Normandy

On many occasions, an itinerary was made or altered for my dad. Other than his tour of duty in Italy during WWII, he relied on National Geographic and me to bring the world to him. In 1973, my trek from Paris to London made a very necessary sojourn through Normandy. Up to this point, I had noticed France was still showing scars of the War. On occasion, a section of a building was in the rubble where the other part was being lived in. Germany had no such signs. I recall the story of Saarbrucken Germany where the city was completely destroyed except for a drug store in the town center. The current city is built on top of the ruins with the original drug store in operation but at a level ten feet below the surrounds.
My first stop in Normandy was Omaha Beach – the bomb craters and bunkers are still there. It was as if there should have been shelled landing craft as well. I sat in the turf and wrote dad a postcard. Just up the road from the beach was Pointe-du-Hoc. This was the landing site of a combined British and American Ranger group that was stalled by 100-foot tall cliffs while taking German gunfire. Inland my map showed several crosses for memorial cemeteries. I stopped at one. Thousands of white crosses brought me to my knees. Beyond there the ferries to England sailed from Boulogne-sur-Mer and Calais. I was told German pillboxes that shelled London were still in the area and I found one. Concrete walls four feet thick shielded the guns inside.
I was part of the Naval Amphibious forces; one vintage sailor aboard my ship was part of the Utah Beach invasion. Reverence would describe his attitude for the fallen and mine as well.