We randomly picked our second day in Bayeux for our full day tour of the D-Day beaches. It turned out to be the wettest. By the time we finished, my so-called rain jacket was soaked through, I could ring out my pants and my shoes were a sloshy mess. It is in this contest of near hypothermia that I will do my best to describe what I can of the greatest single military operation in history.
We started on Gold Beach in the British sector. Here we carefully examined the German bunkers that formed part of the Atlantic Wall, Hitler’s “impregnable” defense of the coast. These bunkers benefitted from Germany’s well-deserved reputation for solid engineering. They were buried in the earth (but are now visible due to settling), the better to withstand aftershocks from bombs. Their tops were rounded, the better to deflect artillery. The Nazis assembled a book with plans, and you built the number and size of bunkers as prescribed. The guns had ranges up to 13 miles, so you could hit enemy ships at sea.
The bunkers were not entirely perfect, our guide Adam explained. Most were built by a forced labor of 500,000 not exactly endeared to their captors, and construction could get sloppy. This accounts for the collapsed roof in one bunker (too much sand in the concrete). And you had to be careful not to cook next to ammunition; which led to the roof blowing off one bunker.
Next we traveled west to Omaha Beach, perhaps the most well known beach, and certainly the bloodiest. Appropriately, the skies turned dark here and the rain began to fall. The beach forms a half circle and the Germans had studied their geometry well. Adam drew the plan in the sand while we gathered around. The range of German guns criss-crossed so that no part of the beach was safe. And due to cloud cover, the overhead Allied bombings to “soften up” the Germans had failed. The Americans were sitting ducks. It was sobering.
Our day continued in the pelting rain, on to the American Cemetery, with over 9,000 graves. Only 40% of families elected to have their sons (and four daughters) buried there, so the loss was even greater than vast field of crosses and 150 Jewish stars reveals.
I would like to humanize one of the fallen – Irvin Bloom. He was a Captain in the 82nd Airborne Division, 32nd Glider Regiment, who survived the initial glider assault on June 7, but died June 9, 1944. He earned the Silver Star, the third highest military combat decoration, for gallantry not further described. A sports editor at the time of his enlistment, he had completed 3 years at the University of Illinois. He was just 25 at the time of his death. Adam told us many of the Jews who enlisted in the American Army did not list their religion as Jewish for fear of being identified if captured by the Germans (or maybe just to fight antisemitism at home?). But if a family confirms later the soldier was Jewish, they will switch out the marker, and this has happened several times.
We also visited Pointe du Huc, where American rangers, who had trained for a year, scaled a sheer cliff to confront the Germans, who weren’t expecting them. Who would scale a sheer cliff? The Germans too frequently underestimated us (see quote from chief propagandist Goerring). The subsequent fighting was fierce, but after heavy losses, the Rangers prevailed.
Our lunch break was at Donut Dollie’s, where the staff dress in WWII fatigues. We ordered under a dripping outdoor canvas than retired to inside dining where we attempted to dry out. After cidre (cider, speciality of Normandy) and a tasty sandwich (baguette, cheese, walnuts, arugula, mustard sauce), I was still not dry but the day was not done. We stopped at the Airborne Museum to view some experiential exhibits of parachutists, then a special visit to the 12th century Church at Angoville-au-Plain, where two American medics who had parachuted in worked for 72 hours straight to treat the wounded, both civilian, American and German. You can still see bloodstains on the benches, and mortar damage to the roof.
We next visited a tiny single lane bridge over a stream, with cows dining in the background. Here, Adam presented his tour de force exposition of a long and awful battle to secure that nothing bridge. He stood next to a diorama of the battlefield, only armed with a hat against the pelting rain (he had lent me his umbrella, such a nice man). Here he told the whole back and forth of this decisive battle. And yes, the Americans finally took that nothing bridge, and the war was over within the year.
And while I confess I just wanted a hot shower at this point, we had one last stop to go. This was Utah Beach, where all went in the American’s favor. Allies bombed it in advance, and the beach was taken in 45 minutes. And then, as if on queue, the skies cleared.
We later visited on our own the village of Arromanche (pop. 503), which contains the remnants of Port Winston (Mulberry), the temporary port built by the British by sinking Gooseberries (old merchant ships) to form a breakfront, then using floating pontoons and caissons hauled from England to form docks and roads. Construction started just after the June 6th invasion and once completed, allowed 9,000 tons of equipment to be landed daily. You can still see some of the harbor today.
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