All the Young Men

It was 13 years ago, but it was trip I will never forget. We went to Paris for our 3oth wedding anniversary. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go to Normandy to see the beaches of D-Day and the American Cemetery and Memorial. My father-in-law had landed on Utah beach in August of 1944 about two months after the initial landing. He rode a tank ahead of Patton’s army and survived The Battle of the Bulge. It was about a three hour drive north of Paris. You drive along narrow two lane roads through the French countryside that looked as it did in 1944. You finally see a small horizontal sign as you make a turn with an arrow that just says “American Cemetery.” I wasn’t really prepared for what we were about to see and feel.

We will be celebrating Memorial Day this weekend when we honor all those who died in war. To many, it just means a long holiday weekend, the unofficial beginning of summer, and a time for big sales. The tradition started after the Civil War when people, mostly women, would decorate the graves of the soldiers who died in our most terrible war. It became known as “Decoration Day” until it was re-named Memorial Day in 1966. But when you drive into the American Cemetery you are struck by the green grass and the quiet. As you walk into the cemetery, there is a giant semi-circle colonnade with large maps etched into the stone showing all the theaters of operation in the Second World War. The cemetery is 172.5 acres and there are 9,387 graves. A temporary cemetery was set up on June 8, 1944, two days after the invasion. It was later moved to the present site. You walk from the memorial colonnade into the cemetery.

You are struck by the enormity and the precision of what lays before you. I started to tear up as we were enveloped by the stillness and blue sky. It was as if we were entering a great cathedral. There are rows of crosses and Stars of David on the graves with the names of the dead, their units, and the day they died. Most died on D-Day or in the weeks and months that followed. You realize most died before their adult lives really began. They were very young men. Their futures and potential never realized. Gone in an instant as they fought for their country and their buddies in arms.

The cemetery sits on a bluff overlooking the killing ground of Omaha Beach. You can look down and realize the fire that was rained on those gallant young men as they struggled out of the landing crafts. Some killed as they hit the water. Others pushing to get to shore through the bullets, wooden stakes and metal tripods the Germans planted in the waves. You can walk down winding stairways to the beach. It is flat, white, and spotless with no evidence of the blood and guts that stained it on that terrible morning. You turn around and look up at the wall of death they faced, and it takes your breath away.

You then walk back up the stairs and back through the cemetery and take your memories home with you. Something the men buried in the silent green field never got the chance to do. The Allies suffered at least 10,000 casualties with 4,414 killed on that day. The Germans had between 4,000-9,000 casualties. Most of us will not remember the anniversary of D-Day about a week after Memorial Day. World War II is said to be the last good war, but there is no such thing. Of course, in the decades since men and women have died in Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq and many smaller military operations around the world. This Memorial Day we should all take a moment between barbecues and bargains and think about the cost of war, and all the young men, and women, who are laying in many silent fields of green so we could be free.