What I remember, vicariously, through my father’s and mother’s stories…  

Both my parents were Dutch immigrants to Canada in 1960. All my siblings and I were born in Canada. Growing up, we’ve heard many wartime stories (World War II), vividly remembered by mom and dad who were ten and twelve years old when the war ended in 1945, during their formative years. (They married sixteen years later, in Montreal, where dad was enrolled at McGill University.)

They remember the many Canadian soldiers who liberated Nazi occupied Dutch towns like Schijndel (picture taken just after Liberation), where my Mom and Dad were living as young kids. Their two families spent several weeks holed up together in a small cellar (fourteen people, several being toddlers/babies) in my Opa & Oma’s house while the bombs rained down. They were so happy to see their Canadian liberators marching down main street as the Nazi soldiers finally retreated.

Our families will never forget. Nor will the Netherlands. We remember the 7600 brave Canadians who served in the Canadian Forces and died during the Allied Forces efforts to liberate the Netherlands.