Canada's Governor General Michaëlle Jean dances with Lorne Duquette, from Mistawasis First Nation in Saskatchewan, during her visit yesterday at the Juno Beach Centre in Courseulles-sur-Mer, France. (CP/Andrew Vaughan)

Governor General Jean joins
dancers in D-Day town
Nunavut stone caps Inukshuk set in Normandy

COURSEULLES-SUR-MER, FRANCE -- Pte. Leo Goulet has a hard time harkening back to June 6, 1944, when he and the rest of his fellow Winnipeg Rifles left the relative safety of their landing barge and stormed Juno Beach on D-Day.

"So many things happened to me when we landed 61 years ago," Goulet said, as he stood on the same shores and took in the now calm, gently lapping waves and stretch of sand strewn with nothing but seaweed.

"There were dead soldiers here and there, some floating, some dry. It's all like a big dream, or nightmare, I should say."

Yesterday, Goulet, 81, found himself reliving that day again and again -- for youths, the media, cultural performers and fellow veterans -- during this stop on a pilgrimage to honour the aboriginal contribution to World Wars I and II.

Goulet, a Métis who lives with his wife on the Atikameg First Nation in northern Alberta, was one of two veterans on the trip who were part of the first wave of Canadian D-Day troops to land at Normandy's Juno Beach.

George Horse, of the Thunder Child First Nation in north-western Saskatchewan, hit the shore even before Goulet as part of the Royal Canadian Engineers, who were sent in to clear whatever German anti-mine obstacles had been missed by allied air attacks.

"It was tough," said Horse, 86. "We were wide open. The Jerries were up on the hill firing at us, but we just kept going ahead."

Two events held yesterday reflected the emotion of the tour, called an aboriginal spiritual journey, in different ways.

During a remembrance service at nearby Bény-sur-Mer Canadian War Cemetery, a Métis fiddle lament, an Inuit throat song and a First Nations honour dance added unique touches to the traditional wreath laying and playing of the Last Post.

Governor General Michaëlle Jean, Veterans Affairs Minister Albina Guarnieri and officials from various levels of French government all paid tribute to the contribution aboriginals made to the world wars -- attention several veterans say has been too long coming.

"I'm grateful to be recognized," said Horse, who recently lost a great-grandson who fought as a U.S. Marine in Iraq. "It's a good feeling to see some of my friends."

Veterans Affairs estimates about 4,000 aboriginals enlisted for World War II. At least 33 of them rest among the 2,048 Canadians buried in the cemetery.

After the service, several veterans searched for familiar names among the rows of identical headstones.

Horse, wearing a large feather headdress with his standard issue veteran's jacket and medals, touched an eagle staff to a grave marker.

Howard Anderson was clearly delighted to find the grave of his nephew, K.W. Pratt, who was killed on D-Day.

"It's the best thing that's happened in a long time," said Anderson, from the Gordon First Nation in Saskatchewan.

Later in the day, lively performances by Métis, Inuit and First Nations entertainers brought most of the cheering veterans to their feet during a ceremony to unveil an Inukshuk.

Such stone structures play different roles for Arctic peoples; they can warn of danger, mark a place of respect or direct travellers and hunters. Some mimic the human form.

Inuit elder Peter Irniq built the rock monument, leaving a window of light to link the graves of fallen warriors in Europe with their family and friends in Canada.

Most of the stones came from a quarry in Normandy. But Irniq, from Repulse Bay, Nunavut, brought the stone he placed on top from his home territory.

Jean wrapped up her two-day visit with the veterans, her first foreign trip as governor general, on a light-heartened note.

As she said her goodbyes to the performers gathered on stage, she wound up dancing and laughing and in no apparent hurry to get in her car and leave.

Veterans Affairs is funding the $1.5-million trip, but it was organized by various aboriginal groups and elders.

Some expressed frustration that the three streams of the trip -- ceremonies of remembrance, cultural performances and a four-day calling-home ceremony, with elders to return to Canada the spirits of fallen soldiers -- have seldom merged.

But many say they do appreciate deeply this first chance to honour their fallen comrades in their own way.

Goulet, who was a prisoner of war for more than 10 months after his captain surrendered three days after D-Day, said he has never harboured ill feelings about the fact he was classified as a French-Canadian instead of a Métis, despite not speaking a word of French.

His years of military training, combined with the bonds forged by 10 months as a prisoner of war with about 75 members of his regiment, taught Goulet about the ties that matter.

"I was just another soldier, fighting for his country."