A degree in history, documentaries, first person narratives, war movies, and living in Germany only partially helped me grasp the enormity of the D-Day mission. It took this Memorial Day trip to Normandy to fill the gaps in order for me to better understand what those brave young Americans went through to liberate Europe. Actually being on the beach where these American boys accomplished the impossible left me fueled with such an unexplainable sense of victory and pride in knowing that I’m a small part of this remarkable legacy.Did I ever mention I am a third, consecutive Armed Forces service member?  My mom crossed the pond to visit me in May and I promptly booked a chartered tour with Interra- Reisen for the most meaningful Memorial Day of our lives. Bless her heart, nearly the day after landing in Stuttgart, Mama Belle jumped on a crowed tour bus, still jet-lagged, for this mother-daughter road trip adventure I won’t soon forget.  It was spent not just remembering the heroic acts of bravery that occurred on the shores of France, but understanding all the events that would be known as D-Day.

Day 1:
The bus rolled out at 5:30 am. Mom and I promptly fell asleep until breakfast at a truck stop then back to sleep until we arrived at Giverny, France where the famous French impressionist, Claude Monet spent most of his life. How fabulous to stroll the wild, unruly gardens and the forever immortalized lily-pond that inspired the blinding artist.  What amazed me was that his best works were made as he was practically blind just as Beethoven’s masterpieces were written while he was practically deaf.   Proving any challenge can be overcome if you’re passionate enough to work through it.

The bus continued on the journey towards Normandy, stopping in Cean for the night.  We spent the night in a forgettable roadside hotel similar to a Best Western. It was in a quiet, industrial area of town. There was an unimpressive steakhouse in walking distance. Outside the hotel was also a street car to take visitors in town where there was more lively activity and better selection of restaurants. If you’re saving on money, the outskirts of the town is the way to go. We had such a long exhausting drive and days packed, with a specific adventure that being in the midst the nightlife of Caen was not a priority.

After buffet breakfast in the hotel, we departed.

Biscuits, gravy, pancakes with maple syrup just doesn’t happen in Europe. You do get cold cuts of meat, pastries, and cheese.

Salmon and cheese are also part of the European breakfast but no scrambled eggs and toast.

Our chariot. significant because I have a friend with Monnier as a last name.

The first stop of the day was La Cambe German War Cemetery which contains the remains of 21,000 German military personnel killed between 6 June- 20  Aug 1944.  Outside, an engraved stone states, “Kriegsgräber sind die großen Kommunikatoren des Friedens” or “War graves are the great communicators of peace.”

First noticeable difference of German war graves and American are the shape and color of the crosses.  I think the dark crosses just add to the melancholy of the field whereas the rows of white crosses at American cemeteries are somber but still heroic.

The figures on both sides of the cross are symbolic of the parent who lost their children. Now they are looking over them. Burried in this mound are 296 Germans, only 89 of which are identified by name.

View from the top of the mound.

One German Solider known only to God. This man was likely to by young…around 22-years-old with hopes and dreams that were never fulfilled.  He likely did not chose the cause or to fight but ended up here anyway.  Although he was an adversary, and possibly took American lives, the loss of his life is still heartbreaking.

Here, a 24 year old boy is buried with an unknown counterpart.

Final line: “God has the last word”

Mama in the Garden of peace.

After the short pit stop at the cemetery we journeyed on to the village of Saint Mere Eglise where the Musee Des Troupes Aeroportees (the Airborne Museum) is located. While traveling between locations, we watched The Longest Day to set the tone for what we were about to experience.

History impacts you more when you can relate to it…or when you can see yourself in the stories. I have never been able to identify any element of myself in George Washington in the continental Congress. It is hard for me to envision myself as a heartless ruler like Nero or Christopher Columbus. I cannot relate to the violent gladiator culture pervasive in ancient Rome. But standing on Omaha Beach with my mom at this point in my life, American military history was made real. For the first time, being a beach-storming soldier was relatable.  Just normal young, 20-something-year-old Americans who went through training, bonded with the members of their units, with hopes, and dreams, and were given a task to accomplish were shot and killed where I stood.

 

At 1 am the French night sky filled with 13,000 floating Paratroopers. Could you imagine being in a sleepy, little charming French town and seeing such a sight!? I was raised down the interstate from 101st Airborne “Screaming Eagles” stationed out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Recognizing their emblem in the Airborne Museum and knowing these boys trained in Kentucky formed a connection and sense of identity.  Joining them in the sky was the 82nd Airborne out of Ft Bragg, the British 6th Airborne Division, and the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion.  The young American men fulfilled the mission of liberating the village of Sainte-Mère-Église.

 

This is the church in the middle of the town where the storied American hero, John Steele, got his parachute stuck on the spire on his way down. He hung there for two hours before the Nazis took him prisoner. Of course, being the American BA that he was, he escaped and took some 30 Nazis prisoner and killed a few. Other paratroopers who got stuck on trees and poles were not so lucky to be taken captive and were just killed on the spot. I can just imagine the night sky filled with floating warriors ascending on the charming ancient town.

A dummy still hangs from the ancient church, memorializing John Steele.

It is humbling to remember these were just regular 20-something year old boys given a daunting mission, knowing that the world was depending on them to succeed.

Lieutenant Colonel and Lieutenant embracing their heritage.

Then

Today

Seeing the beach I could understand the description “the longest day.” When would the day end? D-Day was just the first day of Operation Overload. Devastation would continue all summer!

The trees were intentionally groomed this way to symbolize the lives cut short.

We sojourned to Arromanches to see the remains of the artificial port then Benouville to see the Pegasus Bridge, where British air-troops landed. In the evening we rested in the lovely village of Courseulles sur Mer, where we dinned on a typical seafood dinner in one of the cozy restaurants before retiring to our hotel.

There were two more days of the tour that guided us to an excursion to Le Mont Saint Michel then of course, you cannot road trip France without going to Paris. However, my pilgrimage to Normandy was the most eventful and meaningful. Disorganization, confusion, and incomplete or faulty implementation of carefully drawn-out plans lead to such pain, destruction and heartbreak followed with courage and determination and resulting in glory and triumph.  Seeing how a place so horrific could be turned into something beautiful called to mind Igor Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite. ‘The Inferno’ was the war, followed by the finale of today. Out of all the despair and devastation comes hope, renewal, and beauty. Misery, regardless of how bleak and dismal, regardless if you can see the end in sight or not, doesn’t last always.

Mont Saint Michel visited later during the extended weekend. Click to start planning your Normandy weekend.