Okay, Let's Go

Eisenhower launched the D-Day invasion with that simple declarative making for a two front war and a drive to Berlin.  

On 6 June 1944, 160,00 airborne and amphibious American, British and Canadian troops assaulted the Norman beaches.  Nearly 10,000 Americans, including Teddy Roosevelt's son, are buried in what is now American soil on a cliff overlooking the choppy Channel and Omaha Beach.  

Our family received invitations from the French to attend the commemorative ceremony celebrating the 65th anniversary of the D-Day landings.  Our invitations stated that our presence was requested by Presidents Obama and Sarkozy, and Littlest was overjoyed at the prospect of meeting our President.

I cannot imagine what must have been the logistical nightmare of coordinating state visits for three heads of state outside of France's first family.  Per the invitation, we were instructed to arrive at a staging point in Caen in order to be ferried to the American Cemetery.  The staging point was closely guarded, and we boarded a coach amidst throngs of people celebrating Obama's visit.  In fact, many posters in town featured Obama's picture with the following caption:  "Yes, we Ca(e)n," which I thought was witty.  

Boarding the coach, J and I noticed that lunch had been provided (thankfully).  The long line of coaches was escorted by motorcade to Omaha Beach with guards and snipers positioned on overpasses and along the route which was closed to other vehicles.  As we neared the cemetery, I noticed that many roadside homes had strung American and British flags along stone walls and around doorways. Older residents lined the streets and nodded as the motorcade passed; I reckoned that some were old enough to have been suppressed under the German occupation and perhaps bore witness to the landings. Other homes fashioned First Armor Division's 'Big Red One' unit patch out of roses while still other homes propped hand-painted signs that read, "We will never forget," against fences.  Sixty-five years have done nothing to diminish the gratitude of the Norman people. 

The cemetery was closed to the general public, and attendees were invited to walk the grounds at will.  The kiddos walked through the rows of crosses taking time to read names, home states and dates of death always exclaiming aloud when a stone with 'New York, Indiana or Georgia' was spotted. Several battleships anchored in the channel near to the beach while amphibious vehicles like those used during the landings made their way along the shoreline.  

Several hours later, Presidents Obama and Sarkozy along with Prime Ministers Brown and Harper arrived on site with their spouses (and to the delight of the French people, Sarkozy brought his children along as well) via helicopter.  Prince Charles arrived by car.  

From the moment Littlest saw the Marine helicopter emblazoned with our flag, she repeatedly shouted with the utmost of ebullience, "Barack Obama, it's Barack Obama.  I'm going to see Barack Obama!"  The Frenchmen seated around us patted Littlest and found her enthusiasm charming.  I was taken aback by Littlest's ardor as she wasn't nearly as expressive when she saw Mickey Mouse at Disney World.  I wonder if she'll be a Democrat ;)

The official party made their way to the stage after speaking to veterans, and the singing of anthems (all anthems were performed by a French choir, and Bop giggled a bit as they sang, 'and zee rocket's red glare,' with a thick French accent), was followed by speeches (with Gordon Brown referring to the beach as 'Obama' beach which elicited a low snicker from the crowd) and a formal presentation of awards.  Bob Dole, who was present, was acknowledged by President Obama.  Tom Hanks, whose tireless efforts are largely responsible for the erection of a WWII memorial in Washington, D.C, was also present at the ceremony.  

The most moving part of the day did not rest with seeing the President but in meeting the D-Day veterans who seemed to have an inexplicable joie de vivre.  I became emotional as I listened to my children ask questions like, "Were you afraid?" and the response that followed, "No, I wasn't afraid; it was my duty, and I was proud to do it for my country."  Brokaw was not off the mark when he referred to these men (and women) as the greatest generation.  The humility of these men was confounding especially in light of today's culture where the word hero has little to no meaning as it is freely used and ill-applied in most cases.  

The ceremony concluded with a 21 gun salute, the playing of Taps, and a missing man formation flyover.  

Though I'd visited Normandy before, the ability to interact with the veteran's made the occasion poignant.  I'm grateful to have been invited.  

Kiddos on our coach

J and Kiddos with (then) PVT Kasse, a D-Day vet who jumped on 6 June.

This gentlemen danced a lively jig as the band played Glenn Miller standards while waiting for the arrival of the official party.   He, too, jumped into Normandy.

The ceremony was staged in front of the statue that is intended to represent the spirit of the American youth.

Kiddos with Channel and battleships in background

Reading the names of those who perished

Row upon row of the honored dead

J's first trip to the American Cemetery

"It's Barack Obama!"

Not far from the American cemetery is a German one funded solely through donations and maintained by French school children.  Evidently, their sacrifices were also quietly acknowledged as a wreath was placed at the entrance and a candle lit.