Written on June 6, 2004
Today is the 60th anniversary of D-Day.
Now, I am a historian by avocation and have read a great many books on the subject of World War II. Nearly every book I’ve read refers to June 6, 1944 as either the D-Day invasion, or the invasion of France, or Operation Overlord, or some such. I was taught, in school, about the D-Day invasion. It’s part of American history.
Recently, when I was in France, I went to Normandy and visited some of the landing beaches. I went to the Peace Museum at Caen. I talked to a lot of people from the area, and in some of the local towns around the landing beaches.
Not one of those people used the word “invasion.” Not one.
They used the word “liberation.”
See, we didn’t invade France; we freed it. We saved France from the grip of the Nazis; they were damned happy to see the D-Day forces arrive. Every town along the route of the landing beaches had its own memorial or museum; some of them were very small indeed – but each town pays tribute to the men that risked so much that day. Nearly every town proudly displays a Jeep or a landing craft, hauled out of the water and spiffed up some.
This “invasion” was no surprise. Hitler knew that the Allies would try to liberate France, and he placed Field Marshal Erwin Rommel – The Desert Fox himself – in charge of coastal defenses. Rommel was no fool (Sidebar: I wonder if Patton actually said “Rommel, you magnificent bastard -- I read your book!”) Anyway, Rommel made sure that the coastal defenses were formidable; the bunkers that the Allied troops faced were incredible; small stone homes with tunnels that connected them so that German troops could travel across the coastal defense line in safety.
Hitler and his forces were kept guessing for months as to where the Allies would land. An entire fake army was created (through radio transmissions) across from Pas-de-Calais. (Operation Fortitude; General Patton was the commander of the fictitious force.) Would they land there? Another fake fleet was seen crossing the Channel the night before the invasion. Who knew where they would land? Rommel was on leave on June 6th. Home visiting the family. (heh) Hitler, upon hearing of the invasion itself, didn’t believe it (he thought it was a diversion) and, thank Heaven, did not release troops or materiel in support of the Germans on the beaches.
Unfortunately, though, what the Allies didn’t know was that there was an entire battalion of Germans in the Normandy area for maneuvers. An entire battalion that shouldn’t have been there was waiting to greet the Allied forces. Fully 50 percent of the men who landed at Juno that day were killed. The troops at Omaha had about the same casualty rate but there were more of them overall, so many more died there than at Juno. 10,000 troops in total died that day; Churchill had estimated twice that number of casualties.
At the Peace Museum, there is a fascinating film, about 45 minutes long, that depicts, split-screen, what the Germans were doing to fortify the French coast, at the same time it shows us what the Allies were doing to prepare for D-Day. It’s an amazing film. It’s so well-produced that at times you sort of forget which side you’re rooting for; you watch the Germans build bunkers and plant mines very, very efficiently and you think, man, no one is gonna get past that beach in one piece.
Wait: no one was gonna get past that beach in one piece…
Here’s what the great Ernie Pyle said, about waiting to land in one of the many boats offshore.
“We were in the very vortex of the war – and yet, as we sat there waiting, Lt. Chuck Conick and I played gin rummy in the wardroom and Bing Crosby sang "Sweet Leilani" over the ship's phonograph. Angry shells hitting near us would make heavy thuds as the concussion carried through the water and struck the hull of our ship. But in our wardroom men in gas-impregnated uniforms and wearing lifebelts sat reading Life and listening to the BBC telling us how the war before our eyes was going. But it wasn't like that ashore. No, it wasn't like that ashore.”
As if the horror of what happened on the beaches wasn’t enough, the men who descended on Normandy by air had their own horrors, too. The winds were unpredictable that day, and many men drifted so far away from their designated landing zone that the maps they were given were rendered useless. They landed (if they landed without getting shot by Germans) then gathered themselves and their equipment together and raced for the cover of the nearest hedgerow. They were each issued a child’s toy – a metal “cricket” that makes a loud noise when pushed, like a click-clack noise. The idea was, find cover, wait, and sound your cricket. One click-clack meant, I’m looking for a friend out here. Two meant, advance, friend. So. Guess what sounds exactly like a cricket being pressed twice? A German Mauser rifle being armed. Thus, they survive the drop, find cover, sound their cricket, and come out to the barrel of a Mauser.
Many, many things went wrong that day. But, obviously, many things went right. The Allies held on, and steadily advanced, until they cornered the Germans and finally liberated all of France.
We honored the heroes of D-Day today; many books have been written, many news reports have been filed, many images have been sent from the American Cemetery and the landing beaches. They were all heroes, every one. More than 150,000 men parachuted in or arrived in landing craft, and more than 10,000 of them died, right there on that day. The beaches today look like ordinary beaches. When I was there, there were children playing on them. For a moment, I was horrified; how could they be playing on those beaches? But, that’s life. The men who died there were sent to free the parents and grandparents of those kids, so that there could be French kids on the beaches today, instead of German kids. I took a walk on Omaha, and stood for a long time, and I swear I could see the whole thing. I could see the planes, I could smell the smoke, I could hear the screams; an army rising up out of the sea to take back a country.
I took some of the sand home with me in a film canister.
I was going to apologize for writing a long and perhaps boring email. But I changed my mind. You have to read it, because you have to remember. You have to remember because there are 10,000 American guys buried too far from home who died defending a place they’d never heard of, and they did it proudly and bravely. They were all heroes, every one. I’ve enclosed a photograph of one who didn’t make it home.
I thank him tonight. And all of his buddies, be they American, British, Canadian or Polish.
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