The Normandy Beaches

I took a three and a half hour bus ride to the United States of America on Saturday. If that doesn’t interest you enough to read this blog, then don't read it. See if I care.

The same people who took me to that fortified city/giant abbey on that mountain and those castles along that river decided to take me to the beach this past weekend. Wasn’t that swell of them? I thought so anyway.

So for the last time, we loaded the bus at an ungodly hour and drove through the relatively ugly countryside. The Pays de la Loire (the region in which I am staying) has a lot of things, but a pretty landscape is not one of them. It probably didn’t help that we were driving through before the sun rose either. About two and a half hours in, the sun finally came up and the grass turned a vivid green. We made it to Normandy, the agriculturally and bovinely rich region of France known for two things: its cheese (Camembert is really good, go ahead and try some) and its role in World War Two. We went for the latter, but don’t underestimate the importance of that cheese.

First up on this tour of tours was the Mémorial de Caen, musée pour la Paix, a museum dedicated to the Second World War and, more specifically, D-Day (in French: le Jour J) and the role Normandy played in the Allies’ successful push through France. The museum was really well done. It walked through the end of World War One and all the events that lead to D-Day and beyond. Unfortunately, it was not as photographic as some other museums. So that is sad for you.

Quick history overview (terribly brief version): By 1944, Hitler and the Germans occupied most of northern France. The war was, by this time, four (almost 5) years old. Hitler’s push in the east toward Russia a year before had failed. A successful Allied attack in France would likely turn the tide of war in their favor. On June 6, 1944, D-Day, the largest military invasion (by sea) in history, commenced. Somewhere around 175,000 Allied troops crossed the English Channel and invaded Normandy in not so favorable conditions (e.g. a fully armed German army spanning the coast and bad weather). Tens of thousand of soldiers (from both sides) would be killed in the coming days, weeks, and months. However, the mission was successful and the war eventually ended.

Full disclosure: I know embarrassingly little about World War Two. I know even less about World War Two as fought in Europe (Pear Harbor is about the extent of my knowledge if only because the movie). D-Day was something of a mystery to me until this weekend (I haven’t even seen “Saving Private Ryan”). I learned a lot this weekend. Perhaps more than I bargained for.

After about two hours at the museum, a nicely done movie about D-Day and the Battle of Normandy, and a free lunch, we got back on the bus and, thirty minutes later, we were in America.

After the war, the French were so grateful to the Allies, especially America, that they gave us a nice piece of land on which sits the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. Technically speaking, the land is American territory. Want proof?

The signs are in English and then French. It is nice to be back.

The grounds are beautiful and kept impeccably well (thanks to your tax dollars) as they should be. The cemetery houses the graves of around 10,000 American soldiers who gave their lives to save France from Nazi Germany and, ultimately, end the war.

The number of tombstones is humbling. All of them lined up in perfect, seemingly endless rows (Arlington National Cemetary style).

Many of them were crosses. Like this one.

Some of them were stars of David.

Some of them looked like this.

"Here rests in honored glory a comrade in arms known but to God"

I did notice all of the crosses or stars face the west, looking towards the U.S. Towards home.

The cemetery sits on a cliff, overlooking Omaha Beach (the codename of this stretch of coast on D-Day).

More than a few of the men buried here died right on that beach. Possibly right where I’m standing. That, friends, is a powerful and moving realization.

The cemetery also has a nice chapel right in the middle and a memorial near the front.

Now, I’m sure some sculptor worked really hard on the sculpture that is, no doubt, symbolic of one thing or another. To me, however, it looks like a statue of a guy in mid-service at a volleyball game. Nevertheless, the memorial is well done, complete with a giant wall on which is inscribed the names of those soldiers whose final resting place “is know only to God.”

I’ve never been prouder to be an American.

After that moving visit, we made our way to Omaha Beach.

Today, it is a peaceful beach. Sandy shores, blue water, the sound of the ocean. It is hard to picture that Tuesday morning when thousands of troops stormed the shore, many of them to their death. It’s hard to picture.

Next, we went to the Point du Hoc. Strategically speaking, this was one of the most important targets on D-Day. Sitting about thirty meters above the shore, it has a pretty perfect view of both Omaha and Utah Beaches (where the American troops were to invade). And hence the problem. A special regiment of Texans was to climb the cliff (with ropes and specially made ladders) and take the point an hour before everything else started. Unfortunately, they landed off course and didn’t make it in time. After traversing the beach and cliff, the other operations had already commenced. Also, it seems the German weapons had previously been moved. No matter, the brave Texans pushed forward, found the weapons they were looking for, and destroyed them. Two days later, when they joined other American forces, only about 90 of the original 225 or so were still fighting.

So, what does it look like now?
It’s a beautiful area. Green grass overlooking the water. And lots of bomb craters. Also, the remnants of the German, concrete-reinforced war structures.
Here’s the view.

War happened here.

And our last stop: the German cemetery.

I was a little confused by this stop at first. Why would we visit the graves of the enemy? It all made sense when I stepped on the grounds.

As black and white as we try and make war seem (especially WW2), the fact is that people die on both sides of the battle line. And it sucks. The German cemetery is roughly the same size as its American counterpart, but it houses the graves of some 21,000 fallen soldiers. What’s more is that like every other soldier (Allied or otherwise), many of them were young (my age and younger). These are the realities of war.

And so, after a physically and emotionally exhausting trip, its time to leave and head back to Angers. I learned a lot of history on this trip. I also learned a lot about war. If you are ever in France, this is a must see. And while you are at it, you can stop and get some of that cheese we were talking about earlier.