As the morning sun streaked through the arched windows of Ottawa’s War Museum, 98-year-old James Wilkins adjusted his navy blue blazer adorned with medals. His weathered hands rested on a walking cane that seemed more ceremonial than necessary, given the straight-backed posture he maintained throughout our conversation.
“We didn’t think we were doing anything special,” Wilkins told me, his voice clear despite his years. “We were just boys doing what needed doing.”
This week marks 80 years since Canadian forces stormed Juno Beach during the D-Day landings, a pivotal moment that helped secure Allied victory in World War II. The dwindling community of veterans who witnessed those historic events firsthand gathered in commemorative events across the country, their ranks thinning but their memories still sharp.
Statistics Canada estimates fewer than 20,000 WWII veterans remain alive in Canada today, with an average age over 95. For many Canadians born in the decades since, these elders represent living connections to a defining chapter in our national story.
“I was terrified, make no mistake,” said Margaret Collins, 97, who served as a wireless operator with the Women’s Royal Canadian Naval Service. “But fear wasn’t something we had the luxury to dwell on. There was always work to be done.”
Collins, who traveled from Halifax for the anniversary events, recalled the moment she learned the war had ended. “I was monitoring transmissions when the news broke. The room erupted. But even in our celebration, we knew so many wouldn’t be coming home.”
Veterans Affairs Canada has documented that more than 45,000 Canadians lost their lives during the conflict, with thousands more returning with physical and psychological wounds. The national commemorations this week acknowledge both the victory secured and the tremendous sacrifice it required.
For younger generations, these anniversaries provide rare opportunities to hear firsthand accounts from those who lived through global conflict. At a community college event in Toronto, students recorded interviews with veterans as part of an oral history project aimed at preserving these memories beyond the living generation.
“What strikes me most is how matter-of-fact they are about extraordinary circumstances,” said Professor Emily Zhao, who coordinates the project. “There’s a humility there that feels increasingly rare in our social media age.”
Back in Ottawa, Defense Minister Anita Anand met with veterans at Parliament Hill, emphasizing Canada’s ongoing commitment to those who served. “The freedoms we enjoy today were secured by the courage and sacrifice of these individuals and their fallen comrades,” she stated during the ceremony.
For some veterans, these commemorations bring complicated emotions. Robert Mackenzie, 96, who served with the Royal Canadian Air Force, expressed concern about how history is being remembered.
“I worry sometimes that it’s becoming just another story,” he said, looking across the museum where schoolchildren examined display cases of wartime artifacts. “It wasn’t a movie or a video game. It was mud and blood and saying goodbye to friends who never came home.”
Canadian Legion branches nationwide have organized community events combining remembrance with education. In Winnipeg, local schools partnered with the Legion to create art installations based on veterans’ stories, while in Vancouver, a harbor-front ceremony included naval vessels and a flyover honoring maritime contributions to the Allied effort.
The anniversary has also prompted reflection on how Canada’s wartime experience shaped our national identity and international standing. Historian Margaret MacMillan of the University of Toronto points to the post-war period as transformative for Canada’s place in the world.
“Canada emerged from the war with new confidence and capability,” MacMillan explained during a CBC panel discussion. “Our contributions earned us a seat at international tables where decisions were made. That diplomatic inheritance continues to benefit Canadians today.”
For communities across the country, the anniversary has become an occasion to examine local connections to the global conflict. Museums in smaller centers have unveiled special exhibitions highlighting hometown contributions, while municipal archives have digitized wartime records to make them accessible to researchers and descendants.
As evening fell on the first day of commemorations, I watched Wilkins and other veterans gather for a private dinner. Their conversation flowed easily between serious reflection and surprising humor, occasionally punctuated by memories so specific they could only be shared by those who lived them.
“We’re not heroes,” Wilkins insisted before parting. “The heroes are the ones who didn’t come back. We’re just the lucky ones who got to live the lives they missed.”
As Canada marks this 80th anniversary, these firsthand accounts become increasingly precious. With each passing year, fewer veterans remain to tell their stories directly. Their testimonies—sometimes reluctant, often humble, always powerful—provide Canadians with something history books alone cannot: the human dimension of extraordinary times.
What remains after the commemorative ceremonies end is the responsibility to carry these memories forward, ensuring that future generations understand not just the dates and battlefield tactics, but the lived reality of ordinary Canadians who found themselves participants in world-changing events.
