A tour of Omaha Beach

In response to the article on the Omaha Beach landing, Spencer Warren writes:

I walked on Omaha Beach in August 1976, also toured the two British beaches, Arromanches, the Pegasus Bridge, Pointe du Hoc and the U.S. and British war cemeteries—with an Australian family, the John O’Sullivans, in their Peugot station wagon. What I noted about Omaha is that I had never been on a beach that rose up toward very high grassy bluffs—from which the Germans inflicted such high casualties on our boys. Some of the massive German concrete bunkers remained—in ruins. Also huge craters from our naval gunfire. I know a gentleman who was the gunnery officer on the USS Texas that day. This WWI dreadnought is docked in Houston, or nearby, to this day.

I also know a gunner on a B-17 who flew missions that day over France. (My father fought in the Solomon Islands campaign, 1943-44, in the Seabees. His best friend was killed. My father always said he didn’t remember his name. After reading the Bradley book, Flags of Our Fathers, about the men in the photo who raised the flag on Iwo Jima, I now know it was too painful and horrible for my father to talk about. He remembered his friend’s name. Sometimes I think about that poor fellow and his family, and the family he never had, and what he died for. And when I look at the politicians like Senator Levin, whom you show up today, and I know what is truly obscene and despicable.)

The US cemetery above Omaha is grand and expensive, with lots of granite. But the comparatively modest British cemetery, at Bayeux, is better. Unlike the U.S. cemetery, the families were allowed to provide inscriptions on the gravestones—the grief and loss stares out at the visitor as if it just happened, oblivious to time. And unlike the US crosses and stars of David, the British stones are bigger—they include the regimental insignia on top and the name of the regiment below the name of the deceased, whose date of death and age is also given. Also, I never found the register at the US cemetery. Reading the register at the Bayeux cemetery, with the handwritten comments of gratitude from persons all across Western Europe, has been one of the most moving experiences of my life.

One gravestone is fixed in my mind—for one Victor Herbert Woodcraft, who died in July 1944, age 20. His family “Mum, Dad” and hs two siblings as I remember, wrote on his stone about their grief, ending: “Until God Restores the Broken Chain.” Recently I found his name and family details on the website of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

Mr. Warren adds:

In 1977 I visited the Somme battlefield near Amiens (what a cathedral, by the way!. The feeling of timelessness as one enters is extraordinary.) At the British war cemetery (there may be several in that area), you see the same headstones as at Bayeux. Row after row of them, boys in their late teens, very early twenties — each one ending with the same date of death: July 1, 1916. They are preserved as if it just happened.

Posted by Lawrence Auster at June 07, 2006 12:57 AM | Send