This may be something of a long post, for those who want to skip.
My grandfather joined the Canadian army in 1940, shortly after Britain (and Canada, a few days later) declared war on Nazi Germany following the invasion of Poland. After training for 'home defense' in Newfoundland, he volunteered to 'go active' - to join the volunteer forces that would go overseas. (Canada didn't start conscription until late 1944, and few conscripts hit the front lines).
On June 6th, 1944, Canadian soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Division, First Canadian Army, launched their assault on Juno Beach in Normandy. My Grandfather was in the follow up assault that pushed inland later that day.
From that day until the end of the war, he lived an existence that I cannot comprehend. He took part in the battle of the Falaise Pocket, the Battle of the Scheldt, and the liberation of Holland. He saw friends die, came close to death himself - at one point, a German grenade landed within feet of him...only to be a dud.
He witnessed the bravery of Dutch civilians, who sometimes led Canadian assault boats through the mazes of canals in Holland, in attacks on heavily armed German positions. He witnessed the jubilation of starving people, who welcomed Allied food aid in the famine under German occupation.
When the war ended, he volunteered to join the Canadian Army Occupation force, and served there until late 1946, when he was finally rotated home.
My father only heard him speak of the war two times: one of those times was to a man who complained bitterly of his service in the home defense forces, while he had been overseas. The second was when I interviewed him as part of a project in High School. With only a couple questions he told me everything he remembered of the war - including a memorable experience in the Parisian subway system, a novelty to a country boy from rural Ontario. He remarked on his sympathy with the German people, who he could not blame for their subjugation under Nazi rule.
He died on Christmas Eve a few years ago.
My generation, on the whole, is in danger of losing their connection with those time - with the sacrifices demanded of entire countries, of families, and of individuals. Many of my classmates learned about it in school, watched the movies, and moved on. My own connection is tenuous - but I have tried all I can to learn about the wars in which we have fought. I feel the need to understand, in the hopes that I can learn from it - and remember.