By Greg Scott May 5, 2025
Canada’s Triumph in the Netherlands, 1945
The final spring of the Second World War broke cold and hungry across the Netherlands. Cities lay hollow, fields lay flooded, and the bellies of Dutch children grumbled with the bitterness of what became known as the “Hunger Winter.” Then came the Canadians — resolute, mud-soaked, and far from home. They arrived not just with rifles and ration tins, but with something far more potent: hope.
On the fifth of May, 1945, Canadian forces, under the command of General Charles Foulkes and in negotiation with German General Blaskowitz, accepted the surrender of German forces in the Netherlands. That day marked the culmination of months of bitter combat, a campaign now enshrined in Canadian and Dutch memory as an act of profound liberation.
The 1st Canadian Army had shouldered the lion’s share of the Allied operations in the Netherlands from late 1944 into the spring of 1945. It was no accident of war or arbitrary theatre assignment that Canada was entrusted with the liberation of the Dutch. Rather, as military historian Tim Cook argues, “Canada had become a trusted middle-power. Its soldiers had gained a reputation for unyielding professionalism and, crucially, humanity in occupation” (Cook & Braaten, 2021, Canadian Military History).
Canada’s war effort had grown from its tiny prewar military to a force of nearly a million in uniform by 1945. With British and American attention largely focused on driving into Germany, Canada was tasked with clearing the Scheldt Estuary to open the port of Antwerp and later liberating northern Holland. What followed was months of hard slogging: fighting through flooded fields, dodging sniper fire, and encountering fierce German resistance.
But the military feat is only half the story. For the Dutch, the Canadians became more than liberators. They were saviours. In cities like Groningen, Arnhem, and Wageningen, the sight of maple-leaf shoulder flashes brought spontaneous tears, cheers, and a surge of tulips — a now-symbolic flower of gratitude. In 1945, the Dutch Royal Family sent 100,000 tulip bulbs to Canada. The gift was not ceremonial fluff; it was a gesture born of deep, raw gratitude. Each year since, tulips bloom in Ottawa’s beds as a living reminder of that spring.
This May, in 2025, we commemorate 80 years since that liberation. Aging veterans—some now centenarians—have made the journey once more across the Atlantic. Their numbers have diminished, but their presence looms larger than ever. In Apeldoorn, the veterans’ parade rolls past crowds of schoolchildren waving Dutch and Canadian flags. For some, the journey is not only personal—it’s sacred.
“Every time we return,” said 99-year-old veteran Bill Anderson, “it’s like coming home to a family you never knew you had.” He paused. “Except they never forgot us.”
Historian Tim Cook writes poignantly on the deep emotional connection forged between Canadians and the Dutch: “The bonds formed during liberation endure not only because of the acts of bravery, but because of the decency shown after the guns fell silent” (Canadian War Museum, 2020). Indeed, Canadian soldiers were not merely occupiers of a freed nation; they were participants in its resurrection. They helped deliver food, rebuild bridges, and nurse civilians.
For Canadians today, the question looms: what do we owe those who liberated the Netherlands?
We owe them remembrance, yes. But more than that—we owe them a civic legacy. These were young men, many still in their teens and twenties, who crossed an ocean to fight a tyrant and, in doing so, planted a permanent flag of Canadian identity abroad. As William Manchester once wrote of his own generation, “They came, these young men, not for glory, but because it was the right thing to do.” The same can be said of our veterans.
The celebrations this week across the Netherlands—and in cities like Ottawa and Vancouver—remind us that this act of remembrance is not only international, it is deeply intergenerational. Dutch schoolchildren adopt graves of Canadian soldiers; Canadian schoolchildren learn their names. We remember not merely the moment of liberation, but the continuing echoes of that freedom.
This year, Historica Canada and the Royal Canadian Legion coordinated transatlantic storytelling projects. Veterans like George MacDonell, who fought in Groningen, shared live with students. “We were kids,” he told them, “and what we did changed history.”
It did. And the Dutch have not forgotten. In the words of Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte, “Without the Canadians, our freedom would not have come when it did. We owe them our lives, and we honour their memory.”
References:
- Cook, T., & Braaten, B. (2021). The Stories Behind “Forever Changed”. Canadian Military History, 30(1). https://scholars.wlu.ca/cmh/vol30/iss1/3/
- Littlewood, T. (2024). Public Commemorations and Personal Memories: Canadian Commemoration of the Second World War. University of Guelph. https://atrium.lib.uoguelph.ca/items/84061d40-eb9e-4912-8352-610f8e1edeef
- Luther, M.J. (2023). A Story of Resilience and Survival: Canadian Soldier Harold Luther’s Letters Home During the Second World War. University of Calgary. https://prism.ucalgary.ca/items/e3b2b290-aeef-4239-b08c-5982ce3c01ae
- Tennyson, B.D. (2014). Canada’s Great War, 1914–1918: How Canada Helped Save the British Empire and Became a North American Nation. Google Books
- Cook, T. (2006). Clio’s Warriors: Canadian Historians and the Writing of the World Wars. Vancouver: UBC Press.
