Pilgrimage to Normandy

PFC Newt Hansen

The highlight of a soldier’s day were letters from home. My pack-rat father stashed his away, forgotten for decades. No war stories at our house. I never asked, he never offered. After he died, I found letters from friends and family—-about victory gardens, scrap drives, USO dances. Dad served with 121st Combat Engineers, part of the 29th infantry, first wave on Omaha Beach. Eager for more, I turned sleuth. The 29th Infantry headquarters provided names of  the 121st survivors. I wrote letters, responses poured in, detailed accounts-in shaky handwriting-of the landing, blowing up hedgerows, taking Saint-Lo, building pontoon bridges, disabling mine fields, burying cows, fighting enemy fire. No memories of PFC Newt Hansen,  yet the letters answered: “What did you do in the war, Daddy?” Some vets shared about their trips back to Normandy. My heart stirred with a longing: a pilgrimage to Normandy. We began in London with the underground Cabinet War Rooms where Churchill directed the war. Cigar smoke no longer hangs in the air, but history does. Once a secret location, it’s open to all, a highlight for Carl and me.

Next, the Imperial War Museum with its strong American connection, exciting exhibits on the Battle of Britain where American flyboys joined the RAF to fight the Luftwaffe. We must miss the American War Museum that pays homage to 30,000 airmen who died on missions from the UK. It’s top on Carl’s list for the next trip as it houses the largest collection of American war birds outside the US; a vintage B-17 Flying Fortress, B-24 Liberator, B-25 Mitchell, and P-47 Thunderbolt.

Jan soaks up World War II history at the Imperial War Museum, London

Rocketing through the Chunnel to France, we got our rental car. Roads to Normandy are well marked with signs following the invasion story. First stop: Churchill’s brainchild, Arromanches, the world’s first pre-fab harbor. A walk along the seafront promenade gives way to visions of 17 old ships crossing the Channel, being sunk to form a sea barrier here. Within six days, 54,000 vehicles, 326,000 troops, many tons of goods came ashore on floating roads. Eleven months later, Hitler was dead and the war was over. The D-Day Landing Museum is a fascinating glimpse at this feat while gazing out at the harbor’s remains. Later, wander the beach among the rusted litter of battle. Down the road, at the Caen Memorial Museum we steeped ourselves in events leading up to the famous day.

Sixty-six years later, the Normandy coast boasts picturesque seaside towns, inviting B&B’s, hedges and farmhouses, cattle and pastures, but memories of the war are ingrained in the landscape. Along the 50-mile coast are German bunkers, bomb craters, war memorials, monuments to the allies, poignant reminders we’ll never forget. Pointe Du Hoc Ranger Monument honors 300 men handpicked for the castle-style assault on German-occupied cliffs. Only 90 survived.

Normandy’s must see is The American Cemetery where over 9,000 white marble crosses and Star of Davids stand as haunting reminders of the cost to free France. Since “Saving Private Ryan,” more Americans come on pilgrimages to this bluff. We walked past beach defenses, gun emplacements that still tower over Omaha Beach. Not hard to picture German gunfire raining down on the troops, killing 2,000 on that “longest day,” June 6, 1944. I ambled down to the world’s most famous beach,  peaceful and deserted except for a veteran’s daughter with a lump in her throat, tear in her eye, a deep-felt connection with a faraway place. What went through Daddy’s mind that day?” I can only guess. As he waded through the chilly waist-deep water, fear shot through him, fear that gave way to courage under fire. He never considered it heroic, simply no other choice. The war must be won to save the world. His was truly the Greatest Generation.

On Omaha Beach came a revelation, no wonder I love the old war movies where good conquers evil, why I get goose bumps when singing “God Bless America.” What a debt we owe our World War II veterans, what a legacy they leave, more than love of country and fierce patriotism. A lesson for all; freedom is always worth the sacrifice. I won’t take mine for granted again.   .