“You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have
striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and
prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you… We will accept
nothing less than full victory!” Yikes.
Talk about pressure.
You may recognize these words, or at least the occasion that prompted
them. They were spoken on the eve of June 6, 1944 by Supreme Allied Commander
Dwight D. Eisenhower as he sent hundreds of thousands of soldiers across the
English Channel to Normandy, France to launch the largest amphibious assault in
history. That event, Operation Overlord, culminated in the ultimate liberation of
Europe from Nazi Germany. We know of it as D-Day.
I decided to include a detour to Normandy during my upcoming trip to
visit my daughter in Paris. I hoped she’d want to come too. Whether it was a
burning desire to experience first-hand the bloodied battlegrounds of history or
the fact that the trip was on someone else’s euro, she was all in. Laptop in
hand, Belle sprang into action to book us an airbnb, but where? I admit to some
particular preferences when it comes to international travel. I’m up for almost
any adventure—as long as it has the Rick Steves seal of approval.
My soft spot for Rick is no secret.
His travel guides are fun to read, easy to follow, and bursting with helpful tips,
maps, walking tours, itineraries, and places to eat, sleep, and be merry. Don’t
even get me started on his downloadable audio tours.
I beelined to the travel section
of the library and grabbed “Rick Steves France 2017.”
Rick raves about the romantic
port of Honfleur renowned for its history, picturesque harbor, and “unusual
luminosity.” I was sold; Belle wasn’t buying it. Taking her friends’ advice,
she proposed the small seaside resort of Etrétat. I caved, but only because Rick
also approved.
Etrétat did not disappoint. Steps
from our cozy accommodations I stood on the exact spot where Monet painted numerous
seascapes of the dramatic scene directly opposite, a reproduction of which was
there on display.
We started our sightseeing in Arromanches, part of Gold Beach in the
British landing zone, with the 360 degree surround-sound film, “Normandy’s 100
Days.” Head swiveling, I tried to take in all the archival footage and
photographs of German and Allied soldiers in battle and the joy on the faces of
the townspeople welcoming their liberators. I was blinking back tears by the
end.
Our next stop, at Rick’s
suggestion, was the Germany gun battery at Longues-sur-Mer. We wandered around
the massive pillboxes, their iron hooks for securing camouflage netting still intact.
In the observation bunker by the water I tried not to eavesdrop too
conspicuously on a private tour. One tidbit I couldn’t help overhear: an Allied
bomb had fortuitously struck the underground telephone wire, cutting off
communication between the look-out and the gunners who were then forced to rely
on their own inferior aim. I love hearing stuff like that. Next time I might
splurge and hire my own guide; Rick recommends several.
By late afternoon we reached Omaha Beach, the site of the first American
D-Day landing so powerfully portrayed in Spielberg’s “Saving Private Ryan.”
Remember the opening scene, with Tom Hanks and his terrified men scrambling to shore
while trying to avoid being slaughtered?
At the American Cemetery in Normandy, a pilgrimage site for both veterans
and history buffs, we walked on manicured Kentucky bluegrass among endless rows
of white marble gravestones. At the bluff overlooking the bleak and deserted
Omaha Beach, we followed the haunting notes of a trumpet back to the cemetery. Everyone
stood still as the two American flags were lowered, listening in silence to the
final strains of taps.
Traipsing around bunkers and
beaches all day takes its toll, so we went in search of fortification. I
consulted Rick, who steered us to a 10th century farm offering cider
and Calvados tastings. Or he tried to, anyway; it was closed until April.
There are dozens of D-Day museums, monuments, and memorials open to the
public. We saw only a handful. Because dusk was approaching we missed out on
another moving site—the Pointe du Hoc Monument, where highly trained U.S. Army
Rangers scaled an impossibly sheer cliff face to take out the Germany gun
battery. Next time.
Chilled and emotionally spent, we headed
back. We made it to Honfleur after all, ending the day at one of the harborside
bistros under the welcome warmth of a heat lamp.
If traveling 3,000 miles across the Atlantic isn’t convenient, you can
experience this slice of history vicariously at the library. For historical
fiction fans, “The Nightingale” by Kristin Hannah and Anthony Doerr’s “All the
Light We Cannot See” are two compelling accounts of the French Resistance and
life under German occupation. Another page-turner just published is “The
Baker’s Secret” by Stephen Kiernan, a wonderful story of the resilience of the
human spirit set in a Normandy village on the eve of D-Day. My all-time
favorite World War II saga, however, is Herman Wouk’s “The Winds of War,”
featuring a combination of real and fictional characters connected to the
family of Victor “Pug” Henry, a naval office and confidant of President
Roosevelt, and its sequel, “War and Remembrance.”
For non-fiction devotees, Dan Van Der Vat’s “D-Day: the Greatest
Invasion, a People’s History” is my top pick. Beautifully illustrated, it
contains hundreds of color and black and white photographs as well as paintings
by war artists and never-before-published eyewitness accounts. It’s fascinating.
Another colorfully illustrated military history I liked, because it doesn’t
read like one, is “D-Day: June 6, 1944” by Richard Collier. He opens—and I will
close--with this poem from an anonymous author:
TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF D-DAY
Went the day well?
We died and never knew.
But, well or ill,
Freedom, we died for you.
