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Last year I read Stephen E. Ambrose's D Day: June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II
This year, however, I stumbled across a very up-close look at one unit's experience, The Bedford Boys: One American Town's Ultimate D-day Sacrifice
The Bedford Boys tells the story both of the men on the beach, and of the families back home -- including the day several weeks later when the telegraph machine in the town drugstore starts to reel off one "We regret to inform you" telegram after another. Bedford lost the largest percentage of its men in uniform of any town in the US during World War II, and it did so mostly in a couple of hours.
The book's focus is necessarily very close. You won't get a strong sense for the overall organization of D-Day from it, and it concentrates on what is already by far the most famous beach, for Americans at any rate. What you do get a strong sense of, however, and what is perhaps the most astounding human element of the D-Day story, is the bravery against impossible odds that somehow allowed thousands of young men, wading out of the water into withering machine gun fire, to eventually make their way up the beach, overwhelm the machine gun nests and pill boxes, and begin the long awaited liberation of Europe.
In 24 hours the Allies landed as many soldiers as are currently in Iraq, and suffered as many casualties as we have in five years. Through great bravery, and in the face of incredible suffering. As with so many others who have, throughout history, found themselves having to stand firm in the face of death -- I don't know how they did it, other than that they had to.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
7 comments:
Nice post. We celebrate the anniversary of D-Day in my house every year - it's my youngest daughter's birthday so she gets to have a cake that resembles a rocky beach with frosting bunkers and candied anti-tank fortifications, all trimmed in olive drab. Which reminds me, I better call home and wish her a happy D-Day...
My husband's grandfather was a flyboy during WWII, stationed in N. Africa. He contracted malaria and was separated from his mates, who were reassigned. Every one of them - everyone he had flown with - died on D-Day, a bunch of flyboys given guns and put on boats. Most didn't even reach the shore. Had it not been for the malaria, Grandpa Gene would have met the same fate.
The first lawfirm I worked for, a small 3 man firm, had a strong D-Day connection. The senior partner's 20 year old son died on Omaha beach. An attorney at the firm who left after becoming a judge just before I came on board had been shot up on Omaha beach and still walked with a limp some four decades later. Another attorney at the firm was an Army Air Corps ground officer in England whose unit provided air support on D-Day. They were all able attorneys, but the D-Day connection was what struck home for me.
D-Day if it were reported by the media of the present:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Px_XBJHrs4I&eurl=http://www.thecombatreport.com/
A reminder of just how grim Omaha beach was:
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/196011/omaha
I'd never heard of the Bedford Boys. Wow. Beautiful post.
As far as I know, the small town I grew up in has lost one son to Iraq; I can't imagine losing 19 at once. This really puts things into perspective.
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