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Published: June 29th 2013
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Juno Beach, Port-en-Bassine. Another drive of an hour and a bit toward the northeast took us to the American memorial site at Omaha Beach. While it would have been interesting to see this site, time was limited and we would be pushed to get to Juno Beach.
Over the last few days we had discussed our intention of making this tangent to the Trafalgar tour with our fellow Canadian travellers. To our delight, they decided to make the journey with us. We were honoured to have them along.
Cindy had organized a five-passenger taxi to take us to Juno and from there to the Canadian War Grave site at Beny-Sur-Mer. Somehow we were all able to squeeze into this little wheelbarrow and our driver, Jerome – not the same guy as on the bus - took us over to the Canadian Memorial at Juno Beach, near the village of Bernieres-sur-Mer.
The site features an ominous, original gun emplacement which, with other instruments from hell, rained a hail of bullets and shrapnel on the young men who stormed the beach in this place. The beach itself was probably 50 yards or more deep, consisting
today of soft sand and active surf. Picturing it 69 years ago, with anti-tank gadgets, barbed-wire and other complications adding challenges for these soldiers carrying 50 or more pounds of gear on their back, brought tears to one's eyes. A terrible number of those men never made it onto the beach, let alone across it. Linda’s 23 year-old Uncle Clifford Jackson was one of this number.
We made a short tour of the pavilion that has been erected on the site. It featured two museums, a gift/souvenir shop and some statuary. It was clean and respectful but, and I don’t say it to criticize, not really impressive.
We spent a quick half-hour on Juno Beach then joined the taxi again for the run to Beny-sur-Mer (Jerome insisted that it was Reviers.) Linda’s brother had done some research on his Uncle and had sent us a plan of the Canadian War Cemetery. With this in hand we easily located Clifford Jackson's gravestone marker in Row 1.
Clifford’s grave, as with the entire cemetery, was clean and as neat and tidy as you would hope. We hadn’t thought to bring anything special to mark our visit
to the site, but I had a Canadian flag lapel pin that I always wear when travelling, and so we wedged it into a seam in the carved Maple Leaf on the stele, hoping we were not violating any protocols.
Standing in this place, at the rear of the cemetery, gazing out over two thousand and forty-nine gravestones, filled me with a profound sense of sadness. It was soon replaced with a sense of anger, because we do not seem to have learned a blessed thing.
Jerome returned us to our hotel, the Mercure Hotel Omaha Beach, which is situated on the Omaha Beach Golf Club grounds, for a mediocre meal of pork enlivened with apple schnapps
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