DIEPPE, France - The stony beach at Dieppe, once littered with Canadian dead and the refuse of war, was strewn with red roses Saturday, in a final tribute from elderly survivors of the failed Aug. 19, 1942, Allied assault on this northern French port.
The beach, the tightly-packed brick buildings and the familiar chalk bluffs brought back a tide of memories for the old soldiers, some of whom cried openly or choked back tears as they recalled the carnage of that day.
A handful of veterans were in the midst of a weekend-long pilgrimage that marks the 65th anniversary of the attack. It is expected to be the last formal gathering of those who fought the desperate, pitch battle with German troops.
"Every military guy that's ever been here was just stunned at the fact we attempted to run up that beach,'' said Joe Ryan, a former member of Toronto's Royal Regiment of Canada. "That was the worst part of the whole raid. That beach was a killing ground.''
After dropping his flower at the crest of the beach, Paul Dumaine, formerly of Les Fusiliers Mont Royal, walked almost to the spot where a lifetime ago a chunk of shrapnel nicked his skull, leaving him bleeding and senseless on the ground.
"The tide was red with blood,'' he said in French, pointing to the spot where a close friend, who only poked his head above the beach slope, had been machine-gunned to death.
The amphibious raid by a combined force of some 5,000 Canadian and 1,000 British troops, along with about 50 U.S. rangers, ended disastrously, with two thirds of them either killed, wounded or captured.
Of the 4,965 Canadians, 913 -- most of them soldiers but including some sailors and pilots -- lost their lives in frontal assault on the heavily fortified town. Another 600 were wounded and an additional 1,950 surrendered and faced nearly three years in German captivity.
Right from the start the raid, which was meant to test German defences and then withdraw to England, went disastrously wrong. Counting on total surprise, the Canadians hit the beach to discover the enemy was prepared for them and the Allies barely got past the shoreline in most instances.
Although often described as a dress rehearsal for later victorious landings in North Africa, Sicily and the Normandy D-Day invasion, historians and soldiers have long debated whether the raid was necessary.
The first in a series of tributes and memorials was held Saturday in Dieppe itself and in nearby Puys, a hamlet nestled among the cliffs just to the east. The main service was planned for Sunday.
Among those paying her respects was Sister Agnes-Marie Valois, often described as the "Angel of Rouen.'' A nurse at the Hotel Dieu hospital in the nearby town, she risked her life to care for wounded Canadian prisoners.
Many of the South Saskatchewan Regiment veterans, who landed in nearby Pourrville, recognized her, as she did them.
"When I saw them, I gave them kisses,'' she said.
The failure of the mission weighed heavily on the men, said Valois, a diminutive 93-year-old who gently banged her cane on the pavement to emphasize her words.
"It's been 65 years, but they talk about how upset they were not (being) able to do anything because they were so injured,'' she said.
"When I met them at the hospital they felt bad because they were here to liberate France.''
That burning desire to rescue her country from Nazis occupation won her heart and inspires her devotion to them and Canadians in general, even today.
Valois was harassed and even roughed up by the Germans because she had three Canadians -- all 18-year-olds who died on the operating table -- buried at their monastery.
As his tour bus lumbered atop the bluffs, Ryan, who'd been "nicked in the leg'' on that warm summer day, recalled being marched as a prisoner of war along the same leafy road. The memory still vivid in his mind, he said the often-fired German guns at Puys gave off wisps of steam as he and his fellow soldiers passed.
Later, at a cemetery just outside of Dieppe, he came upon the grave of a close friend and radio operator, Pte. Rollie Ward.
Lying on the beach in the teeth of withering machine-gun fire, Ryan said he thought his buddy was joking around when he wouldn't move. Rolling him over, Ward's ashen colour made it clear he was dead.
The hardest part, years later, was meeting Ward's mother, who refused to believe Ryan's eyewitness account.
"I could never really convince her he was dead,'' he said after gently patting Ward's headstone in a tender tribute.
Edouard Caline, who was 18 in 1942, owns a house that overlooks the Esplande, a grassy, open boulevard that, during the raid, the Germans swept with mortar and machine-gun fire, effectively confining Canadians to the beach. Although living in nearby Abbeville during the war, he said he remembers the raid because of the fierce Allied bombing runs that preceded the attack.
The ranks of veterans and French civilians who remember the battle are getting thinner every year, he said.
Caline also expressed disappointment that only a few dozen townsfolk showed up to applaud the Canadians at the first tribute Saturday morning.
His frustration was shared by Suzanne Sonier, who took refuge with her husband in the basement of her Dieppe home during the fierce fighting.
"We cannot forget,'' said Sonier, 87.
"It was cruel -- all of these young men being shot by the Germans. I never want to see this happen again. Our children are alive today; we had children; we had families because of their contribution and that must never be forgotten.''
At a ceremony in front of the monument at Puys, a group of school children gave the veterans a short, but touching personal tribute.
"Merci,'' they cried as some of the old men fought back tears.
