A Texan’s visit to Normandy uncovers Memorial Day’s true meaning | Opinion
To understand Memorial Day, I had to leave the country.
On the beaches of Normandy and in tiny French villages covered with American flags and memorials, I learned about the Allies’ courage in World War II, and about the horrible price.
But I also learned that our heroes now lie alone in silence.
Only a fraction of D-Day survivors are living. For a few years, family members avoided France, fearing terrorism.
“Tell the Americans to come to France,” war historian Henri Levaufre pleaded in 2016 in the tiny town of Périers, where the retired electrical engineer meticulously catalogs every keepsake and email from 90th Infantry Division veterans.
“We have your memories. We are keeping them here for you.”
My father was in the war, but across Europe.
He was a mess cook with the 45th Infantry Division, in beachfront landings at Salerno and Anzio, Italy.
Normandy beach landing took two years to plan
Now I know what that meant.
Normandy’s D-Day museums tell the story of June 6, 1944, and an invasion plan two years in the making.
On the cliffs above the beaches, I stood beside rusting German artillery weapons and crouched in cement bunkers, and imagined 24,000 Allied soldiers in small landing craft trying to fight their way in under heavy fire.
That’s where the movies stop. But dozens of markers and memorials across Normandy’s towns remember Allied heroes.
If only Americans would come back.
The first time Levaufre said that, I thought he was kidding.
A surprise French salute to an American tourist
I was still parking the Peugeot when Levaufre mentioned my wife, Shelly Seymour, and how her stepfather was the late decorated U.S. Army Capt. Hobby H. McCall.
Later, he introduced her to city officials: “She is from the United States of America!” he said as they applauded.
That morning, we had toured the Utah Beach D-Day Museum, recently expanded with support from former Texas Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst. His father led the final D-Day B-26 bombing run.
The crowd was thin, and only a few other visitors seemed to be Americans.
The day before, more American tourists had been wandering among the stunning field of 9,387 white crosses in the Normandy American Cemetery.
At another D-Day Museum at Arromanches, a short film describes the remarkable building of an Allied port.
The auditorium was filled for the French-language film.
But for the English version, we were the only two visitors.
The price of a countryside bed-and-breakfast in Normandy is a fraction of Paris prices — and in a historic farmhouse or manor house — and the people of the French countryside were consistently friendly.
Yes, it’s a nine-hour flight and a three-hour drive.
But the lesson about American soldiers’ bravery lasts a lifetime.
This story was originally published May 28, 2016 at 5:27 PM with the headline "A Texan’s visit to Normandy uncovers Memorial Day’s true meaning | Opinion."
