Normandy

Seventy five years ago, on June 6, 1944, the Allied forces (ABC--Americans, British and Canadians ) landed on five D-Day beaches and wrenched back Europe into light from the darkness it had descended into under Hitler.  Starting closest to Paris, on the most direct line into the heart of Germany to end the scourge of Nazism was Sword beach (british), Juno beach (Canadian), Gold Beach (British), Omaha beach (American) and on the Cotentin peninsula, Utah beach (American).  (Desperate moments on Omaha beach 75 years ago.)

The British were supposed to take Caen, the Norman capital with its important road junctions out of the confining bocage country and into open tank country, on the first day but they failed to do so and hard fighting lay ahead for the rest of the summer in Normandy as German armored reinforcements steadily came on to be engaged in a stalemate by the British and Canadians as the Americans loaded up a "right punch" to finally break out of Normandy at the end of August.  Certainly Operation Overlord was no sure thing, it was a close thing perhaps, there was no Plan B if the landings failed, and what I discerned from tramping over the beaches for two days was how far apart the beaches were and how, with a little luck and a better performance by the Luftwaffe, the Germans might have exploited the initial gaps between the five beachheads and driven the Allies into the sea in piecemeal fashion.  (The long walk in from the low tide point on Gold beach.)

The most success was had at Gold beach as the British Green Howards drove almost to Bayeux the first day and established a firm lodgment with some depth, although not as far inland as the plans called for.  The three Allied Airborne units sowed confusion in the German rear and prevented coherent counterattacks on the beaches, and the Americans poured ashore on Utah beach where they met negligible resistance thanks to an effective naval and air bombing that worked as planned there alone amongst the five beaches.  (A Green Howard at rest on the tip of the spear on the evening of the Longest Day.)

Tragedy ensued on Omaha beach as the first wave was slaughtered, and off Juno beach as SS troopers systematically executed Canadian POWs in cold blood at Ardenne Abbey.  But our forces prevailed and it was very poignant to spend two days walking in the footsteps of heroes and giants on the beaches and battlefields and in the cemeteries there.  (The Price. The Canadian cemetery, one of many Allied cemeteries in Normandy.)

 

Bayeux

Bayeux in Normandy, France, is the town from which King William the Conquerer launched his invasion of England in 1066 which culminated in his victory over King Harold at the Battle of Hastings.  In town is a famous 950 year-old tapestry, 70 yards long and consisting of a few dozen sewn cloth panels of thread, linen and wool depicting the events of that momentous year from the victor's viewpoint.

It's a beautiful medieval village with narrow, winding streets, some paved with cobblestones, with joined buildings just past the narrow sidewalks which give the byways a canyon-like appearance. Residents engage in the very French way of life by buying food or wine for that night rom open-front stores on their way home from work, walking most likely.

A farmers market comes to the public square every weekend top provide whatever else the residents might need, because it sells everything from clothing to live fowls to fresh fish to wines and cheeses or even cooked foods.  My two friends and I were there to visit the five D-Day beaches nearby on this 75th-year anniversary of that stupendous battle.

Bayeux mostly bears no scars from that battle which raged in Normandy all summer during 1944, because it was captured intact by the Allies in the first week of fighting before it had a chance to be devastated by the shelling conducted by both sides during their battles that demolished many Norman towns and villages.  In town we enjoyed evening meals in local restaurants, nighttime views of the town's tremendous chapel, morning forays along the main street in search of coffee and afternoon walks past the butcher shops, produce shops, pastry shops and fish shops lining the business district.

Over There.

A few pictures from my recent (and first) trip overseas, to England and France.  (The killing ground on Omaha Beach in Normandy.)

Oxford was a very picturesque English town, an hour north of London.  (Having a draft at a pub on my first night in Oxford with my running buddy from last decade, Bex.)

London is a great city, with a lot of history in it.  (Trafalgar Square.)

Paris is Paris.  (An American tourist in the City of Lights.)

Juno

Rhea and Eric's plans for their trip to Normandy in the spring included a full day tour, escorted by a sought-after personal guide, of the two American D-Day beaches, Omaha (the really famous one) and Utah.  There were three other beach landings that day in history, Gold and Sword by the British sandwiched around Juno by the Canadians, quaintly referred to by local guides as the "Commonwealth" beaches.  (Omaha Beach.)

My two friends indicated an interest to their British guide in touring those beaches the subsequent day, and he gave them the names of other guides who might accommodate them on short notice (personal tours are locked up months in advance, especially since this year is the 75th anniversary of the landings).  These guides when contacted all lauded my friends as being the rare Americans who showed interest in the British and Canadian beaches, or even knowledge of the fact that there were other beaches involved in D-Day beyond Omaha and Utah.  (Juno Beach.)

My friends locked in the second personal tour.  There's so much to do and so many places to see in Normandy, where the fighting raged all summer in 1944 before the Americans broke out of the bocage country at the end of August and unlocked the German defensive containment of the Allied lodgment on the Cotentin Peninsula, that an overview, with an emphasis in depth on the British and Canadian beaches is warranted, even for Americans.  (Utah Beach.)

Meanwhile, I pondered the invite to come along extended by my two friends.  As Eric the journalist put it to me--If not now, when?  (Sword Beach.)