Don't forget who gave their lives for our CANADA DAY!


A good percentage of Canada's citizens were not born when World War II took place. They may not be aware that, had the Allied Invasion of Normandy failed, the nuclear bomb would have been used on Germany. The "A" bomb was almost ready when Germany capitulated.

Canadian Land, Sea and Air Forces played a relatively large role in defeating the Axis powers. A very large number of Canadian men and women contributed to the Allied Forces. Many young people died in combat. Those at home also suffered due to separation from loved ones, rationing of goods and the constant fear of receiving an MIA (Missing in Action)or KIA (Killed in Action) telegram, to name just a few worries. 1939 to 1945 were difficult times. We were still the Dominion of Canada and did not have a Canadian Consitution.

On the 6th of June 1969 the 25th Anniversary of D-day was observed at the landing site for the Canadians around Courselles sur Mer, Normandy France. It is now 57 years later and the Veterans numbers are fast dwindling. The 25th Anniversary was both a sad and a happy time. It was a time for the Veterans to reflect and pay their respects to those that fell and a time to meet old Comrades and French citizens not seen since the war.

Two of those veterans of Normandy and myself were stationed with NATO in Germany. Our CO Lt.Col. Rene` Gutknecht asked me to take my civilian car and ferry these two old War-horses to the ceremonies in France; and back afterwards. The two War-horses were RSM Harry Graham and Sgt. Major Art Ledger who, together with myself-a Warrant Officer, were known as the "Three Musketeers."

Without a moment's hesitation we set out, with Art reading a map of Sweden and Harry reading one of Spain, between sips of a fluid I was not allowed to imbibe in. The driver should at least try to find Normandy. They both fancied themselves as "the" co-driver/navigator. They did quite well; a 12-hr. trip took the better part of two days. We breached the Dutch border, thrashed in and out of Belgium three times, and finally broke into France, headed in the wrong direction. Hello, a road sign pointing West to Rouen! After reaching the English Channel we drifted South to Courselles sur Mer. We had arrived!

Courselles was jam packed with Canadian Veterans, Bands, and Dignitaries and assorted locals from inland, who were there to honor the Canadians who had liberated them. We, being somewhat tardy in our arrival, found no rooms closer than Cann, 30-Km inland. Harry espied a comrade he knew from the First Hussars days, Leo Gariepy, who had commanded the first floating (DD) Sherman Tank ashore on D-Day. Leo had bashed through garden walls, hosed down the German HQs with machine gun fire, and generally made a nuisance of himself to the defenders all the way to Cann.

We grabbed Leo and went into a Bistro. Leo on demobilization had gone to work for Shell Oil in Montreal, but was not happy. He returned to Courselles and became the Head of Sewer and Water for the town. (In his words "The Art Carney of the town.")

What we needed were rooms. Leo was sympathetic, but nothing was available except a dump called "Chez Charlotte." Leo warned us that the Fair Charlotte lived with a Captain of Wrecks, salvage for the Royal Navy, who, when not blotto, was heading for a Bistro to get blotto. A more dire warning was if "Capt. Squid" (as we Christened him) and Fair Charlotte were thrashing around on the barroom floor, fighting or otherwise, we were not to disturb them. Eventually they would stop and look after their rare customers.

On arrival at Chez Charlottes, we noticed that it was what the Tour Guide Books would describe as a "Quaint little French Bistro." Canadians would use words like "Dump", "Fly Trap", or "Dive." The cat slept in the basket of bread. The floor rag, dish cloth, sheets and clothing on the line were the same shade of gray. The mattresses look like Napoleon's horse had slept in them the night before. Amazingly enough, the food was quite good. We avoided the Chicken, as Leo had told us "Lady Charlotte" often forgot to remove the guts. Wonder of wonders, Capt. Squid bought us a drink and did not "interfere" with Charlotte while we were there. Charlotte may once have been a beauty, but time and wine had taken its toll. When we saw her, she could have fit right into a French Film, as one of the Crones at the base of the Guillotine, screaming "Off with their heads!"

The next day we attended the ceremonies at the Landing Site and the Canadian War Cemetery. One saw the Veterans, in their late forties, overcome with emotion. At the Cemetery one saw the names on the Grave markers of 18 and 19-year-old boys. There were a few up around 25 years, but very few older. One's heart cried out for their souls. This and many other gravesites in France, Belgium and Holland are actually deeded to Canada. On every one, including WWI sites, there is a Canadian Maple Leaf on each headstone. The Name Rank, Number, Regiment and Religion (Christian Cross, Star of David, Muslim Crescent etc.) are engraved on the marker. Some are Unknown Soldiers and simply say "Known Only To God."

Art and Harry were both 18 when they came ashore in Normandy. They were Troopers with the 1st Hussars from London Ontario. On completion of the Canadian graveside ceremonies, I ordered them into the car and would not tell them where we were going. I took them to the German War Grave Cemetery, where we walked amongst their graves. There we saw Hans 17 years, Fritz 20, Wolfgang 16 etc. From there we went to the USA Grave Site, and, again, the vast majority were mere boys. What a terrible waste! The survivors of WWII are now dying at a rate of 84 a day. It would be a grand thing on Canada Day to take one of them out to your local celebration. After all, with out them there would be no CANADA DAY.

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I'm going to leave you with a song. It is to the tune "The Streets of Laredo" from an Old Irish ballad "A Trooper cut Down in His Prime." Perhaps on CANADA DAY you might give a thought to the young Canadian men and woman cut down in their prime.

The Normandy Lament

As I was a walking down by Courselles,
It was early one morning down by the sea,
When whom should I meet but many old comrade
Who came back to visit old Normandy.

The Bunkers were silent; the aircraft were quiet,
The sea was a sobbing for the young men who died,
And many a Veteran was there on the seawall
With tears in his eyes as the memories rolled by.

Today as you stand there, you can see that great moment,
The ships of the Armada the fires of hell,
The thump of the bullets, the crash of the cannon,
The screams of the dying the whine of shrapnel.

At Beney sur Mer, up on the hill side,
They're in the maples among their gravestones.
The cream of our nation are buried together,
They lie there in silence as we walk alone.
Two minutes of silence, the volleys are fired,
The tombs are now open and the dead form line,
They walk out among us, all these young fellows,
The pride of our nation cut down in their prime.

Many years have past since they stormed up the beachhead,
We'll always remember the lives that they gave,
The Fathers the brothers, the uncles, the comrades,
To God up in heaven, please watch o'er their graves.

The last post has sounded; the silence is over,
We'll always remember, with honor and pride.
All the young soldiers that gave us our freedom,
All the young soldiers cut down in their prime.


Signed; the Galloping Geezer
Jack C. Downey CD
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