Normandy: 6 June, 2008 - D-Day

The train ride out to the coast of Normandy took ~2 hours from the Paris main station, and I wanted to get out there before noon so as to miss the afternoon heat. I was incredibly pumped for this day, the anniversary of the Allied invasion of Fortress Europe, 64 years to the date. This was the reason why I had pushed myself to get from Barcelona to Paris by June 3rd. I had wanted to do this more than anything else in Europe, and I was doing it. Ecstatic does not even begin to describe the feeling I had as I got off the train at the Bayeux station.

I did not know exactly how far I was from the beach, but as soon as I got out of the station there was a little bed & breakfast across the street. It was the only building within sight, and it had people going in and out of it, so I figured it would be as good a place as any to ask for some directions. I walked in and immediately smelled the morning waft of eggs and bacon, and my stomach began growling ferociously. I decided a little breakfast was in order, and promptly ordered a croquette. A croquette (and I’m not talking about the game with the wickets, clay balls, and hammer mallets) is a grilled cheese sandwich with an additional slice of cheese melted over the top of it. Indeed, this proved to be a better French delicacy than crepes. I inquired as to where Omaha Beach was, and I was told that a tour would be beginning in about an hour and a half. I enquired more, and for 37 Euro I would be shuttled by van around the entire beachhead complex, which included an inspection of the German bunker lines and artillery placements overlooking the beaches, a tour of the D-Day museum, a visit to the American cemetery, a walk along Omaha Beach itself, and finally, to round it off, a trip up to Pointe du Hoc. For 37 Euro, it wasn’t a bad deal, especially given that the entire beach complex was much more than a person could tackle on foot in one afternoon, even by bicycle it would be a stretch.

While I waited for the tour to begin I took a stroll into town to find a post office and to pick up a souvenir. Along the way I did stop into a store to get a few postcards and the old man behind the desk asked me where I was from, and when I told him I was from America, he beamed a great big smile at me, and welcomed me to Bayeux on this most momentous day. I was very touched by his candor, as he was the first Frenchman I had encountered who did not have a negative opinion of Americans. As I’ve already stated the Parisians are particularly prickly towards Americans, but here in Bayeux I felt nothing but love from the locals. It was good that, even 60 years and a few generations later, there were still people here who appreciated what America had done for them in WWII. I had begun to question whether the past was quickly becoming irrelevant as the GI Generation began to die off, but no, it was still alive and well here, and that brought me great comfort. I found the post office and mailed my postcards, receiving beaming, stellar service from the postal workers there (again, I nonchalantly played the American card and basked in the good feelings). Outside of the church I found a nice looking church, and I wandered back to the bed and breakfast to meet my tour group. Here is the church:

The first stop was the D-Day museum in the middle of town. It was here that we were given entrance to a collection of war memorabilia, exclusive maps and charts, and an educational movie depicting the sheer engineering masterpiece that became the artificial port built by the Allies in first few days following the invasion. Because the other port cities in France were well defended and even rigged for explosion should they risk capture, the Army Corp. of Engineers built massive pontoons in England in which to make a man-made dock extend from the beachhead about half a mile into the channel so that tanks, trucks, and supplies could be offloaded. This was all done, mind you, under enemy fire as the Battle of Normandy raged. I cannot offer any real specifics as to the entire operation, but the sheer magnitude of the task combined with the perilous conditions in which it was undertaken was outstanding. I left the museum theater in awe of what was accomplished, and it would not be the last time I felt that. Outside the museum was an artillery piece on display, and I decided to take a fun picture with it:


The next stop was the German bunker fortifications that looked out over the Allied beach landings. It was here that artillery pieces were placed to shell the troops making the amphibious assault. These bunkers were supposed to have been bombed the night prior to the invasion, but poor visibility and intelligence led to the structures being left largely unscathed. A few of the artillery pieces were still left intact, and Mike and I decided to have a little more fun with the guns. Here are a few pictures of the German bunkers and artillery:



Following the German bunker line we went to the American cemetery. It was here that almost 10,000 American soldiers were buried following the successful invasion of Normandy. There were also many casualties from the other Allies who took part in D-Day, but the Americans by far bore the brunt of the battle. For me, it was incredibly humbling to be walking amongst the field of crosses. Each one of these guys gave their lives for the freedom of democracy without hindrance or question. It was here that the true believers were laid to rest, having passed the ultimate litmus test of patriotism for one‘s country. I was overcome with a feeling of gratitude that I did not know how to express. I had already made a point to thank, personally, every active-duty or veteran I ever met, in particular my friends and comrades in or out of the service, but even those simple words don’t seem to suffice. To me there are no greater heroes than these. Bless them all, each and every one.


The memorial was adorned with a beautiful statue, and on either side were the battle plans, one for the invasion of Normandy, the other for the overall struggle in the W. European theater. Here are a few pictures from the American cemetery at Normandy:


After paying my respects, I headed back to the tour van, and we headed down to Omaha Beach. It was here that the Allies made their biggest push, and thus suffered the most casualties. On the beach there was a memorial that had been erected shortly after the war, and another one behind it that had been erected on the 60th anniversary. Here they are, respectively:


I walked down to the beach and took a few panoramic shots of the beach, first from the beach wall, and then from the water’s edge. Looking back up at the bluffs, I could not believe what I was seeing. Before me was a good 200 yards of completely open, exposed beach. The movie Saving Private Ryan did this beach justice, as the opening scene depicted squads of men tucked behind beach barricades trying to stay out of the line of German machine gun and sniper fire. It was 200 yards to the beach wall, and even then the bluffs still overlooked these positions. The thought that went through my mind was “How in the hell did they pull this off?” Absolutely amazing what the Allies accomplished on this beach. This is Omaha Beach:


The final place the tour went was Pointe du Hoc. This point on top of a hill was supposed to be a major German battery that had to be taken by Rangers on D-Day. The catch was that they had to climb up cliffs, in the face of German gunfire, to disable the guns at the top. Unfortunately, due to poor intelligence and a last minute decision by the German High Command, the guns had been removed and placed in the rear. The Rangers still climbed the cliffs and held off a German counterattack for almost 3 days before being relieved by forces that had eventually fought their way off the beachheads. Because this was sacred ground, the area had been preserved, craters and all. There were bombed out bunkers and artillery holes everywhere, making the ground looked like a pockmarked landscape. Here is Pointe du Hoc:


And for good measure, here's me with a gun there:


The tour wrapped up by 5 o’clock, and it was time to take the train back to Paris. On the way back, I tried to take into account all that I had just seen, and found myself in a state of awe and bewilderment. The accomplishments made on D-Day and the subsequent Battle of Normandy were above and beyond anything I could comprehend. What the Allies accomplished in Normandy was the near impossible, and will probably go down as the riskiest, most daring military maneuver in history. The thought, I believed, was fitting, as Americans are generally risk-takers, willing to bet it all on high stakes to make it big. We American revel in the thrill of risk, and cast our chances with fate more than any other people on the planet. This gave me some great resolve, having just seen that such behavior can reap incredible rewards, and the spoils of America’s daring were not just the defeat of fascism and the triumph of democracy, but its ascendance to the pinnacle of greatness, to become the most powerful nation in the history of mankind. On this day, more than any other, I never felt more proud to call myself an American.