Twice in quick succession, the phone on my desk rang last Tuesday morning. Each call carried the same question: Did I know what this day was?
It was June 6, 2006, and there was all sorts of chatter on air and online about the apocalyptic date — 6-6-6. Except for a review of the remake of “The Omen,” a film about a devil’s spawn whose cynical release date was that very day, such mark-of-the-beast talk seemed to be absent (happily, in my view) from the pages of The Courier-Journal.
That day’s newspaper did include significant news stories about a U.S. Supreme Court challenge to the Jefferson County Public Schools’ desegregation policy, an update on the possible cause of the Harlan County mine disaster and an analysis of the gay-marriage-ban “debate.”
One small reference
Only one small mention in the newspaper spoke to the historic significance of the day, the reason for the phone calls. A quotation at the top of the Forum page read:
“‘This embattled shore, portal of freedom, is forever hallowed by the ideas, valor and sacrifice of our fellow countrymen.’ — Monument inscription on the Normandy coast. It commemorates the D-Day invasion, 62 years ago today.”
June 6 was the anniversary of D-Day, which the Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library describes thusly:
“The D-Day operation of June 6, 1944 brought together the land, air and sea forces of the allied armies in what became known as the largest invasion force in human history. The operation, given the codename Overlord, delivered five naval assault divisions to the beaches of Normandy, France. . . . The invasion force included 7,000 ships and landing craft manned by over 195,000 naval personnel from eight allied countries. Almost 133,000 troops from England, Canada and the United States landed on D-Day. Casualties from the three countries during the landing numbered 10,300. By June 30th, over 850,000 men, 148,000 vehicles and 570,000 tons of supplies had landed on the Normandy shores. Fighting by the brave soldiers, sailors and airmen of the allied forces western front and Russian forces on the eastern front led to the defeat of German Nazi forces. ”
The weight of that history impressed itself in the older voice of one of the men who called last Tuesday morning, when he said, “I am speaking for all who cannot speak now.”
Day by day, our living witnesses to the unimaginable horror and valor of D-Day slip away: Time fells what the ferocious volleys by German forces did not.
But that doesn’t let us off the hook.
If the men who survived D-Day are not here to witness in abundant numbers anymore, that does not mean we are permitted to forget.
Some events in human history are so remarkable, so huge, that they should never be mere footnotes to our lives today.
Serve as the memory
Newspapers must reflect the news of the day. They must stay ahead of the currents that shape their communities, and report on what those currents could mean. But they also must strive to serve as the memory of the momentous past, and as a reminder of why it still matters.
I think D-Day is one of those singular events of the momentous past that deserves respect and examination in media that purport to be about this minute, this hour, this day, this week, this month, this year.
Why? Because our life this day was made possible by D-Day.
I have to admit I didn’t always feel this way.
When I was younger, I’d read the history, sure, but I didn’t fully understand what happened on those beaches in France.
When I worked at a paper in Florida, I just knew there would be hell to pay with our military retiree readership if we didn’t have something in the paper about D-Day or Pearl Harbor Day. So we always made sure to include something for them. Never thought of it as being something for me, too.
Photo gallery posted
I talked to one of the callers last Tuesday for a little while, and told him I would pass his message along to the editors at the newspaper. That day, our New Media crew posted a D-Day photo gallery and audio slide show on our Web site; in the next day’s newspaper, we printed a photograph of an old soldier visiting the American Cemetery in Normandy. Next year, maybe we’ll do all that ahead of time.
I also told the caller that I had been to Normandy, just last year, and that words could not express the gratitude I felt for those who fought there, that words could not describe how I felt to be in that holy place.
The night of June 6, I went to find my travel diary from that trip, my third to France. This trip was special: I went with my mother and my daughter for my 50th birthday, and we made the pilgrimage to Normandy together.
A visit to Normandy
I wish my observations had been keener, but they are what they are. Truly, I found it difficult to articulate the peace and the beauty and the weight of the place. So I catalogued my few organic keepsakes from the cliffs and the beaches, and the snatches of stories I heard, and the impressions left by the sights and smells of that day. Selections:
My God. What can I say about today? I don’t want to forget
. . . pine cones from the American cemetery . . .
. . . rocks from Omaha Beach and La Pointe du Hoc . . .
. . . shells and feathers from Utah Beach . . .
. . . (signal) clicker (like the one in “The Longest Day”) from Saint Marie-Eglise, the first village liberated by the Allies . . .
. . . stained glass windows in the church had paratroopers designed into the glass!!! . . .
. . . French citizens adopting American graves to put fresh flowers on them . . .
. . . the cranny of a tree at the American Cemetery that had crosses and other religious objects put in it . . .
. . . the smell of decay and urine in some of the bunkers . . .
. . . the utter beauty of the statue at the American Cemetery, of an American youth riding atop a wave from the sea . . .
. . . life expectancy of officer at the lip of LST was 32 seconds . . .
. . . that 27 of 29 Sherman tanks unloaded at Omaha went straight to the bottom . . .
. . . of silently crying as soon as I arrived at the cemetery . . . not being able to stop, just very emotional . . .
. . . of the great beauty of the sea and the green grass and the stark whiteness of the precision markers . . .
. . . Guide’s ex-husband was a journalist who covered the 40th anniversary of D-Day, saw a German somewhere in Normandy and asked if he was going to the commemoration — he said he wouldn’t dare, but he planned to go to Pointe du Hoc to take a wooden cross he’d carved to memorialize a Ranger he had killed with a knife there . . . said he’d had bad dreams ever since. . . .
So inadequate. So inadequate.
I put down the book, and picked up a special pine cone I keep on my dresser.
Evergreen.
Like the story of D-Day.
