Memorial Day 2002

This coming Monday, our nation will observe Memorial Day. For some, this will be a day of solemn prayer, reflection and mourning for the 1.8 million men and women who have given their lives for our country since 1775. For too many others, it will be just another holiday with backyard barbeques and excursions to the beach, the mountains or the shopping malls. In fact, a few years ago, when a group of children touring Washington, D.C. were asked what Memorial Day meant, they responded, “That’s the day the swimming pools open!”

Having been on Oahu when Pearl Harbor was bombed in 1941 and, having lived through World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Cold War, Desert Storm and now the fighting in Afghanistan, I have always taken Memorial Day seriously. I was choked up when I visited the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. a few years ago. This year, Memorial Day will be a particularly solemn occasion for Linda and me, having recently toured the coastline of Normandy, France, where so many Americans died during the D Day invasions there and in the days that followed.

The battle to free France, and ultimately Europe, from Nazi domination began shortly after midnight on June 6, 1944, when troops from the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions parachuted in several miles behind the heavy German defense line all along the Normandy coast, which faces England. Former restaurant manager Al Batz was one of those men, and landed near the town of St-M?re Eglise. Because he spoke French, he was assigned the task of waking up the mayor to warn him about what was happening.

Then, starting at 6:30 a.m., 135,000 American, Canadian and British troops were brought in by sea to hit the beaches in five areas. All encountered some of the fiercest resistance imaginable as they scratched their way up the steep cliffs that line much of the coast. The Americans were almost thrown back into the sea at Omaha Beach, and casualties in this area were particularly high. The Army Rangers, who climbed the cliffs at Omaha’s Pointe du Hoc, lost 135 out of 225 men.

Today, the coasts of Normandy are calm. Wind-driven carts sail up and down the broad, hard sands of Omaha Beach. Houses have been built where German artillery, barbed wire and land mines were once located. Tourists and families walk the old battlefields and visit the two dozen D Day museums in the region. But the most striking and emotional site is the 172-acre American military cemetery located on the bluffs above Omaha Beach.

Here, 9,387 crosses are precisely laid out, row upon row. The graves include 307 unknowns, three Medal of Honor recipients and four women. One of the gold-lettered Medal of Honor graves bears the name of Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt Jr., the son of President Teddy Roosevelt. A semicircular wall contains the names of 1,557 missing in the region who gave their lives in the service of their country, but whose remains have not been recovered or positively identified.

It was a cold, rainy afternoon as Linda and I walked among the crosses and the Star of David markers. Our throats tightened and our eyes filled with tears as we thought about the fact that each resting there was a son or daughter, brother or sister, perhaps a mother or father with a family and hopes and dreams for the future. None wanted to give his or her life for their country, but they willingly did their duty when they were called to be part of the battle against tyranny.

Freedom is not free. The price is high, and many have given all they could possibly give. Let’s remember them this and every Memorial Day.