On Memorial Day weekend I was in Normandy, France – the site of Operation Overlord’s 6 June 1944 invasion of the European Continent, coined ‘D-day’ by Supreme Allied Commander, US General Ike Eisenhower. The mission’s objective was to push back the German Reich and their allies’ forces who were occupying all of France and most of Western Europe and Northern Africa. The Allies, composed of the Americans, British, Canadian and Fren
ch resistance forces, had a well executed and precision plan which included pre-invasion bombardments of strategic points along the Atlantic Seawall, paratroopers swarming into place beyond the enemy lines, and fake tanks and parachutes designed to convince the Nazis that the Allies were going to launch an invasion across a narrow point along the English Channel, instead of the actual location.
The 5th of June 1944 saw a terrible storm; weather service reports predicted a break in the storm for the morning of the 6th. The order was given and the troops were informed this was to be the day, D-day! Just after Mid-night on the early-morning of the 6th, American and British paratroopers boarded gliders which would take them behind the enemy lines with the objective of eliminating German bunkers, whose guns could impose significant damage on the landing parties. The British 6th Airborne Division secured the area around Ranville and Bénouville bridges, while America’s 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions in took control in northern Cotentin (the Cherbourg peninsula) near Sainte-Mère-Église and Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. During the early hours of the morning, while troops were preparing for the landing, the Allied aviation forces dropped several thousand bombs along the Norman coast, especially at Pointe du Hoc, where the Germans had artillery that could have hampered the American landings at Utah and Omaha beaches.
By 05h30, the Allied battleships began shelling the coastal defences and the first landing crafts prepared for landing on the sands of Normandy. At 06h30, under heavy German fire and a low tide, the Americans launched their assault on the beaches in the Utah sector and subsequently the Omaha sector. An hour later, the British forces landed at Gold beach (Le Hamel) and Sword beach (between Lion-sur-Mer and the mouth of the Orne river). The Canadians landed in the Juno beach sector (Bernières and Saint-Aubin). Many French, who were part of the Free French Forces, participated in the landing at Sword beach, alongside the British troops.
The Germany troops were overwhelmed by the size and organization of the Allied invasion, though there advantageous position allowed for deadly, but ultimately feeble opposition. On the beaches of Omaha, the Americans lost 2,500 men on 6 June 1944 alone, ten times more than were killed on Utah beach. The most catastrophic losses were at Pointe du Hoc (between Omaha and Utah beaches), the Army Rangers scaled the cliffs using rope ladders and as one soldier was killed by a German sniper, another would climb to take his place. The disappointment of Pointe du Hoc was that the artillery the Americans were attempting to destroy was not actually inside the German bunker and the assumed threat to the landing forces was not eminent. At the 40th anniversary of D-day, President Ronald Reagan recounted the bravery of the Rangers who sacrificed everything to ensure the landing was a success.
By the evening of 6th June 1944, over 156,000 men and 20,000 vehicles had landed on the shores of Normandy, the largest single invasion in the history of the world. The five beaches besieged, were all under Allied control by night fall and some troops had succeeded in advancing up to a few kilometres inland. From this point forward Operation Overlord had ended and the Battle of Normandy had begun. On the 7th June 1944, the town of Bayeux was first liberated by British infantry. It took a little over a month for the Allied forces to liberate Caen, a mere 40 kilometres from Bayeux.
I toured the D-day beaches of Omaha, Utah, and Arromanches (Gold). I wondered what it would have been like to have been an American soldier landing on these beaches and then having to walk through the French countryside in fear of the unknown, a Germany enemy, a population that doesn’t speak your native language, and the physical endurance of walking with a loaded rucksack. Little did I know, within 24 hours of those thoughts, I would be experiencing many of those same feelings.
I had caught a ride with a French couple, Guillaume and Emmanuelle, whom I had met during my D-day tour, from Caen (where I was staying) to Bayeux, a little village famous for its nearly 1,000 year old tapestry depicting the victory of William, Duke of Normandy, over Harold, King of England, at the Battle of Hastings in 1066. I had purchased a train ticket to return to Caen, when I arrived at the train station I was informed there was a rail strike so I decided to take the bus back, unfortunately the service had terminated for the day, as it was the weekend. I contemplated a taxi, but as my luck would have it, there were none in this village, so I opted to hitch-hike!
Never having hitch-hiked before, I figured it was easy, stick your thumb out and wait for a passing car to stop – my bad luck prevailed! A car stopped, I walked to the window, the driver was half-shaven and wearing a blue dress and red lipstick, along with blood-shot eyes – a transvestite!!! He/she yelled at me in French when I did not get in the car (my heart and mind said BAD IDEA!!). I opted to run up the hill, leaving the four-lane highway and the transvestite to fend for themselves. The meandering country roads looked safer as darkness set-in and my mind began conjuring up the fears of the unknown. I was now in a Robert Louis Stevenson adventure tale of my own, only this time it included talking with French farmers at mid-night and having them not understand a word of my broken French, calling my hotel and facing the same barrier, and thinking to myself – I should have studied a bit harder in my French classes or talked more in French with my French speaking friends, such as Diane, Sego, Claire, Dorian or Quintin.
It was around dusk at this point and I decided to get off the main highway and walk back to Cain using my iPhone’s map as my guide. The walk was 40 kilometres and I managed to walk that distance in under 6 hours, only getting lost around a farm field once, and be in bed by 2 AM!! With the exception of paying a prostitute to help me get un-lost a few days earlier in Paris and the UK Border Authority detaining me for 3 ½ hours prior to boarding the Eurostar bound for London, the long-walk in the middle of the night added to the randomness of my French holiday – which is now included in the cannon of legendary tales surrounding my life.
ch resistance forces, had a well executed and precision plan which included pre-invasion bombardments of strategic points along the Atlantic Seawall, paratroopers swarming into place beyond the enemy lines, and fake tanks and parachutes designed to convince the Nazis that the Allies were going to launch an invasion across a narrow point along the English Channel, instead of the actual location.The 5th of June 1944 saw a terrible storm; weather service reports predicted a break in the storm for the morning of the 6th. The order was given and the troops were informed this was to be the day, D-day! Just after Mid-night on the early-morning of the 6th, American and British paratroopers boarded gliders which would take them behind the enemy lines with the objective of eliminating German bunkers, whose guns could impose significant damage on the landing parties. The British 6th Airborne Division secured the area around Ranville and Bénouville bridges, while America’s 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions in took control in northern Cotentin (the Cherbourg peninsula) near Sainte-Mère-Église and Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. During the early hours of the morning, while troops were preparing for the landing, the Allied aviation forces dropped several thousand bombs along the Norman coast, especially at Pointe du Hoc, where the Germans had artillery that could have hampered the American landings at Utah and Omaha beaches.
By 05h30, the Allied battleships began shelling the coastal defences and the first landing crafts prepared for landing on the sands of Normandy. At 06h30, under heavy German fire and a low tide, the Americans launched their assault on the beaches in the Utah sector and subsequently the Omaha sector. An hour later, the British forces landed at Gold beach (Le Hamel) and Sword beach (between Lion-sur-Mer and the mouth of the Orne river). The Canadians landed in the Juno beach sector (Bernières and Saint-Aubin). Many French, who were part of the Free French Forces, participated in the landing at Sword beach, alongside the British troops.
The Germany troops were overwhelmed by the size and organization of the Allied invasion, though there advantageous position allowed for deadly, but ultimately feeble opposition. On the beaches of Omaha, the Americans lost 2,500 men on 6 June 1944 alone, ten times more than were killed on Utah beach. The most catastrophic losses were at Pointe du Hoc (between Omaha and Utah beaches), the Army Rangers scaled the cliffs using rope ladders and as one soldier was killed by a German sniper, another would climb to take his place. The disappointment of Pointe du Hoc was that the artillery the Americans were attempting to destroy was not actually inside the German bunker and the assumed threat to the landing forces was not eminent. At the 40th anniversary of D-day, President Ronald Reagan recounted the bravery of the Rangers who sacrificed everything to ensure the landing was a success.By the evening of 6th June 1944, over 156,000 men and 20,000 vehicles had landed on the shores of Normandy, the largest single invasion in the history of the world. The five beaches besieged, were all under Allied control by night fall and some troops had succeeded in advancing up to a few kilometres inland. From this point forward Operation Overlord had ended and the Battle of Normandy had begun. On the 7th June 1944, the town of Bayeux was first liberated by British infantry. It took a little over a month for the Allied forces to liberate Caen, a mere 40 kilometres from Bayeux.
I toured the D-day beaches of Omaha, Utah, and Arromanches (Gold). I wondered what it would have been like to have been an American soldier landing on these beaches and then having to walk through the French countryside in fear of the unknown, a Germany enemy, a population that doesn’t speak your native language, and the physical endurance of walking with a loaded rucksack. Little did I know, within 24 hours of those thoughts, I would be experiencing many of those same feelings.
I had caught a ride with a French couple, Guillaume and Emmanuelle, whom I had met during my D-day tour, from Caen (where I was staying) to Bayeux, a little village famous for its nearly 1,000 year old tapestry depicting the victory of William, Duke of Normandy, over Harold, King of England, at the Battle of Hastings in 1066. I had purchased a train ticket to return to Caen, when I arrived at the train station I was informed there was a rail strike so I decided to take the bus back, unfortunately the service had terminated for the day, as it was the weekend. I contemplated a taxi, but as my luck would have it, there were none in this village, so I opted to hitch-hike!
Never having hitch-hiked before, I figured it was easy, stick your thumb out and wait for a passing car to stop – my bad luck prevailed! A car stopped, I walked to the window, the driver was half-shaven and wearing a blue dress and red lipstick, along with blood-shot eyes – a transvestite!!! He/she yelled at me in French when I did not get in the car (my heart and mind said BAD IDEA!!). I opted to run up the hill, leaving the four-lane highway and the transvestite to fend for themselves. The meandering country roads looked safer as darkness set-in and my mind began conjuring up the fears of the unknown. I was now in a Robert Louis Stevenson adventure tale of my own, only this time it included talking with French farmers at mid-night and having them not understand a word of my broken French, calling my hotel and facing the same barrier, and thinking to myself – I should have studied a bit harder in my French classes or talked more in French with my French speaking friends, such as Diane, Sego, Claire, Dorian or Quintin.
It was around dusk at this point and I decided to get off the main highway and walk back to Cain using my iPhone’s map as my guide. The walk was 40 kilometres and I managed to walk that distance in under 6 hours, only getting lost around a farm field once, and be in bed by 2 AM!! With the exception of paying a prostitute to help me get un-lost a few days earlier in Paris and the UK Border Authority detaining me for 3 ½ hours prior to boarding the Eurostar bound for London, the long-walk in the middle of the night added to the randomness of my French holiday – which is now included in the cannon of legendary tales surrounding my life.
