As anyone reading this blog probably knows, I just returned
from Paris. I with Lora, Maya, Lora’s
brother Mike, his wife Bev and my niece Lauren. It is hard to limit the number of
superlatives one can toss out about Paris, but, as wonderful as that city was,
the aspect of that trip that stands out the most in my mind today, was the side
trip that we all took to Normandy.
Bev's father had been a decorated American fighter pilot in
World War II. She had the diary that recorded in Hemingway-like sparseness, her
father’s experiences during the invasion of the Allied Forces into Normandy in
June of 1944 and wanted to visit the site where it had happened. As someone who refused to be drafted during
the Vietnam conflict, I've never been an aficionado of military history, but
the day we spent on the Normandy beaches made us all take some baby steps
towards the reality of the war for all those involved there. We set out from Bayeux where we were
staying, passing through the countryside where the German troops occupied the
small towns and French resistance fighters snuck out of their homes at night to
do whatever they could to thwart them.
We passed a church in one of the villages that is still being rebuilt
and others, our guide explained,
completely disappeared.
Our tour was limited to some of those beaches that American
soldiers breached - Utah, Pont Du Hoc
and Omaha. Walking across the landscape
where concrete bunkers and remnants of fortifications still sit and where the
surface of the land is still sculpted by the bombs that hit it gave a
materiality to the events that took place there that all of us felt. But for me, the moment that came closest to
revealing some clue of how it must have felt to be there on D-Day was when we
stood on Omaha beach at the edge of the water looking up at the cliffs where
the German guns were sitting on that day and knowing that the only way there
was to move was forward.
In the twenty-first century, everyone knows that history is not
a fact, but simply a narrative constructed by the winners to tell their
story. Even with the shards that we have
to build it from – the diaries, the abandoned bunkers, scared landscapes – it
is always going to be a protean tale.
Still, I think that having had the chance to visit the site where events
occurred that have long since been subsumed into American mythology gave me the
chance to toggle my own views. I still
won’t be rushing to join the Sons of the American Revolution, but at least, it
has given me a bit more of an ability to participate in the collective memory
that today, Veterans Day, represents. And,
if I’m not mistaken, that is what
national holidays are all about.
3 comments:
The sacrifices made by humans in war is tremendous. Not only in human lives physically lost but in death to the soul as well. People are forced to take actions which are against their own internal moral law. No matter how much they are told it was the right thing it still violates the innate human moral code within them. It is a different type of injury than PTSD and if some will pardon the use of my words it is an injury to the spirit or soul. This is the injury so many bring back from war, an injury that is not recognized and often prevents the person from becoming whole, unless dealt with. Our Dad served in the Navy for twenty years and experienced the horrors of WW II and Korea including the Pearl Harbor attack. As a young person I always thought that dad should have been proud of how he served and tried to engage him in stories. While he would talk about the navy and the people he served with and the places he traveled, he did not once recount a story about the war. I was surprised in my teen years, when it looked like I might be drafted to go to Vietnam, my father told me war is a terrible and horrible act and he opposed it. It took me a long time to truly understand how right my father was. I am extremely grateful for the sacrifices made by our Veterans and it is with thankfulness I honor them on this Veterans day and pray that wholeness may return to those who have been and are being ravaged by war.
Ed, thanks for your comments. You have seen/worked with more Veterans who have come back from war than I have, so thank you for you insights.One thing that you said to me was a revelation - the part about Dad saying that was terrible and he opposed it. I truly never knew that. When I moved back to California after and was summoned for the draft, I told Dad that I refused to go and explained my reasons. He basically said the equivalent of "You have to do what you think is right," but I've always felt really bad about that conversation, knowing how he had spent so much of his life in the Navy and had been at Pearl Harbor. I always thought he might have taken it as a rejection of his values. I feel a lot better knowing what you just said.
Bev Ventura writes via Facebook, "Very insightful, Mike. I am so glad we were able to visit Normandy (and we did not have to sleep in the train station! haha). I learned a lot and am so grateful for our Vets and glad I got to get a glimpse of what it was like for my Dad. Wonderful trip!"
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