MY TRIP TO FRANCE. Part Six: On Sacred Ground

Friday, June 1, 2012  

Day Six



On the road toward the coast.

Because my back was so painful last night, I decided to take a muscle relaxant.  It made me very sleepy, forcing me into bed at the early hour of 8:30pm.  I awoke this morning at 7:30 and after overcoming a very uncomfortable back and sides, I showered, stretched, took Ibuprophen and I am really hoping I can go through the day today without spoiling anything. 

This is the information plaque at Point du Hoc.

C130 aircraft flew over frequently.  It was always a thrill to see, hear and feel them.

Our breakfast was (for me) a hot chocolate at a café which was so fun trying to order.  The woman was a very patient and sweet hostess who got it right!  As we walked back to our room we stopped to buy a couple of mini-croissants, one with chocolate and one plain which we ate while in the car on the way to our first destination, which was Point du Hoc. 

All around the point we saw craters made by the bombs dropped the week before DDay.

Rachel looking out on the English Channel from Point du Hoc.

We spent the entire day together with the team, always one of the guys driving.  As we got out and walked to the actual location, there were several information boards to read.  This was the point between the two beaches, Omaha and Utah, after the air assault a week or so earlier and the parachute offense at the Chef du Pont and La Fière Bridge during the night, that at dawn, American Troops stormed the beaches.

 

Inside a bunker.  These places held ammunition for the huge guns.

 The 2^nd battalion of Rangers targeted this outcrop (a stronghold of the Germans who could see down the beaches on both sides) because the Germans had many guns which could cripple our forces.  Many things went wrong that day from timing to location and yet America and the Allied Forces managed to win.  Truly miraculous.  Many died trying to climb up to Pont du Hoc.  Of the 225 Rangers who ascended the hill, 90 survived.  Craters are still there all over the point.  Bunkers remain and a monument is on the very end.  It was very sobering and amazing.

Rachel, Noah, Aaron, John in front of the Point du Hoc Memorial, above the Point itself.

 We next drove to Omaha Beach where so many perished that day.  I was struck by the redness of the wet sand and the shallowness of the sea along the low tide.  Most of our time was spent on the sand, looking out at the sea where vessels came at dawn and vomited their cargo of men only to meet with barriers and a barrage of enemy fire.  No communication, only reconnaissance to look, inform and report: “I don’t know, but its bad.”  The empty beach had been full of bulwarks and barbed wire.  The scene had to be pure chaos.  Blood spilled all around.  And today I stood there on that beautiful beach where we began to turn the tide of the war, and of the world.  There are plaques, restaurants with photos, guides that tell the story.  France has not forgotten DDay. 

Looking north at the channel where our forces came ashore. 

We ate at the Casino (I don’t think it is a gambling place!) overlooking Omaha Beach.  Rachel and I split a pizza, which was called the Margarita.  There were other kinds of pizza but that was the one we wanted.  The crust was super thin and we folded it taco-style only once in half, and ate it that way.  Sooo good!  I finished off the vegetable soup John and Amy didn’t want. 

Looking east along Omaha Beach.

The next stop was the American Soldier’s Cemetery where 9,000+ are buried from World War 2.  It starts with a beautiful museum which has several videos, displays and information.  Nothing could have better prepared us for the walk through the grounds.

So reverent, so quiet, so beautiful is this spot, overlooking Omaha Beach.  They keep the grounds in immaculate shape, down to the trimmed grass around each of the 9,000 polished white granite crosses/stars.  The whiteness of the crosses, the perfection of the ground keeping, the excellent museum presentations is not what makes it what it is. It is the feeling you get when you are there, like there are 9,000 stories laying in that sacred spot.  It is the realization of the price that was paid that day, that week, that conflict.  I know that it brought me to my veritable knees and I will carry those visions and that feeling with me forever.  And I shall never forget their sacrifice. 

Not all the markers had names.

 We did some driving around with the team looking for the Chef du Pont (the other bridge the airborne were commissioned to take along with La Fière).  Another small bridge, now has a different name, same feeling of awe. 

The Bridge at Chef du Pont.

The Drop Zone ready for Sunday's big crowds.

When we got back to our Hotel we all struck out on our own for dinner.  Rachel and I walked to a café I had never been before.  Rachel had gone there last night with the team after I had gone to bed.  So we ordered what she had last night.  It was salmon that was prepared perfectly, tender with a butter/lemon sauce, tender potato cubes beside a creamy leek sauce.  We also ordered salad with the most delicious creamy dressing.  It was a perfect amount.  Then we splurged and got a crème brule again. 

On our evening walk back in Valognes.

It seems the blessings of Heaven are with me because I am able to keep on walking no matter what we do.  I don't think I have spoiled any of our trip so far.  In fact, I have done more than I had thought I could!  Now we’re hanging out in our room at 10:25pm.  The darkness is still not upon us!  Getting dusk.  Gotta sunburn.  

This is from my travel journal.

Some pages are still damp from the tears.