NEWS AND VIEWS

D-Day and remembering Canadian troops' sacrifices

by Dr. Lubomyr Luciuk

The men who stormed Juno Beach on D-Day were not peacekeepers. Nor were those defending Hitler's Fortress Europe.

Our warriors maimed and killed their foes, or were themselves done in. Whichever side you fought for, you battled to survive, to keep buddies safe, to get the job done.

Over 900 Canadian soldiers died, were wounded or were listed as missing in action on June 6, 1944 and in the weeks following, as Allied forces punctured the Atlantic Wall, then pushed inland. Canadian troops fought with distinction for almost another year, finally liberating Europe from its Nazi yoke, on May 8, 1945, which became known as V-E Day for Victory in Europe.

What the Canadians achieved in Normandy and afterwards should be the story that's told at Canada's Juno Beach Center. It's not.

Unlike the impressive military museum near Omaha Beach, highlighting American contributions to the success of Operation Overlord, the Juno Beach Center is about "discovering Canada." Hundreds of Canadians fell nearby, yet inside the center visitors are barraged with an error-riddled yet politically correct porridge of platitudes demonstrating how nasty a place Canada was before the second world war. That seems a more important message than remembering D-Day, presumably because doing so might "glorify war" or "great men" or "heroes." Another entire gallery is little more than a collective sermon, supposedly submitted by "ordinary Canadians" of every conceivable ethnic, religious and racial heritage, filled with words crafted to reassure passers-by that post-war Canada happily became a multicultural motel, certainly a much nicer society than the Yankees have. American visitors best skip this room. They might forget we were allies, once upon a time.

Unlike the Nazi bunkers the soldiers did manage to get past you can't avoid the center's shopping kiosk. Apparently our troops risked all to ensure future generations a chance to carry away cheap Eskimo art. Is the Canadian identity-deficit so profound that soapstone trinkets constitute our only totems of distinctiveness? Most men on Juno Beach never saw an Inuit, or even knew the word. To stifle such cynicism, the museum's concoctors mounted yet another placard, claiming a million aboriginals populate Canada, an inflation likely designed for some future purpose. Meanwhile, this only confirms that ever-precious European image of "America" as a land of Cowboys and Indians, with the occasional and always benevolent Mountie cantering by.

Why does the military record of 3,000 natives deserve separate treatment? It's no secret - I am a proud Canadian, of Ukrainian heritage. At least 3,000 Ukrainian Canadian volunteers died overseas. Several times more served. Yet no separate exhibit honors them. And none should.

More than once, interviewing a veteran of Ukrainian origin, finding myself tempted to make something of it, I have been bluntly reminded that our boys fought alongside fellow Canadians as equals. That does not ignore the discrimination they suffered, or the even more hurtful allegations about divided loyalties. But, for veterans, such slights matter less than the cause they championed. That goes for native soldiers, too. I won't argue with any man who was there.

Outside the museum, oddly shaped pods bear small nameplates recalling those who fought on "The Longest Day." Families, friends and others paid $250 for this privilege. Regrettably, these rather modest plaques are already exfoliating. They are cheapened further by the others festooned among them, boosterism for this or that city or company.

All the D-Day beaches are bathing shores again, far less ravaged than one anticipates. Hidden amongst the dunes is Canada's Juno Beach Center. It will, and should, have its defenders. Some say it's better than nothing. And certainly the stalwarts who championed this project, whom our federal government originally ignored, bear little blame for what was finally rendered. Rather, those who filled its chambers must be asked why they found prattling on about pluralism more agreeable than portraying patriotism.

As I left, I asked a senior curator if, given how Canada's historic transgressions are underscored, any comparable exhibit exploring Vichy France's collaboration with the occupation is planned. Nope. There is a large Cross of Lorraine nearby, marking the spot where Charles DeGaulle strolled onto this strand, weeks after D-Day. But his singular contribution to Canadian national unity is nowhere recalled. Why? Because, I was told, we can't offend the folks we liberated. The general has passed on but, wherever he is, I hope he heard me mutter: "Vive la Normandie libre!"

Like most Canadians, I salute our veterans, particularly those who have returned to Juno Beach today. We all owe them and join in paying tribute to their fallen comrades. But I feel obliged to be their Kassandra: "Beware of the Juno Beach Center," I warn, "for inside there is little to remind you of why you stormed this beach. Old soldier, go elsewhere to remember what happened on Normandy's once bloody sands. Then weep. Sixty years ago you were victorious. Since then all has been lost."

Lubomyr Luciuk is a professor of political geography at the Royal Military College of Canada.

Copyright © The Ukrainian Weekly, June 6, 2004, No. 23, Vol. LXXII

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