Probably, for a lot of us, those days are nothing more that some war movies or at most some far away memory of our grandfathers. Yet who saw those days lived the change of history, the same history that nowadays allows us to leave the life we are living. If that day would have ended differently nowadays we would live a reality that has been only imagined, luckily, by the literature in novels such as “fatherland” written by Robert Harris.
Six June 1944, also known as the D-Day. The beginning of the Overlord operation to reconquer and free Europe from the Nazis. I imagine how many people would have avoided being on that beaches that day, nor with the Alleys nor with the Germans. Filmography and literature are abundant. From the classic “the longest day” till the most recent and revolutionary, in terms of severity, “save the brave Ryan” till the book “Sie Kommen” that tells the landing seen with a German perspective, the information aren’t missing.
I would have written this post some months ago. Unfortunately priorities and commitments didn’t allow me to do it before but the sixth June of the previous year it was the seventies anniversary of the landing and I decided I could not miss a chance like that. So I booked a train headed to Paris and then I kept moving to the north west till Caen and by car till Saint Mere Eglise.
It’s not that easy to describe that atmosphere, everywhere columns of ancient jeeps, military trucks, Dakota Airplanes (the parachutist airplanes of those times) constantly flying. If it wasn’t for the modern cars around, I would have thought to have passed the border of time. Celebrations everywhere, a Normandy literally invaded by tourists, authorities and military associations.
The night before the landing, a sad and melodic poetry written by Paul Verlain, Chanson d’automne, was read at the radio as a massage to the resistance to announce the imminence of the landing.
“Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon cœur
D’une langueur
Monotone.”
That six June 1944 had to be a really bad morning with its bad weather and rough sea. The white silent crosses on the short and green grass of the military cemeteries give the idea of the numbers. More or less, 10000 allied felt and around 6000 in the German ranks. In just one day. Something that we cannot imagine but that we can see in the glimpse of that red eyes of the touched (moved?) veterans. Veterans, mainly on wheelchairs accompanied by relatives, wearing proudly the uniform passing within the lines of white crosses where comrades are lying beneath the soil.
Paul Anka composed this sad song “The Longest Day” used as soundtrack for the homonymous movie, the notes of this song explain quite properly the situation:
“Many men are tired and weary
Many men are here to stay
Many men won’t see the sunset
When it ends the longest day”
Never along history there was a so huge landing and today France remembers that tragic moment having renewed many fighting sights, keeping everything well ordered, so the tourist or better the pilgrim, can visit that places remembering the cruelty and absurdity of those fighting.
At midnight I’m with a friend of mine from Saint Mere Eglise whose grandparents had seen that landing. We are sitting on one of the landing beaches. Along the coast there is an endless human line. Thousands of people are waiting, like us, the fireworks. This ones will be fired from all the landing places. I still remember my grandpa, each time that there was a celebration with fireworks, he just closed every window and shutter. Once I asked him why and he replied that he did not want to see or hear any firework because that sounds and lights brought his thoughts to the Bengal lights fired by his frigate over the sea, during endless war nights, trying to perceive the enemy submarines’ periscopes.
Each time that I see places such as the ones of Normandy I truly understand the luck that nowadays we have and that many are slowly forgetting as the price for freedom has been paid a long time ago by someone else.
Around the many sites that I visited one impressed me the most: Point du Hoc. It’s a glade at the top of a cliff between Utah and Omaha Beach. A glade that is still a gruyere of giant bomb craters in-between an expanse of collapsed and destroyed bunkers. There, the American Rangers climbed that cliff with ropes and grapnels. Unbelievable facts.
About this topic, we could go on talking about the feeling that we can feel going through these places but I won’t go on anymore with this post. Who wants can find enough information and, even better, can directly visit these places that between history, traditions and excellent food won’t let you down. Here below you may find a short photographic gallery of those remembrance day of the 70th anniversary of the landing.
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