an “unavoidable predisposition for history” sparked a curiosity that never really went away.

Welsh collected artifacts off and on from a young age, but it wasn’t until years later, after attending gunsmithing school in Quebec and restoring antique firearms like muskets, that things really shifted. Around 2015, he said a simple realization changed everything.

“The stuff you see in museums is actually out there,” he explains. “You can just buy it.”

Once that sank in, the direction of his collecting was set. “That discovery changed my life and the rest as they say is history”, he says.

One of the earliest pieces that truly hooked him was a Korean War–era Royal Canadian Navy uniform, complete with medal ribbons and a service number stitched inside. Researching the man who wore it became just as important as owning the artifact itself, and that approach has defined his collection ever since.

“What continues to amaze me is that the information is out there,” he says. “The stories are incredible, but they’re scattered and hidden in archives, old books, letters, and sometimes even handwritten inside a uniform collar.”

Today, the collection spans conflicts from 19th-century colonial wars through to the modern War on Terror. More than 100 uniforms, dozens of pieces of headgear, and countless smaller artifacts fill storage and display areas, waiting for the museum’s next phase of construction to be completed.

When the museum was last fully set up, it filled five rooms and featured more than 100 uniforms, dozens of helmets and caps, and had 35 display cases crowded with the kind of details you don’t usually see twice.

But the museum isn’t about numbers, it’s about the stories.

As a teenager, Welsh said he had hoped to serve in the Canadian Armed Forces and attempted to enlist in the Reserves at 16, but medical reasons ended that path before it began, sending him down what he describes as a long and sometimes bumpy road. Eventually, it became clear that his way of serving would be through preservation.

“My goal is to dig through the archives, discover their stories, their service, their families, their memories, and present them for people to read,” he says. “So long as we remember them, they will live forever.”

Several items in his collection belonged to his grandfather, who served with the Royal Canadian Corps of Signals during the Second World War and later became a well-known and respected figure in Fort St. John.

“The war was something he rarely spoke about” said Welsh, and on the few occasions it did come up, the reason was simple. When asked why he didn’t wear his medals to Remembrance Day, he replied, “Because I don’t want to remember.”

Another cherished piece is an RCAF officer’s wedge cap worn by his grandfather who flew 39 combat missions. The cap was carried on every flight, tucked behind the pilot’s seat for luck after flak shattered the cockpit glass on an early mission. The name still written inside makes it more than an artifact, it’s a witness.

The collection also has ties to the Peace Region beyond family history. The museum is actively working with contacts in the United States to acquire items connected to U.S. Army units stationed in the North during the Second World War while building the Alaska Highway.

New artifacts come from a worldwide network of collectors, historians, and veterans’ families, many of them connected through social media. Others turn up closer to home, discovered in small shops, garage sales, or quiet corners of online marketplaces.

Looking ahead, the museum will open by appointment once construction is complete, typically on weekends. Outdoor trenches on the property are also planned for use by local cadet groups for training and educational activities.

The hope, especially for younger visitors, is simple.

“I hope they remember,” he says. “Remember those who fought and those who died. Remember that peace is fragile. War never really changes and we’re the only ones who can stop it from happening again.”

In the end, the museum isn’t really about uniforms or weapons at all. It’s about people, men and women from different countries, cultures, and eras whose lives were shaped by circumstances far bigger than themselves.

As he puts it, “So long as we remember them, they will live forever.” And for now, their stories sit quietly in the museum, waiting for someone to stop, read, and remember.