(Editor’s note: Jeff VanDerford is a retired Sound Publishing employee who wrote for papers in the San Juan Islands and on Whidbey Island. He and his wife, Nancy, are currently touring Europe including a visit to Normandy. He shares his thoughts as we remember D-Day.)
Caen, France, May 15, 2014: You need a degree of imagination to visit Normandy 70 years after the Allied invasion of France on June 6, 1944. An endless procession of cars, campers and tour buses vie for space on the narrow highway that traverses the coast from Ouistreham west to the headland of Pointe du Hoc and Utah Beach.
This is a serious tourist destination for thousands of American, British, Canadian and French visitors; one can even detect a few German accents in the many restaurants that line the biggest town, Arromanches. We’ve made the pilgrimage as well; this is my wife Nancy’s and my first visit to France and though we enjoyed the culture of Paris, Monet’s home in Giverny and the architecture of Honfleur and Bayeux, it is the flat, sandy Normandy beaches that are the focus of our journey. As an American and a Vietnam veteran, it is an obligation I take seriously, to see these places and to remember the sacrifices made here.
During our visit, the weather has been cool and windy with frequent rain showers and sun breaks. Much the same as it was 70 years ago, the beaches are as quiet as when the Germans settled in to wait for the Allied invasion they knew was coming. But where? The smart money was on the Pas de Calais, closest to England, but others favored the Normandy coast, a closer route to Cherbourg (with its much-needed harbor facilities), Paris and the heart of Germany. German weathermen forecast a long period of storms moving in from the Atlantic. Figuring the invasion could not be pulled off until the tides were right in July, the prime architect of Hitler’s defenses, Erwin Rommel, was planning a trip home for his wife’s birthday, to be celebrated on June 6.
Yes, tourists crowd the museums and car parks today. But if you squint hard and turn your face north to the English Channel, pretending you’re a German army observer on a hill overlooking the sea, it’s possible to re-create in your mind’s eye the shock he must have felt that morning as thousands of naval and cargo ships emerged out of the mist. The massive invasion of Hitler’s vaunted Atlantic Wall was on and nearly 160,000 soldiers on board those ships were coming right at you. And then the guns began to fire, some of the shells 16 inches in diameter, and it was time to seek shelter.
And there was plenty of shelter. For the past four years, construction crews —virtually slave labor overseen by the Nazis — had been building massive steel-reinforced concrete bunkers that provided sweeping fields of fire any place the Germans thought the Allies would come ashore. The workhorse of German artillery, 88 mm anti-aircraft guns, were leveled and carefully sited to destroy any force foolish enough to attempt a landing. Bigger guns were placed behind the beaches; Hitler and his henchmen had planned for this day for years.
So had the Allies. The Normandy landings were the largest seaborne invasion in history, with nearly 5,000 landing and assault craft, 289 escort vessels and 277 minesweepers. It was truly a close run thing; in his pocket Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower had a press release telling the world the invasion had failed and the blame was his alone.
The French have kept the invasion code names for the 50 miles of beaches involved — Utah and Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword. Each has a museum of varied quality. We found it a bit odd, considering to whom they cater, that the folks in the tourist office and museum in Arromanches spoke no English. At Utah Beach’s museum, the guy taking our money had a strangely flippant attitude while the nearby cafe treated us like second-class citizens, going so far as to make a big fuss on the seating, though we were alone in the restaurant. Nancy believes some French still suffer from a latent case of inferiority complex; things haven’t gone well for the French military since Bonaparte and though officially grateful, a few ordinary folk may resent Americans for saving their bacon. Twice.
Wherever you are on this coast, you can’t help but notice a rocky headland jutting into the sea. On June 6, 226 men of the 2nd Ranger Battalion scaled the cliffs of Pointe du Hoc, seizing artillery and holding on in a fierce fight that left just 90 unwounded by the morning of the second day. The remnants of bunkers and gun emplacements line the top, and shards of steel rebar jaggedly point to the sky. A very dramatic scene indeed.
There’s a lot to see as you drive the scenic coast, past ancient walled farms and historic markers. Soon after British forces landed, steel-and-concrete floating caissons were sunk offshore at the seaside town of Arromanches to provide an artificial port for the tons of supplies needed to support the forces inland. The brainchild of Prime Minister Winston Churchill and code-named “Mulberries,” they formed a crescent in the harbor, which was dubbed Port Winston. They are still there, huge artifacts of war for visitors to examine in wonder. Another Mulberry was constructed at Omaha Beach but a terrific storm later in the month destroyed it.
Once the beachheads were established, the troops moved inshore, fighting the tough Germans all the way. Though intelligence and the French Resistance had reported what the lush Norman countryside was like, there were surprises, mainly in the form of bocage, thick hedgerows seven feet high and up to four feet thick. Combined with the church bell towers found in even the smallest village, the hedgerows — thousands of miles of them — were perfect spots for machine gun ambush and sniper fire. Even Sherman tanks were vulnerable, too wide for the narrow lanes and easy pickings for land mines and anti-tank guns.
I had seen these hedgerows depicted in films such as “The Longest Day” and “Band of Brothers” but never quite understood. In our tiny village of Mestry, I note the church tower provides a good vantage point to watch for advancing troops, and a fine perch for a sniper rifle. Each church and hedgerow had to be checked out for enemy presence, a time-consuming and dangerous process.
The crown jewel of Normandy is the American cemetery where 10,625 soldiers lay at rest in a perfectly-landscaped tribute to bravery and valor. It is on the bluff overlooking Omaha Beach with rows upon rows of crosses and Stars of David; their presence guaranteed to bring tears. The impressive museum has artifacts and videos detailing what happened here on the day, focusing on individuals such as the Niland brothers tragedy, the subject of the film “Saving Private Ryan.” The government of France granted use of this land in perpetuity without charge or taxation; we were pleased to see busloads of French schoolchildren on a field trip for an up-close and personal view of the sacrifice our nation made for theirs.
Overall, our Normandy experience did not disappoint. We’re glad we made the effort to come here and, yes — we will remember.
About the author:
Jeff VanDerford (above, left) started writing a column in 1999 for the Journal of the San Juan Islands, then was named sports editor in May 2000. He covered sports, schools, local government, business and the Port of Friday Harbor. In August 2005, he joined the South Whidbey Record, doing much the same, then retired in July 2010. He can be reached at jenabo670@whidbey.com.
