I gave that wonderful book written by Tom Brokaw to Dad for Christmas a few years back.

A Trip to Normandy....

After a full-day guided tour with 14 other World War ll buffs, I can say w/o a doubt--so true.

The Greatest Generation.......Our Parents.......

How anyone survived that D-Day onslaught?  Since I was a kid, hitting Omaha Beach had been a dream of mine, and being in pretty good shape I did what I always said I would do if I ever made it there--I slipped ankle deep into the tide and sprinted to the slopping bank a hundred yards away, reaching safety against concrete slabs. But I don't think I would have made it back then--withering machine gun fire would have surely cut me down. The astounding courage of that generation! Our parent's generation......

 

This morning, while standing by myself and looking down that long and lonely stretch of Omaha Beach, there were chilling thoughts, then an overwhelming sense of pride.  And a pressing question in my mine--Could I have done that?

My father came ashore (not far from where I stood) a few months after D-Day, but he never talked much about the war. He was stationed in Paris after the invasion, a Lieutenant in the Quartermaster Corps.  One evening during his declining years, as the two of us sat together watching Andy Griffith on television, he suddenly opened up a little--a brief news report about the running of the bulls at Pamplona seemed to have been the needed impetus. "I went there,” he said, pointing at the TV screen. I was a bit startled.  Apparently my dad and his army pals drove down from Paris during a break from the war. My accountant father was at the running of the bulls?  From right out of Ernest Hemingway—my dad?  But he couldn’t remember actually running the bulls, maybe just viewing from a safe spot.  However, as the years have gone by, in my mine my father was a part of that greatest of generations—to me, of course, he ran those bulls and led the way at Normandy, too.

Those troops landed in the face of 85 machine gun positions, Omaha beach was protected by 1100 fortified Nazi regulars, the Allied bombs missed their targets, the naval bombardment missed as well, the U.S.landing ship rockets fell short, most of the tanks (fitted with float screens) sank in the rough sea, and the first wave of brave Americans was decimated, losing nearly everyone.

Very little went right for the Americans on Omaha Beach that longest of days, but the on-site commanders finally figured it out, and with the help of a couple of Sherman tanks and the U.S. Rangers they found an opening and penetrated it, circled the Nazis from behind and finally won the day, a day that took 36 hours.  Breath-taking adventure for me. Thanks Dad, thanks to all our dads. 

I just finished a wonderful French buffet breakfast with all kinds of pastries and jams and honey, an omelet, fresh fruit, cereal with bananas and yogurt and milk, apple juice and orange juice and a couple of cups of strong coffee. Now off for a hike/bicycle-ride through Bayeux and the surrounding countryside--so beautiful and green here.

If you haven't seen the 9-part Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg series Band of Brothers, I recommend it. The main character (Major Richard <Dick> Winters) is a real life figure in the Normandy invasion, and a gallant hero in every sense of the word. Wonderful series--will have you planning a French vacation :-).  Our guide based his tour on that series and we relived the battle scenes as we followed where the 101st paratroopers landed (with Winters) and made our way through those charming little French country-side villages towards the beaches. The movie, The Longest Day, came to mind as we stopped in the Village of Sainte-Mere-Eglisee where Private John Steele (played by Red Buttons) of the 82nd Airborne landed on the pinnacle of the church tower. Our Welsh guide took us on a remarkable and memorable tour.

As we look to our reunion next year, we do have big shoes to fill, but I think we are on track.  :-)

Tomorrow I leave Bayeux for Paris, then Addis Ababa again.

Hope everyone is well.

Dan(ny)

Dan,

Just reread your piece on Normandy.  I was just 5 yrs. old when my parents took us to Omaha Beach.  I played on one of the old rusting landing craft that was still on the beach.  I went up to the pilot house and tried to turn the rusted ship's wheel. I'll have to change the size of the pics before I can post them. Here is one of my dad during the war.  He was a captain in the Army Air Force Medical Corps.  He was lucky that he never saw combat.  He taught medics how to save lives.  I gave him the same book you gave your dad and now I have it.  He passed away at 89 yrs. young in 2003.  My grandpa Barry, whom I am named after, was a Colonel in the Army during the war.  Most of the time he was in India, but after the war he was post commander of an Army post in Orleans, France, only an hour or so from Paris.  My grandparents lived in a villa outside of town in the country.  They had a married couple as caretaker and maid, horses, a pond where we fished, and a beautiful home to live in.  We left South Dakota and spent the whole summer with them traveling around post war Europe. I converted all the slides my dad took to jpeg format.

Dan, 

Here is a picture of me on Omaha Beach with several severely rusted landing craft still hanging on to their lives. It's amazing that no one cut them up with a welding torch to sell the scrap. This was 1955, 10 years after the war.

Dan,

Here is another one with me inside the landing craft pilot house.  I have no idea how I climbed up there.  My mom must have helped me. If these old boats could talk what stories would they have to tell?  I wonder how many years they lay there on the beach before they disappeared.  Maybe the French declared all the landing beaches as national parks and no one was allowed to alter them.

What a great photo, Barry, and the other one too.  Little Barry playing on Omaha Beach--Wow! 

Lucky, proud little kid with proud parents I'm sure.  :-)

That's a good-looking soldier.  Can see Barry in his face.  :-)

My mom and sister with me in Normandy on Omaha Beach June 1955.