A Jaunt to Omaha Beach

Four years ago I was excited about planning my first visit to World War II sites. We took a jaunt to Pointe du Hoc, Arrowmanches where remnants of the massive floating Mulberry Harbour still remain, and the Normandy American Cemetery.

But I never wrote about our jaunt to one of the landing beaches: Omaha Beach. The 75th Anniversary of the D-Day Landings seems like a good day to do it.

Formative Years

I’m not sure why World War II fascinates me so much. Maybe because if I wanted to get my parents talking, all I had to do was ask them about their memories from that time.

They were both about nine or ten when the war started. Old enough to appreciate the big changes it had on their lives even here in the U.S.

Rations, Victory Gardens, scrap metal collection drives, air raid practices… They were young enough that all of that was more exciting than scary. A break from the routine, without really fathoming the consequences involved or at stake.

But they both started coming of age during the war years too. They didn’t lose anyone in their families to any of the battles, but friends and neighbors did. They mourned with them, were outraged with them, and luckily ultimately celebrated victory with them. They learned powerful lessons about sacrifice in many forms during their formative years. Ones they’d carry with them their entire lives.

The Call to Serve

My dad wanted nothing more than to join the military and fly for the Air Force. So that’s what he did. As soon as he was old enough, he enlisted.

Sadly, it was a short service. He was honorably discharged within six months after doctors detected a heart murmur. His dream of becoming a pilot exploded. He was devastated.

But his love for the United States military would remain a lifelong one, and so would his interest in World War II history. He was nuts about it. He’d read or watch anything having to do with it.

So when I got the chance to jaunt to Normandy, I took as many photos as I could for him. I would’ve liked to have had him with me, but his health prevented that ambitious of a journey.

Today I’m thinking of him, who taught by example. He was so proud to be an American, and had the utmost gratitude and respect for service men and women.

And of course I’m thinking about those young men who fought and died not only for our country, but for the world.

Those Who Serve

Those who serve are really a special breed, aren’t they? Putting your life on the line is quite the calling.

Listening to my dad, I know part of why he wanted to serve was because of World War II. There was a glamour to it. And a romance. The chance to go to far off places and come back a hero. That’s exciting.

But I can’t help but wonder what happened when the shit got real? Saving Private Ryan comes to mind. It did when I found myself on Omaha Beach.

The young men sitting on those boats heading for the shore. The roar of gunfire. Bullets whizzing blast. Bombs exploding. The earth shaking. Comrades falling. Blood flowing. Bodies littering the sand.

I can’t even imagine what the surge of terror and adrenaline must have felt like. All I know is that thank heavens those soldiers were able to do what they did during the D-Day Invasion.

I’m not sure the world would’ve looked like how its portrayed in The Man in the High Castle, but I’m so very grateful we never had to find out.