Tempest in a Teapot

Two years ago today, J & I had the great priviledge of attending the D-Day Remembrance ceremony at the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. It was a cold, dreary day, but that hadn’t stopped people from turning out in droves. Because J was in his dress blues, we were admitted to the seating area where we could see many of the veterans with their families.

It was an incredibly moving experience for me. In spite of it being my second visit to the cemetery, the rows & rows of crosses still made me weep. I can’t imagine how those young men felt as they approached the shore as they crossed the English Channel. The beach is such a peaceful, beautiful stretch of sand now, it is difficult to imagine how it looked that day 65 years ago now.

Before marrying J, I knew little about WW2 – mostly what I had seen in the movies, I’m afraid. I was familiar with the holocaust: many years ago, my parents took us to Germany (I was in high school; it was my first trip abroad) and we visited Dachau. It is difficult to grasp the enormity of what happened there, let alone in the other camps such as Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen.

During our 3.5 years in Germany, we visited many of the cemeteries and memorials that remain scattered across the Continent. One that I found particularly thought provoking was the German Ossuary that overlooks Mont St Michel. In my narrow minded way, I had forgotten to look at the war from the other side – and to consider the losses of the Germans.

I hope we never forget those who fought & died for freedom on the shores of France.