When in Europe I make it a point to go to Normandy, France. I stand on the bluffs of Pointe du Hoc and imagine what it was like for the young Army Rangers to scale the cliffs under a barrage of enemy machine gun fire. I walk the streets of Sainte-Mère-Église and Carentan where U.S. Army paratroopers descended from the skies. I look across the fields where gliders of the 82nd Airborne approached from out of the night, to gaze out over the beaches of Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno, and Sword where allied soldiers landed on June 6, 1944, D-Day.
I remember their sacrifice. I honor their memory. I remember.
Today I look out over these beaches where so many Americans lost their lives, though this time I am with my sixteen-year-old daughter escorting Walter and Jack Stowe, brothers who both forged documents and lied about their ages to serve their country in World War II at fifteen years old. We are part of a team of volunteers from the Best Defense Foundation, an organization started by NFL great Donnie Edwards whose grandfather was stationed at Pearl Harbor when planes of Imperial Japan attacked on December 7, 1941.
Donnie’s grandfather instilled in him a love of country and an appreciation for all that was sacrificed in defense of freedom. The Best Defense Foundation "takes care of those who took care of us" by bringing veterans of the Greatest Generation back to the battlefields on which they fought, to say goodbye to their brothers in arms who did not make it home.
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My daughter and I walk with Tom Rice, now 100 years old, through the streets of Carentan. He was among the first to jump into occupied France on June 6, 1944 with his Thompson Submachine Gun in hand and his 1911 pistol on his hip. He would be wounded four times over the next year and a half. We stand on Omaha Beach with "CP" Martin who was one of the first off his landing craft, jumping into waist deep water under fire, wounded but continuing to fight, taking the beach before moving through France and the Netherlands and into Germany to victory.
We listen to Cliff Stump of the 82nd Airborne who "landed" in Normandy under the cover of darkness on the early hours of D-Day going on to fight in the Battle of the Bulge and on to Berlin. I ask him if his landing felt like a crash to which he responds, "son, it was a crash." We talk with Wally King who was shot down on his 75th combat mission in his P-47 Thunderbolt over Germany. We share a meal with Bill Casassa of the 84th Infantry Division who landed in France a few days after his 19th birthday to serve 171 consecutive days through the Siegfried Line and on through the Rhineland, Ardenne, and Central European Campaigns. We shake hands with Charles Shay who landed in the first wave on D-Day as a combat medic before going on to fight in Aachen, Huetgen Forest, the Battle of the Bulge and the Rhine.
We have coffee with George Mullins who landed on Utah Beach and pushed through Operation Market Garden, the Battle of the Bulge and on through Austria to Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest in Germany. We sit with 99-year-old Jack Myers as he reminises about tank battles in Antwerp, the Siegfried Line, crossing the Rhine, the Battle of the Bulge, Cologne, and driving across Germany to liberate the Dachau concentration camp. We hug Jake Larson who charged though enemy machine gun fire on Omaha Beach in the initial invasion going on to fight in the Battle of the Bulge. We honor Joe Picard who fought through Normandy and the Battle of the Bulge.
We have lunch with Ray Glansberg who fought with Patton’s 3rd Army through the Battle of the Bulge and on to liberate the Buchenwald concentration camp. We ask questions of POW Richard Lewis who was forced marched to Stalag XII-A and then on by box car to Stalag XII-C. We eat breakfast with Robert "Boots" Chouinard who fought in the Battle of the Bulge. We witness Robert "Bud" Sabetay open up about the Battle of the Bulge, Metz, and the Siegfried Line. We stand at attention as CP Martin and Bud Sabetay are awarded the French Legion of Honour in a ceremony on the soil for which they fought.
In the United States, June 6, 1944 will receive passing mention on news programs and social channels. There are few, if any, parades or official remembrances. Even those veterans who fought across the beaches and on to Berlin will receive scant recognition for what they did to liberate a continent and preserve the blessings of freedom for those who would follow.
In Normandy, they have not forgotten. They have not forgotten the Nazi occupation nor those who came ashore and dropped from the heavens 78 years ago. There are parades, remembrances, reenactments, parachute drops, and fireworks. The entire region, thousands of people, come out to welcome these heroes of the WW II generation, hug them, kiss them, ask them for photographs and autographs, and listen to their stories, stories they remember as if D-Day were yesterday.
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But D-Day was not yesterday. It was 78 years ago. Those who fought there are creeping up on a century of life; some have passed that milestone. Soon they will walk among us no longer, their legacy honored by some, unappreciated by others, forgotten by too many.
The people of Normandy remember what it was like to be invaded and oppressed. And they remember what it was like to be liberated. They pass along the stories and the appreciation. What these men did on June 6, 1944, and in the months that followed will not be forgotten here. It is a privilege to spend time with them on the beaches, fields, and towns in which they fought.
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As I push Walter Stowe through the Brittany American Cemetery in his wheelchair, he reminds me that in life we will touch a great many people. The question, he says, is will the people whose lives we touch be the better for it? Wise words.
Remember these citizen soldiers today and every day. Spend time with them at every opportunity. Listen to their stories. Embrace their wisdom. And when the last of them walks among us no longer, honor their sacrifice by standing strong for the freedoms for which they fought.
Remember them.
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