I went to the Normandy beaches in 1998. It was a whim, but it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I remember visiting the Mont Saint-Michel, one of France's most visited tourist sites and pouring over a map as I had lunch. I realized I was quite close to the D-Day landing sites. I bought a train ticket to the town of Bayeux that very day. I knew nothing about the town, I only knew that it is about 5 miles or so from Omaha Beach. I had a compulsion, a need to see it. It was more than mere curiosity, I felt an obligation to pay my respects.
It's a harrowing place. There are ghosts there, you sense it. I remember taking a walk to the bluff that overlooks Omaha Beach and thinking, "How in the hell did anyone make it up that beach alive?" It is a perfect defensible position. The bluff is a good 50 to 100 feet higher than the beach. There are still the carcasses of German pillboxes dotted throughout the length of the beach. I could imagine the chatter of machine gun fire, mowing wave after wave of men down as they came up the beach. The scope of the slaughter is unimaginable, until you visit the American Military Cemetery nearby. Nearly 10,000 graves and a wall of names commemorating over 1,500 missing soldiers, whose bodies were never found.
So on this the anniversary of D-Day, I take a moment to think about how fortunate I am. How lucky I am to live in a time of relative peace and how thankful I am to the generation that looked death in the face and didn't falter. Thank a WWII vet the next time you see one. They're numbers are dwindling, but I for one will never forget what they did for all of humanity and neither should you.
No comments:
Post a Comment