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Sea
Of Remembering
by
David Cale
On
June 6, 1944, D-day, this beach, between Courseulles to St-Aubin
sur
Mer was newly christened -in blood- Juno Beach.
It was here, that
Canadians
of Toronto's Queen's Own Rifles, Regina Rifles, and Quebec
Chaudiers
among others, jumped into heavy surf and struggled ashore into the
teeth of strong German resistance. Most of the German bunkers had not
been destroyed by the preliminary bombardment, and until they were
"silenced", inflicted heavy losses.
At
the end of the day, "The German dead were littered over the dunes
by
the
gun positions", a Canadian journalist reported. "By them,
lay
Canadians
in bloodstained battledress, in the sand and in the grass, on
the
wire and by the concrete forts. ..They had lived a few minutes of
the
victory they had made. That was all."
Three hundred and forty
Canadians
had given their lives. Another
five hundred and seventy four
had
been wounded. This was
just the beginning. In
the days to come,
Canadians
would see some of the bloodiest fighting of the invasion.
On
this day in Aug. 1999 there was no sign of war except for the
memorials
and a few empty concrete bunkers.
The sky opened and a golden shaft of light fell on the sea. I thought of all the terribly young men who died here, on
both sides, and realized that only those who were here with them could
really remember them. They were old now and soon would be gone as
well, and not even the sea would know them anymore.
The
sky opened spilling
itself
golden into a darkened sea
a
sea of remembering
In
the distance vague figures
running,
running still
hunched,
in antic frenzy
Memories,
memories
of
the once so young, hazy in dreams
just
over the horizon
Golden
smiles and brave waves
with
a look behind their eyes
last
seen in nineteen forty four
The
sky opened spilling
itself
golden onto a darkened sea
a
sea almost forgotten
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