Connecting with D-day

It was 3:00 a.m. in a compact room filled with four people including myself while I laid in the least bit comfortable “bed” that hung from the ceiling of the cruise ship by hinges. I was kept up by the continuous noise streaming from my roommates mouths and the uneasy rocking of the ship upon the water. The thought of having to be up at 5:45 a.m. for breakfast and the deport for Normandy whispered its way through my head over the loud, agonizing cries that begged for good thirteen hour deep sleep. As I thought about the lack of sleep I was about to suffer from the next day, I slowly drifted off into a slumber-which was rudely awoken by the obnoxious sound of an alarm clock- it was 5:45.

The morning started out a little rough with four girls trying to get ready in a room the size a hamster cage, along with getting yelled at in thick French accents about what we can and cannot eat for breakfast (I didn’t know grabbing a bowl of fruit was so looked down upon in France-it actually just cost extra). Everyone was crabby in the morning since we were all sleep deprived and awake before the roosters. I began to think today was going to be a tough one after getting less than three hours of sleep with an entire scheduled day of touring Normandy ahead. I began to prove myself right when the bus tour for Normandy began and half of the bus was already sleeping while my own eyes began to grow heavy. The bus pulled up to the beaches of Normandy, the jerk from the stop woke up the sleepers. It was announced that we would have twenty minutes to walk the historic Omaha Beach; it wasn’t until after I set foot on the beaches that I realized I was going to love the day ahead. As I collected sand in a bottle and took pictures standing in the water, I thought about how many soldiers lost their lives in the exact spot I stood in. I imagined the Germans shooting down at young American soldiers from the top of the hill that I starred up at, like flies in a trap. I then admired the soldiers who fought in WWII, for being in such a terrible situation, but still pulling through and winning the battle that took place on D-day. I mourned for the ones who lost their lives; however, it all seemed so unrealistic to me-that was until we reached our next destination. The bus pulled up in front of the Normandy American Cemetery and it wasn’t until I stepped foot on the bright green grass, looking out at thousands of white tombstones, that I realized D-day actually occurred. A strange feeling hit me in the gut and an extraordinary sensation took over my body.

I started walking through the cemetery with a group of friends, appreciating the beautiful flowers, bright green grass, sparkling white tombstone, and the straight lines the tombstones formed side by side. I found myself in deep thought and significant imagining regarding D-day and death and when I toned back into what my friends were saying, I realized they were talking about how cute the names on some of the tombstones were and how it’s stupid that we have over an hour to spend here. These comments really angered me because I felt that they didn’t understand the importance of the cemetery and the respect that should come with visiting it; therefore, I went off on my own to wander through the 9,387 tombstones. As I weaved in and out of the strategically placed tombstones, I began to think that these are not just white pieces of stone and that under every single one of them lays a body of a man who sacrificed his life fighting for justice. I put myself in the shoes of each family member of each buried man, trying to comprehend that every man buried here caused some sort of mourning pain for all the people that knew him. It is mind blowing to think about how many people were affected by just that one historic day during WWII, known as D-day. I tried to visit every tombstone with a flower near it; for some reason I find an unexplainable beauty behind flowers in front of a tombstone, it symbolizes some never ending love and respect to me-even though the person the flower is for is dead, the love for him still remains alive. While exploring the cemetery, I saw one thing I will never forget. I stumbled upon a single white flower sticking up from the ground in front of a tombstone, when I went to read who was buried beneath me I read, “here rests in honored glory a comrade in arms known but to god”. I admired the beauty in front of me for quite some time, and then I realized I wanted to put a flower in front of a tombstone of an unknown soldier as well to pay my respect; however, there were no flowers for sale and I don’t just carry around flowers. I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be able to leave a flower behind, although I still left my love and respect. There were a few other occurrences within that cemetery that will be hard for me to forget, one being a tombstone with a pot of roses in front of it; within the roses laid a black and white picture of a young man-the man who was buried beneath my feet. The other occurrence was when I read the information on a white tombstone that read the day of death as July 5^th, my birthday. I walked though as many tombstones as I could, giving my respect to each solider and before I knew it, it was time to go. I turned in a full circle, looking at all the white tombstone that seemed to go on for miles, taking it all in one last time. I found myself shedding a few tears before I left the green grass of the cemetery, I felt something that day that I have never felt before. The feeling is hard to explain, but it’s something I will never forget.