D-Day Remembered

Posted By Blackfive

"The wind is cold, the spray is miserable. The clothes are soaked thru, and the landing craft is pitching and yawing like a kite in a windstorm. The boys vomit from the rollercoaster aaffects of the seas and smashing waves that jar your teeth out of your head.

The place, is Normany, the beach is Fox Green.

Welcome to the Invasion..." - from Technography's post about the Battle for Fox Green Beach

Ike addressing Paratroopers of the 502nd PIR, 101st Airborne Division, at Greenham Common Airfield, England, at about 8:30 p.m. on June 5, 1944.

I'll start by posting this link to the Blog Round-Up of posts about the 60th Anniversary of the landing on Normandy in 1944.

There's lots of information there.

Ordinary Christian posts Winston Churchill's address about the invasion of France to the House of Commons on June 6th ,1944.

...There are already hopes that actual tactical surprise has been attained, and we hope to furnish the enemy with a succession of surprises during the course of the fighting. The battle that has now begun will grow constantly in scale and in intensity for many weeks to come, and I shall not attempt to speculate upon its course. This I may say, however. Complete unity prevails throughout the Allied Armies. There is a brotherhood in arms between us and our friends of the United States...

Also, Ordinary Christian also posts General Eisenhower's address to the troops before the invasion and about Four Men on D-day who were awarded the MOH.

Seawitch writes about the Higgins Boats - the wooden vessels that landed the troops close to shore.

...The men who drove these boats had to have had nerves of steel. For after they unloaded one load of men, they would have to go through enemy bombardment to return to the ships to pick up more men or supplies...

ArmyAirForces.com has a thread where readers are submitting stories.  One of my favorites there is from Don Burgett who jumped on D-Day:

...We began burning all that could not or would not be carried with us on the jump. We were ordered to write several post dated letters home which would be mailed later to our families, or who-ever addressed. Then we had breakfast, a mirror of what we had the day before. "Why are they feeding us so good"" a trooper asked me in the chow line. "A last meal." I replied...

Kit Jarrell at Euphoric Reality has a post about the Coast Guard on D-Day:

...Many Americans know about D-Day, and far too many don’t. But even those who have taken the time to learn and hold dear the story of bloody beaches and dangerous static lines may not know that the Coast Guard was there too, far away from home, bleeding and dying and fighting along with the Army, Navy, and other Allied troops...

Update: More below...

Jerry at Confabulation has a picture of the memorial at Normandy.

John at Op-For picks my favorite piece from the landing at Normandy - Point du Hoc.  The Rangers scaled the cliffs only to find their objective missing...

Captain B at One Marine's View has a post about Role Models...from D-Day in 1944 to the streets of Ramadi.

Technography has a comprehensive post about the Battle for Fox Green Beach.

John Donovan at Argghhh! has two posts about D-Day - A Paratrooper Jumps - H-5 (with more from paratrooper Don Burgett) and Slapton Sends D+38.  And definitely check out the photo essay of the landing H Hour...

Cop the Truth takes a look at D-Day + 62 (years)...

Clarity and Resolve has a picture from the landing and updated it with some color via photoshop.

Echo9er has a post complete with a New York Times article about the invasion...can you tell the difference between the Times of 1944 and now?

Knockin' on the Golden Door has a post about Vargas girls of D-Day...

Sons of the American Legion Post 459 posts about Franklin D. Roosevelt's D-Day Prayer.

Another update:

Confederate Yankee has General George Patton's speech to the troops before the invasion:

"Be Seated."

"Men, this stuff we hear about America wanting to stay out of the war, not wanting to fight, is a lot of bullshit. Americans love to fight - traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble player; the fastest runner; the big league ball players; the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win - all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost, not ever will lose a war, for the very thought of losing is hateful to an American."

"You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Every man is frightened at first in battle. If he says he isn't, he's a goddamn liar. Some men are cowards, yes! But they fight just the same, or get the hell shamed out of them watching men who do fight who are just as scared. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some get over their fright in a minute under fire, some take an hour. For some it takes days. But the real man never lets fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to this country and his innate manhood."...

Damn right, sir...

And Ayatollah Ghilmeini leaves a Comment at LGF about D-Day.

Cool Blue Blog has an interesting post about the oldest Battleship in the Fleet (his father was aboard during the invasion)...

Chaotic Synaptic Activity has a great post about A Man Who Flew Gliders...now, those guys had major B@!!$...there's no way you could get this Master Blaster in one of those things...without a helluva lot of Guinness...just sayin'.

Murdoc Online says "Gather weapons and ammo..."

John in Carolina posts an important article from Ernie Pyle - "A Pure Miracle":

In this column I want to tell you what the opening of the second front in this one sector entailed, so that you can know and appreciate and forever be humbly grateful to those both dead and alive who did it for you.

Ashore, facing us, were more enemy troops than we had in our assault waves. The advantages were all theirs, the disadvantages all ours. The Germans were dug into positions that they had been working on for months, although these were not yet all complete.

A one-hundred-foot bluff a couple of hundred yards back from the beach had great concrete gun emplacements built right into the hilltop. These opened to the sides instead of to the front, thus making it very hard for naval fire from the sea to reach them. They could shoot parallel with the beach and cover every foot of it for miles with artillery fire.

Then they had hidden machine-gun nests on the forward slopes, with crossfire taking in every inch of the beach. These nests were connected by networks of trenches, so that the German gunners could move about without exposing themselves...

And that's just for openers.

At The Wood Shed, Steve Ambrose channels Stephen Ambrose about D-Day.

The Body Politic posts President Reagan's address about the Rangers of Point du Hoc:

...The Rangers looked up and saw the enemy soldiers at the edge of the cliffs, shooting down at them with machine guns and throwing grenades. And the American Rangers began to climb...

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Comments

[jordan]

What a great reminder that if today's media had covered the landings and casualties like they're covering Haditha and the war in general, WWII would have been lost. How easily could D-Day have been framed as a colossal blunder, rather than the beginning of the end for Hitler.

[THIRDWAVEDAVE]

The post-dated letters and the good chow--that just about tells it all; these guys knew what they were up against and what it might cost. Sobering.

[FbL]

Dave, for the paratroopers it wasn't just the fire on the ground that awaited them, it was merely the getting to the ground. I left this comment at Argghhh, but I thought I'd share it here, too:

I recently met my cousin's father-in-law-to-be. At dinner we discussed thrill-seekers and the subject of parachuting came up. He said that pilots during the early days of wartime parachuting would often either fly too low (resulting in unopened parachutes), or panic under fire and start climbing while depositing paratroopers, with the result that jumpers would be hit by the tail/wing of the plane as they leapt. He said that the rate of death among paratroopers in training and combat was thus horrendous. This was all communicated with authority and to explain how much safer parachuting was these days.

At the time he said it, I didn't know what war he was referring to, or even that he was a vet. When I later asked if he was a vet, he simply held up two fingers. I said, "two tours in Vietnam?" I found out he was much older than he looked, for he shook his head and said, "No Vietnam. Two wars," and walked away without another word.

I later confirmed with family that he was in WWII and Korea as a paratrooper, and that I probably shouldn't have asked.

[Britt]

One of the greatest losses of history happened on D-Day. A photographer landed with the first wave, took 50 photos, and left. The tech screwed up and only 4 came out. They are the only photos of D-Day.

Thats war reporting. Not this Bagdahd Hotel bullshit. Landing into the biggest fight with nothing but a camera takes guts.

[Ken Summers]

Apologies. My MT doesn't seem to realize it has already sent trackbacks and insists on sending again every time I update the post.

[Sticker]

They shall not grow old,
As we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn,
At the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We will remember them

Even though the days have drifted by we have to remember the sacrifice and dedication to the men who fought for our freedom 62 years ago. I associate special significance as my father served on D-Day, landing at Pegasus Bridge with the Ox & Bucks Light Infantry. read more about his involvement at http://www.rantspace.co.uk/?p=262

[BloodSpite]

Thanks for the link, sir!

[AST]

The best way to remember D-Day consists of two words:

"Earn this!"

I didn't serve in the military, partly because of poor health and partly because of the lottery, but I have always felt that I owe this country and those who have defended our freedoms more than I can ever repay. I envy you warriors.

[Howard Cutter]

Recollections of my visit to Normandy on Sunday, June 10, 1984

“These are the boys of Pointe Du Hock. These are the men who took the cliffs. These are the champions who helped free a continent. These are the heroes who helped end a war.” Ronald Reagan, June 6, 1984, Normandy, France

When President Reagan made these deeply moving remarks on a warm Wednesday afternoon in Normandy, I was less than two hundred miles to the east, at Fontainebleau. Thanks to IBM, I was coasting through a month-long advanced management school at a graduate business school known as INSEAD.

What a coincidence of time and place. Ten years earlier, almost to the day; I was in Paris. To be more precise, I was in the international arrivals baggage claim area at the Charles de Gaulle International Airport, just killing time. My wife’s scheduled early-morning arrival from New York was running late. We were meeting in Paris to begin a holiday in the south of France. My new job with IBM’s Advanced Systems Development Division in New York had served up a softball opportunity to gather international requirements for future systems. This was my second trip to Paris in less than a year.

Under a sign that announced the arrival of checked baggage from Los Angeles, I noticed a fit, middle-aged couple collecting their belongings. They arrived with only bicycles, saddle bags, and backpacks. As they changed into riding clothes, checked their water bottles, hoisted day-glow warning flags above their bikes, and retrieved carefully-marked maps, I couldn’t help asking “What’s up?” Turns out he was returning to France for the first time since his original visit in 1944, there to rejoin his “band-of-brothers” in Normandy. They were men that he had not seen for thirty years.

Then, without so much as a sign of hesitation as they said a quick “Goodbye”, off they went. Rather than walking their bikes to the exit, they peddled away from within the airport, triggered automatic sliding-door opener to the outside, where they successfully merged into Paris-bound automobile traffic, heading south and west toward Normandy. I prayed for their safe journey and return home.

Cornelius Ryan’s first book, The Longest Day, published in 1959, sold 4 million copies in 27 editions and was made into a 1962 film, The Longest Day, by Darryl Zanuck. The film includes a memorable scene, set in a German gun emplacement bunker atop Pointe Du Hock. Dawn is approaching. The date is June 6, 1944. A thin layer of mist obscures the view to the west, as a Nazi soldier inside the bunker scans the English Channel through binoculars for any sign of the invasion. Slowly, the sky clears, revealing the first wave of an approaching Allied armada of over 6,000 ships.

On June 6, 1984, just after one o’clock in the afternoon, President and Mrs. Reagan stared out from what must have been the very same bunker into the English Channel. The Reagans must have been trying to imagine what it would have been like to have been here at dawn, four decades earlier. Then, President Reagan delivered the magnificent Boys of Pointe Du Hock address. D-day veterans of the U.S. 2nd Ranger Battalion, were front and center, trying their best to not tear up in front of the worldwide television audience.

It was a dramatic moment. Live French TV covered it all. Back in my school’s coffee shop in Fontainebleau, I watched and listened to it all. Classes may have been cancelled for the occasion, but more likely, I was just cutting class to soak in the moving tribute.

Normandy was where I wanted to be.

Classes normally wound up the week shortly after lunch on Saturdays. By Friday afternoon, I had already picked up a rental car. So by mid-afternoon Saturday, I was on the road, heading west. My plan was to overnight somewhere near Normandy and to begin my D-Day pilgrimage at Pointe Du Hock, early Sunday morning, hopefully before dawn.

The village of Vire, in the Calvados Region, would be home base for the evening. I checked into a simple hotel, which had a well regarded dining room. I paid for everything in advance, wanting to ensure a trouble-free get-away, early the next morning. My evening meal was agreeable. I turned in early, falling asleep with Normandy road maps in hand.

Shortly after 5 AM on Sunday morning, I grabbed my duffle and quietly headed to the darkened ground-floor lobby. Everything seemed to be on track. That is, until I tried to open the hotel’s front door. Looking out through its beveled glass window panes, my car was in sight just ahead, at the curb, just across the street. But the front door was locked. Not simply locked. Locked by a large, old-fashioned brass key, which was nowhere in sight.

I turned back into the empty ground-floor dining room. The windows there seemed to overlook a side street. Contemplating this alternate way out, I opened a dining room window to the outside. Unfortunately, the street below sloped away toward the rear of the building, making a jump to the sidewalk like one that only a young airborne-infantry-ranger would attempt from a second-floor jump tower. If I were to survive such a jump, I could live to be 51 in December.

Were there other options? The kitchen’s door to the outside was also locked. Certainly there must be a resident manager asleep somewhere within? As I ran past all 24 guest rooms on both floors, I tried not to wake up the guests, just the night manager. And still, not a hint of anyone there to help with my escape. I must have been too quiet. Not a single door opened. Time was not on my side.

Back in the lobby, I said “Where would I hide the front-door key here?” And there it was, hanging on a nail just to the right of the pigeon-hole style guest mail boxes, fastened to the wall behind the well-worn front desk. It worked! I left the key in the lock incase anyone else was on an early-morning pilgrimage. The night sky was beginning to wane. With luck, I could still make Normandy by dawn.

Who would have guessed that the entrance to the parking area nearest the Pointe Du Hock site would be opened before 7:00 AM, when I arrived? But there it was, wide open, saying “Come on in.” One or two other cars were already there. Off I marched, looking for Pointe Du Hock through the dawn’s light mist. And suddenly, there it was … the bunker that I had seen on TV earlier this week; and also in Zanuck’s film, more than 20 years earlier.

For a time, I had the bunker and the point all to myself. I peered through the slit in the seaward face of the bunker. The concrete must have been eight feet thick. The sea was calm. The tide was out, perfect for an amphibious landing. No one was there here to interfere with those who came to scale the cliffs. Only a few trawlers were visible toward the horizon, apparently returning to port with a night’s catch. Omaha Beach and the village of Verville were now visible to the east. Utah beach was visible to the west, just beyond the inlet leading to Carentan. All was quiet at this “… place of great sanctity and meaning.”

As I began to grasp where I was and all that had gone on before, I took some time to just wander around. There was temporary scaffolding around the site, presumably for use by television cameras and the working press on the Wednesday just past. No hurry to break it down and haul it off? Gradually, more pilgrims arrived. We all seemed to share an unmistakable countenance of quiet gratitude for just being here.

After leaving Pointe Du Hock, I drove west to Ste.-Mere- Eglise. Zanuck’s film also includes a memorable scene, set in the early-morning, in the town square. Townspeople are manning a bucket-brigade line, trying to put out several fires caused by Allied bombing raids. Occupying Germans stand guard over the work at hand. Then shortly before 2 AM, a second wave of U.S. airborne-infantry from the 82nd unluckily lands in the middle of the town square. Many are killed before they land. One is caught on the slate roof of the church by his parachute, which has been impaled by the church steeple.

When I walked into the town square that Sunday morning, it was still there. On the church steeple, there hung a bright, white, fresh U.S. parachute. You get the feeling that they must install a new one every day. Today, the townspeople were manning a welcoming brigade. American visitors seemed to be on their A-list. If you ever feel that you have been disrespected in France, simply because you’re an American, give Ste.-Mere- Eglise a try.

It was time to visit the American cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mere. After the speeches on Wednesday, the President and Mrs. Reagan had placed flowers on the grave of Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. As I walked by his orderly white cross, it looked just like all the others, except for the fading floral tribute on the grass in front. It was still there, untouched, almost four days later. Who knows, it may be there still.

Reluctantly, I sensed an obligation to return to Fontainebleau in time for Monday morning’s class. As I found the road to the east, something caused me to pull up short. A shiny black Mercedes sedan had pulled off the road in front of an unadorned stone gate. The license plates were German. As the occupants left the Mercedes and headed toward the gate, two older men lead the way. One walked with the aid of a cane.

At a respectful distance, I followed their path through the gate, inside the wall. The well cared-for grassy field was at least as large as the American cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mere. At first, the area looked like practice soccer fields, set side-by- side, and end- to-end. But there were small, dark stone crosses set flush into the field. This was a German cemetery at Normandy. Later I would learn, it was one of many.

Not sure what the bottom line was then, nor what it is now. Still trying to figure things out.

[Winger]

This is long.

Every year I send out something like this to guys I used to fall out of planes with:

When paratroopers are "sitting around the campfire" and the subject of "which jump would you want to be on" comes up, invariably everyone agrees Normandy is it. Me too, when I was young.

Back then I didn't worry about a fly-in and jump under heavy anti-aircraft fire, landing in a swamp with all my equipment on, separated from any friendlies and far from my assigned DZ because an Air Force transport pilot thought he was more valuable than me.

No. I saw it as just another blast w/combat equipment. We'd be smiling as the girls kissed us in the square of Ste. Mere Eglise in the morning, our nice, white teeth contrasting oddly with the green camo stick on our faces. You know, right there at Kilo Un of the Liberation Road. That should have been a warning. The beginning, not the end. But I didn't think of it that way.

I stopped that after my first crash-and-burn LZ, where I almost died and the crew of the helicopter I was in did. It made me truly appreciate what the men of Normandy went through.

I was extracted from the war zone and in a hospital in less than an hour and a half and was saved. A lot of the WW2 troops weren't. I was lucky.

The troops of the US 82nd, 101st and British 6th Airborne Divisions, of the US 1st, 4th, and 29th Infantry Divisions, the Canadian 3rd, the British 3rd and 50th Divisions, they thought they were bullet proof in the beginning, just like me. We went willingly.

In this modern day and age, with the emphasis on self, a hedonistic life style and actors in their upper 30's or 40's playing the lead roles in movies about Normandy, it's sometimes difficult to remember the real guys were just boys, a lot of them teenagers. I know because I was just a boy when I did it too. They risked it all in a high stakes game and like Americans always do, despite the little-minded naysayers of the world, we won because we were right. People nowadays had better not lose that.

If the liberals, whatever, of this country think that we're doing it wrong in Iraq, maybe it's because they're hiding safely somewhere and leaving the hard part to others. Maybe they need to be out there in the dark, sweating, with their safeties off, ready to put some of those fine ideals into action. Those boys at Normandy did. God Bless Them.

Other People's Words:
"Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom must, like men, undergo the fatigue of supporting it."

Thomas Paine (1737-1809), 'The American Crisis' 23 December 1776

So on June the 5th, later in the evening, I went out in the backyard, in the dark. I tried to imagine what the atmosphere must have been like at the departure airfield, in the planes as they crossed the Channel, as they stood up and hooked up as they came within range of German anti-aircraft.

I tried to understand what it must have been like to be bouncing around because of the nearby detonation of AAA shells with shrapnel hitting your plane with the pilots twisting and turning, trying to avoid the fire. I think no one was bothered about how heavy their gear was then – they just wanted off that effing plane! They wanted to be fighters, not targets. Red light to green light must have been an eternity.

I thought of the choices they had once they hit the ground, separated from unit, buddies, maybe from their equipment and probably lost and/or disoriented, in the dark. Fortunately for us, these were paratroopers and they moved to the sound of the guns. I think I have an idea now.

I can't even imagine coming in on a plywood boat. I'd puke before I ever got aboard. Those guys were brave beyond belief.

Always remember that most these heroes had no combat and comparatively little military experience. We owe them a great deal that we can never repay.

"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."

George Orwell

[AngelinMI]

How soon people forget about D-Day, and how sad...all people could talk about at my work was todays date being 6/6/06 like the beast was coming or something like that.

[kapnketel]

By now 60 years ago two telegrams were on their way to my great grandmother advising that two of her sons were lost on the beaches of Normandy. Two people I never got to know, two young men my family never saw again. I am a very lucky man, I have never had to make the ultimate sacrafice, my son and daughter have never had to do the same. My fortune is because others paid the price for my freedom. How do I say thank you? I get to go to work in peace, eat in peace, laugh in peace, vote in peace, complain about my government in peace...

The day of days is beyond my comprehension or understanding.

Thank you seems to be too little, too small. How do I express it?

[Lisa Gilliam]

How come nobody is discussing the Battle of Midway!it was also raging about this time too.

[jordan]

"These are the men that took the cliffs."

I remember the shots of the grizzled veterans wiping their eyes. Reagan gave the country a moment to remember that day.

[Uzz]

My father was there on D-Day and my mother said he rarely spoke about it. Sadly he died in 1968 when I was only 1 year old, but I am the one in the family that keeps his memory and achievements alive. He went in at D-Day...fought up and through the Battle of the Bulge and was captured by the Nazis in Belgium. I have some amazing stories of what happened to him when he was captured...from the cattle trains to the camps...it was amazing that this man and so many others were willing to give their lives for the freedoms we treasure...God Bless you all!!!

Uzz

[John Hash]

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[becky]

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[Carol]

Please, I have a neighbour who looks like the airman in the picture at the top of this page. Does anyone emember the name of the airman in the picture. I live in a small town in Southern IL. If someone could help me with the name I would be most grateful. Thank you to all of our veterans then and now. With many prayers, Thanks

[Duc Anh]

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[JAYNE]

hi im trying to trace two rangers who took part in the d day landings the names are peter cavanola and earl dyson they were best friends if anyone can help i would be very greatful thanks xxxxxx

[harold brouelette]

I am looking for any information about operation tiger and LST 289 -I was aboard the LST when we were attacked and have no memory of what happened to myself. I was treated in a hospital and have never been able to find any of this information. The doctor in the hospital told me I probably would not remember. This loss of time has always bothered me and would like to piece togeather the time line and what happened