9 June 2004
My Normandy Experience
To all who've been wondering, yes, I did get Deployed. For two weeks. To France. With a contracted Gourmet restaurant. A couple months ago, my unit got tasked by USAREUR to provide VIP Helicopter transportation support for the 60th Anniversary of Normandy. Most of the battalion was to deploy to an airfield on the edge of the Normandy Coast. Planning was intense, and as usual, last minute. Three weeks ago, I went on a 2-day, mid-week TDY to recon the site, and review security issues. As part of that recon, we flew from the Deauville St. Gatin airfield (our operations site) to Utah Beach, then back along the coast to Point Du Hock, Omaha, and Arromache (to scout the Landing Zones at each of the memorial sites). While we hovered around each LZ, I got to shoot pictures out the crew-doors and around the Fuel Tanks.
Two weeks ago, we loaded up our cargo-vans, and drove from Mannheim, Germany to Deauville, France. As the Advance Party, we arrived at a shell of a camp, and proceeded to turn it into a functional camp — complete with running hot water showers, a tent with hard floors, electricity, Internet, Telephones, a Gourmet Restaurant, DVD's (playing Band of Brothers all day every day), Dart Boards, Fooz-ball tables, and porta-johns. Yeah, this unit knows how to “go to the field.”
The last day before the Main Body arrived, four of us drove over to Omaha Beach (about 90 minutes, and $15 in tolls away). We saw many re-enactors present for the anniversary, and shattered defensive positions still there after 60 years. We got to walk on the beach (Dog-Green sector, just under the Verville Draw — the one supposedly they went up in Saving Private Ryan). It was quite moving to walk those same beaches, and see the relics of that era still present. To realize what happened there, and know this is the very same beach…
When we finally got to the Cemetery, we only had about 30 minutes to actually tour it. We shot some pictures, and were forced to come to grips with the sheer numbers of dead buried there… from the northern edge of the cemetery you can see down onto the beaches — it is quite a way down, and there are views all the way to both ends of Omaha Beach… you can't help but see the vast armada of the invasion fleet as it must have appeared that morning… with the scene ahead of you, and the thousands of dead in eternal rest behind you.
Once the main body arrived, we kicked our work into high-gear. During the peak days of operations — June 5, 6, and 7 — we saw virtually every VIP, and every Head of State (except the President of the U.S.) come through our airfield. For the first time in 60 years the Russians were present for these ceremonies. Also for the first time, the Germans were present.
During our time out there, I did watch some of Band of Brothers. I was struck on the evening of the 5th, that near the end of the first episode, where the paratroopers were loading onto their aircraft, and setting off for Normandy, that the scene on the TV had happened 60 years prior. Exactly. As I watched the sun set that evening, I couldn't help but think about those airborne troops flying through that very sky 60 years ago.
After the missions were complete, we got shuttled out to the beaches for some time to see the sites and museums. Naturally, being an Army Aviation unit, we flew out in Blackhawks. At Omaha, we had an hour in the Cemetery. On the way in, a Bagpipe band had just finished playing Taps, and was marching out. Inside, a children's choir was singing something seemingly appropriate. I had a chance to meet and talk with a survivor of Omaha Beach, first wave. It was his first time in Normandy since 6 June 1944. It was very moving to hear his story: his landing craft hit a sand-bar, and the boat-driver lowered the ramp… A Major aboard ordered everyone out… many drowned as they stepped off the ramp. He started to break down at this point, and we never learned any more of his story — his grandson thanked us for taking the time, and for all that we did to help with the memorials.
Afterwards, the group of us scattered into the cemetery. I was struck by the crosses bearing the inscription: HERE LIES A COMRADE IN ARMS KNOWN BUT TO GOD. Majors were buried next to privates. Total equality in this place of eternal rest. The solemnness of the cemetery was enhanced by the somber tones of Taps being played by a lone bugler near the entrance.
When I was just about finished, and started heading back to our helicopters, I was stopped dead in my tracks by a name on a cross I recognized: John Morello from New York — died 6 June 1944. Some distant relation. Morello is not a common name, so this was very striking.
My only regret on this mission was not getting to actually see anything of the ceremonies or coverage. I hope all of you can someday get a chance to walk those beaches, and pay respects to those that lie in that part of France that is forever part of America.
Charles.