Normandy: Sobering, Beautiful

One of the places I had longed to visit in France was Omaha Beach and the Norman countryside. And, I must admit, my reasons for doing so were both historical and personal.

Several years ago, WKAR produced two World War II documentaries, one of which focused on the European theatre. During the course of production, I edited transcripts of many veterans who had served and shared their experiences. (You can see them here if you're interested.)

Several spoke of D-Day and Normandy and the coastal towns they lived and fought in following the invasion. It had indeed become personal.

Our trip to Normandy began early on a Sunday morning, with a fairly long drive, punctuated by stops at town "foires" -- a combination of town flea market and fair with rides and food.

(More on these in another post on flea markets, but I had some fun finds!)

Our first destination was the Omaha Beach Museum. It was fairly small, but with lots of artifacts, clippings, photographs and life-size diarama scenes.

The pieces in the museum told the story --

...from the landing to the resistance.

The emphasis wasn't on the equipment used (although there were certainly examples of the various arms and mortars, uniforms and helmets),

... but of the people who fought so bravely.

From there we moved on to the American Cemetery. This is truly hallowed ground, and it is impossible not to be moved by the elegant symmetry and simplicity of this final resting place for so many American soldiers.

I was particularly touched by flowers, left behind. Long past their peak, they remain, memorials and testimonials to a given soldier from -- who knows? A family member? A friend? A comrade in arms?

The cemetery is set on a high bluff overlooking Omaha Beach. I'm not sure you can tell from the photo just how far and how high that bluff is, but to be arriving on a boat in wretched weather, knowing the enemy was waiting for you on that bluff had to be frightening indeed.

Think of running up sand dunes -- it isn't easy. Add full fighting gear. It must have been a daunting task.

Now there are steps going down to the beach. Lots of them. Many of the pilgrims to the cemetery went down, as did I. Simply touching the sand, feeling that ground that had touched the feet of soldiers 65 years ago, was a sobering and moving experience.

And for some reason, the only family having a picnic here had a young girl in the family, who delighted in the broad expanse of beach. To me, she represented the purity, the future. After all, isn't it family we fight for most of all?

After leaving Omaha Beach and a stop at a German stronghold, we passed by this old church, named (as so many churches are in France) "Notre Dame."

It had been damaged in the war, and soldiers restored it.

I was rather capitvated by its stone work...

...and the heavy wooden door.

Then it was off to the beach at Arromanches, where some old German boat hulls, rusted and covered with algae, still rest in the waters at the shoreline.

One could easily visualize the soldiers in combat in these treacherous waters.

Our dinner destination was the town of Honfleur, about two hours away, perhaps. It's a port town, with LeHarve on the other side.

We expected it to be the quietly bustling town Jerry remembered. But they were in the middle of a music festival and it was more than a bit manic!

Finally, after 11 p.m., we found an outdoor restaurant on the water.

A look at the menu yielded promising options!

And of course, I had to sample the escargot! I'd been dying to try snails since long before my trip began, inspired by a commentary in Peter Mayle's book "French Lessons."

And oh, he was so very right! Succulent, delicious. Garlic and herbs with that bit of snail. I'd do it again in a heartbeat!

Things I Learned Today:

Snails. Yum.

The writing "s/" means "sur" or "on the" -- "Sur La Mer" might be written s/Mer. Lots of the towns here were on the sea.

There are several women (nurses) buried in the American Cemetery.

I really never expected to be so moved as I was by a place such as this.

The best raspberries I've ever eaten were found at a foire en route to Normandy. I wish I had more!