Tuesday
Today was a difficult day. Not for all the obvious reasons that we were being cautioned about: be prepared to be emotionally wrung-out by the end of the day…because you are an American…and D-Day is the “D” in your American emotional DNA.
I was concerned that I would NOT be emotionally affected. That I had become inured to the pain and horror that these sites now represent. Should I have watched Saving Private Ryan‘s opening 15 minutes and let Speilberg align my emotional heartstrings before embarking on this vacation?
Pointe du Hoc between the Omaha and Utah beaches
Our first stop, this site was very interesting. Remnants of German bunkers and shelters littered the cratered landscape. Looking at the bomb craters, now softened and alive with plant growth, the TV show Combat kept popping into my head: black-and-white images of GIs being blown away as the ground exploded.
The strategic location of this site commanding two of the landing beaches was so obvious as we strolled along the cliff’s summit. It was inspirational to learn how the Rangers were challenged first by the physical location; and then, once in place but abandoned by their expected reinforcements, were forced to defend themselves with dwindling munitions while holding their position.
Omaha Beach
We made a stop at the Omaha Beach monument for a group photo and a time to reflect. The beach was expansive. And there was an enormous aluminum sculpture of which each metallic shape thrust into the sky was supposed to represent something.
The American Cemetery above Omaha Beach
A small ceremony was held for and with our Grand Circle compliment. It included the National Anthem, a placement of flowers, a few words from the cemetery overlord before a moment of silence and the playing of Taps.
This little event proved to be the most powerful of the day. As a group, we turned towards the American flags, looking past the reflecting pool to the non-denominational chapel in the distance while a recording of the national anthem (performed with bells) was broadcast over the vastness of the cemetery. It was chillingly beautiful. Tears formed when I realized that the assembled masses throughout the cemetery — young and old alike, American and not — had stopped whatever they were doing and gave their full attention to this heroes’ tribute. The final playing of Taps–the clear, lingering notes of a single bugle filling the air–was even more emotional as it represented the final farewell to these lost men and women.
France: Normandy to Paris 