Normandy: D-Day Beaches

The primary reason for coming to Normandy was so we could visit the D-Day Beaches and Memorials. It has long been a dream of mine to walk across the hallowed ground here along the coast of France, and I wasn't about to leave Europe without doing it. I'm so glad we did.

Today, we spent the entire morning and afternoon travelling between the historic beaches, remembering and honoring those men and women who gave their all to liberate France from the tight fist of the Nazis.

Omaha Beach

On the 6th of June 1944, over 43,000 men jumped out of their transports and stormed Omaha Beach. A tangle of barbed wire, bullets ricocheting off rocks and the sand, the horrendous noise from the fleet bombarding the German defenses, the beach of D-Day is long gone now. Today, it is a place of peace and quiet.

When we approached the Memorial, I immediately felt a sense of calm and, surprisingly, happiness. Of course I felt the respectful soberness that comes with visiting a battle site and I recognized that the flags flapping in the breeze represented thousands of young lives lost on the very ground I stood on. But the beauty of the place is that it represents liberation and recovery. The world has healed from the terror that rained down on the tranquil beaches of Normandy, and Omaha Beach is a testimony of that.

As soon as we stepped on to the sand and Henry saw the water, he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbows and pointed: of course he wanted to touch it! At first I wasn't sure if we should let him play in the water on this particular shore. Perhaps it was disrespectful. But then as I considered what I had been feeling, I realized that the reason those men died was so we could enjoy those beaches, not so we would spend the rest of our lives mourning. We helped Henry get down to just his diaper and followed closely as he played in the water and buried his toes in the sand.

As we watched him play, frequently holding his hand as he tried to venture out deeper, Derek and I talked about how beautiful the beach is. Honestly, as Derek said, in terms of sand and sea it is the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. Ever. The water was surprisingly warm, the sand so soft and smooth. How tragic that, 70 years ago, it was the scene of so much fear and destruction. The beaches of Normandy were never meant to be killing fields, but to be enjoyed by everyone, just as they are now.

And isn't that worth fighting for? The peace, the joy, the beauty, that has returned to Normandy? Thousands of men who died at Omaha Beach thought so. They thought it was worth liberating, worth saving, worth returning to the free people of the world to enjoy. As Henry splashed about on the beaches, I felt so grateful for those American boys who laid down their lives 70 years ago so my own little American boy could be free.

Pont du Hoc

Just a little ways down the beach, a bit of land juts out into the English Channel. High cliffs and rocky edges are striking against the beautiful blue sea and sky. Here, on D-Day, the ultimate test of the U.S. Rangers took place. Using just rope ladders and their bayonets to keep steady, the 2nd Division of the U.S. Rangers scaled all 90 feet of these cliffs under intense fire. Pont du Hoc was heavily defended by the Germans, as it was a strategic location for the placement of big guns to fire on Utah Beach. The Rangers' mission was to find and destroy the German artillery on the top of Pont du Hoc, giving the boys on Utah Beach a bit of relief from the horrendous barrage. Under the command of Colonel James Rudder, the Rangers took the ridge after fighting for two days. 

Visiting Pont du Hoc is a sobering experience. It reflects what the countryside would have looked like in the days following the landing at Normandy, as it is scarred with the craters from the artillery bombardment from the sea. It's a bit of an obstacle course in spots, as the holes left by Allied shells are blended with the remains of German defenses, all bearing the scars of the explosives that poured down on the landscape in June 1944. 

As Henry slept in his buggy, Derek and I made our way around Pont du Hoc, marveling at the damage caused those many years ago. Even more than that, we thought about the bravery and conviction of those men fought and died to secure the area. In the visitors' center, we watched a film that included interviews from some of the Rangers who captured Pont du Hoc. Etched into the wall nearby, were the words from one of those soldiers: "Dear God, don't let me drown. Let me get up there and do what I'm supposed to do." 

The bravery of the men who scaled the cliffs at Pont du Hoc and then continued fighting is astounding. By the end of the day, June 8, only 90 of the 225 U.S. Rangers were fit for duty. 

When Henry woke up, we sat and had our lunch on one of the German Defenses, now just a cement slab in the ground. Derek commented on how we probably weren't the first to sit and have our lunch there, our legs dangling and the sun shining down on us. In the days that followed the liberation of Normandy, surely a soldier or two sat there and ate their lunch, drinking from their canteens and eating their K-rations, relieved that the landing on ended, and preparing for months of combat through Europe.

American Cemetery

Not far from Omaha Beach and Pont du Hoc is the American Cemetery. Nearly 9,000 crosses or stars of David are placed in perfectly straight lines there, marking the graves of fallen soldiers. As with all military cemeteries, this place is quiet and peaceful and a spirit of honor permeates the ground. 

I looked forward to visiting this cemetery for several reasons, but the most important was that I wanted to honor the men who gave their lives in the cause of liberty. And not just the liberty of my country, but the freedom of our allies, too. One of my favorite things about Normandy is the immense sense of gratitude the French have for the Americans who liberated their country. When we stepped off the train in Caen, posted along the platform and throughout the station were images of the Americans, British, Canadians, and French soldiers who landed on the beaches on D-Day. French civilians handed them flowers, weeping with gratitude. Children kissed them on the cheeks. Across the countryside, are memorials to these men, flowers placed at the bottom in gratitude. They haven't forgotten what those men did and what they sacrificed for their freedom. 

The American Cemetery in Normandy is another sign of that gratitude. The lawns are perfectly trimmed, the flowers and trees pruned, the marble all polished bright. As we left the cemetery, I couldn't help but look back and see a memorial and final resting place befitting the sacrifice of all those men and women. While we can never make up for their lives, we can give them a beautiful resting place to honor the futures that they gave up for our liberty.

Utah Beach

Our last stop on our D-Day tour was Utah Beach, far along the coast. As we drove the nearly 40 minutes from the American Cemetery near Omaha Beach to the memorial at Utah Beach, Derek and I discussed how actually visiting Normandy gives a true sense of scale to Operation Overlord. Looking at it on a map does nothing compared to walking along the beaches or driving from one end to the other. It was a massive undertaking! To see all the land that was opened up as a front by the Allies, and we only looked at the two beaches the Americans had responsibility for--three more spots lie just northeast along the beach where the British and Canadians landed.

It was nearly dinner time when we reached Utah Beach, so we didn't stay long. Unlike what we saw at Omaha, Utah Beach played host to dozens of locals and tourists enjoying the sand and sea. We watched horses trotting through the water, families picking up seashells, and dozens of windsurfers zipping across the sand. We joined them, moseying across the beach, choosing our favorite shells. Derek found a few for Henry, who immediately used them as writing utensils in the sand. We carved out our names, traced our feet, and built tiny little sand castles.

Looking back on today, I have to admit that this visit wasn't at all what I expected. I had anticipated feeling sad and leaving with a sense of gratitude, yes, but also a sense of sobriety. The gratitude was certainly there, but in a way I hadn't anticipated.

As I watched my innocent little boy scamper around the beaches and pat the marble crosses in the cemetery, I realized just how happy I am. I thought back on all the incredible adventures we have had as a family, exploring England and now France. I thought about how every morning and night we say our prayers, thanking Heavenly Father for another beautiful day, for our home, for our food, and for our freedom. And all of that happiness I owe in part to the men who struggled up the beaches at Normandy.

Today, I felt the quiet peace that rests on Normandy. Of course I felt deep sadness when I thought of the fear those men experienced as they left this life. However, almost immediately after that sadness, I felt a calm reassurance that their willingness to die was not so I would live my life in mourning, but that I would continue to find happiness and joy in the freedom they died fighting to preserve. The beautiful thing about memorials, museums, and dedications is that they remind us of all that we have.

As Derek, Henry, and I explored Normandy today, we did so knowing that we are free to live our lives how we choose. We will go home to our country, the United States of America, with a greater appreciation and sense of gratitude for the sacrifice of those men, those thousands of men and women, who fought on the beaches so we can be free. So we can be happy.