EvanL
06-06-2004, 05:30 PM
Canadian veterans praise, mourn wartime buddies as they recall D-Day battles
Sun Jun 6, 1:11 PM ET
KEVIN WARD
COURSEULLES-SUR-MER, France (CP) - Bud Peto regularly returns to Juno Beach, but for his buddy Lloyd Kenyon, the 60th anniversary was the first time he had set foot on the sand since he saw Canadian soldiers he served with killed or wounded here on D-Day.
For Kenyon, it's likely his last visit.
"This may be a real highlight and that's it," he said in an interview Sunday as he and Peto sipped from cans of beer at a reception after returning to the beach with hundreds of other veterans.
"I would probably like to remember this one here. I may never be back again."
This weekend is considered the last great commemoration of D-Day as the veterans, most of them now in their 80s, reach the point where travel becomes more difficult.
Peto noted that a regular D-Day dinner in Toronto that the two men normally would attend has been cancelled in the last two years because there aren't enough veterans left to hold it.
Kenyon and Peto were both 22-year-old lieutenants in the Royal Canadian Engineers on D-Day. They were friends then and have remained so ever since.
They landed with the second wave of the infantry shortly after the first wave hit the beach.
Peto came onto the beach at Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer and began clearing landmines, but he and his men came under fire from a sniper.
"He was firing from about 300 or 400 yards (metres), but he didn't hit anybody and I said, "Let's pull back and he'll lose interest' - which is what happened," Peto said.
"When a bullet whistles by you and it hits a stone wall just to the right of you with a loud clank, you know what's happening."
Kenyon landed down the coast at the next village, Bernieres-sur-Mer.
"Fire concentrates the mind," said Kenyon. "It's got all your attention."
Both men consider themselves lucky to have made it back to Canada.
"Better to be lucky than smart, don't be in the wrong place at the wrong time," said Kenyon. "We were lucky."
Returning to Normandy has sometimes been emotional for him, especially his visit to the Canadian War Cemetery at Beny-sur-Mer on Saturday.
"I found my platoon sergeant, who I lost on D-Day, up there," Kenyon said. "It was touching."
The veterans' return to Juno Beach is a memory that will stay with Kenyon. "Having us go down to the beach was a really nice touch for the veterans."
For Peto, a regular visitor to Normandy, the outpouring of gratitude from French citizens reminded him of the welcome Canadian veterans have always received whenever they go back to Holland to celebrate its liberation.
"I think one of the things that stuck out was the number of French people who came up and shook hands."
"They see this here," he said, motioning to his war medals, "and they'd stop you and they'd want to shake hands."
Other Canadian D-Day veterans also spent the weekend sharing personal stories of bloodshed and bravery.
Ted O'Halloran of Toronto, who was among the first wave of soldiers to hit the beach on D-Day, remembered the difficulty they had in bringing the landing craft to shore in the stormy waters of the English Channel.
"It was so rough, you know, and we were just bouncing up and down, guys were still sick on the landing craft, they were bringing up," he said Sunday. "They were glad to get off the boat."
Once on the beach, the goal was to get off the strip of sand as quickly as possible to avoid sniper fire - even if it meant leaving injured buddies behind.
"We had orders not to help anybody because we too would be killed. So we just ran up onto the seawall, over the seawall and into the town," he said.
Donald Mills of the Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa recalled a similar experience as a Bren gun carrier near him hit a mine, killing three men and trapping two others.
"You couldn't stop, you had to keep going," said Mills, who was 22 on D-Day. "You were taught: don't stop and hold up the next guy. Get going."
Mills' unit moved 11 kilometres inland, the best progress among the Canadians that day.
"We went quite a way and didn't fire a shot, but in the days after we did," said Mills, who lives in Englehart, Ont.
Returning to the beach on the 60th anniversary was an emotional experience for Mills, but it was one he could joke about. He said Normandy was much more welcoming this time.
"It was nice, friendly," he said with a laugh.
Sun Jun 6, 1:11 PM ET
KEVIN WARD
COURSEULLES-SUR-MER, France (CP) - Bud Peto regularly returns to Juno Beach, but for his buddy Lloyd Kenyon, the 60th anniversary was the first time he had set foot on the sand since he saw Canadian soldiers he served with killed or wounded here on D-Day.
For Kenyon, it's likely his last visit.
"This may be a real highlight and that's it," he said in an interview Sunday as he and Peto sipped from cans of beer at a reception after returning to the beach with hundreds of other veterans.
"I would probably like to remember this one here. I may never be back again."
This weekend is considered the last great commemoration of D-Day as the veterans, most of them now in their 80s, reach the point where travel becomes more difficult.
Peto noted that a regular D-Day dinner in Toronto that the two men normally would attend has been cancelled in the last two years because there aren't enough veterans left to hold it.
Kenyon and Peto were both 22-year-old lieutenants in the Royal Canadian Engineers on D-Day. They were friends then and have remained so ever since.
They landed with the second wave of the infantry shortly after the first wave hit the beach.
Peto came onto the beach at Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer and began clearing landmines, but he and his men came under fire from a sniper.
"He was firing from about 300 or 400 yards (metres), but he didn't hit anybody and I said, "Let's pull back and he'll lose interest' - which is what happened," Peto said.
"When a bullet whistles by you and it hits a stone wall just to the right of you with a loud clank, you know what's happening."
Kenyon landed down the coast at the next village, Bernieres-sur-Mer.
"Fire concentrates the mind," said Kenyon. "It's got all your attention."
Both men consider themselves lucky to have made it back to Canada.
"Better to be lucky than smart, don't be in the wrong place at the wrong time," said Kenyon. "We were lucky."
Returning to Normandy has sometimes been emotional for him, especially his visit to the Canadian War Cemetery at Beny-sur-Mer on Saturday.
"I found my platoon sergeant, who I lost on D-Day, up there," Kenyon said. "It was touching."
The veterans' return to Juno Beach is a memory that will stay with Kenyon. "Having us go down to the beach was a really nice touch for the veterans."
For Peto, a regular visitor to Normandy, the outpouring of gratitude from French citizens reminded him of the welcome Canadian veterans have always received whenever they go back to Holland to celebrate its liberation.
"I think one of the things that stuck out was the number of French people who came up and shook hands."
"They see this here," he said, motioning to his war medals, "and they'd stop you and they'd want to shake hands."
Other Canadian D-Day veterans also spent the weekend sharing personal stories of bloodshed and bravery.
Ted O'Halloran of Toronto, who was among the first wave of soldiers to hit the beach on D-Day, remembered the difficulty they had in bringing the landing craft to shore in the stormy waters of the English Channel.
"It was so rough, you know, and we were just bouncing up and down, guys were still sick on the landing craft, they were bringing up," he said Sunday. "They were glad to get off the boat."
Once on the beach, the goal was to get off the strip of sand as quickly as possible to avoid sniper fire - even if it meant leaving injured buddies behind.
"We had orders not to help anybody because we too would be killed. So we just ran up onto the seawall, over the seawall and into the town," he said.
Donald Mills of the Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa recalled a similar experience as a Bren gun carrier near him hit a mine, killing three men and trapping two others.
"You couldn't stop, you had to keep going," said Mills, who was 22 on D-Day. "You were taught: don't stop and hold up the next guy. Get going."
Mills' unit moved 11 kilometres inland, the best progress among the Canadians that day.
"We went quite a way and didn't fire a shot, but in the days after we did," said Mills, who lives in Englehart, Ont.
Returning to the beach on the 60th anniversary was an emotional experience for Mills, but it was one he could joke about. He said Normandy was much more welcoming this time.
"It was nice, friendly," he said with a laugh.