World War II had elements in each country I saw. Memorials in the Toronto airport, refugees in Ireland, the veteran memorials and museums all throughout Britain and London, and memorials throughout Normandy. It really felt like a World War after seeing this.
Being in France, it has been the first time I’ve been in a country that had a foreign language. I know very little French, and some of the locals are way more patient and accommodating than others. It doesn’t take long to find glares and stares when our big group is together. We are loud without trying.
The Normandy museum was hard to digest. Some details and parts were very well done, and others were very aggravating or passive. Things did not seem to mesh well. The giant, colored statue right outside the stark stone and mirrored glass did not work. Even the signs on the statue contradicted themselves. It was not necessarily that the museum showed different opposing viewpoints, but it did in a way that did not make it clear how they were related.
The odd statue with a plaque discussing how this is depicting what is considered sexual assult
The museum seemed to focus on the path to the war. Even entering the museum, the visitors were funneled in and black, mirrored glass was above and reflected down to show the visitors entering. Inside, visitors were lead down in a circular descent into a dark, echoing globe with Hitler and chanting surrounding them.
The stark museum entrance
A portion focused on the French empire, and that was interesting to see.
The film watched towards the end, I enjoyed. It showed multiple perspectives of the same thing at the same time. Germans preparing and Americans arriving. And it also showed the beaches then and immediately switched to film from the quiet beaches now. That left a huge impact. There was no narrating, only images. I was glad they did this since it was a museum with visitors with many languages. No translation was needed, and that was very powerful.
One issue with the translation and foreign interpretation came from the museum’s presentation on Pearl Harbor. It was suggested that Roosevelt did not prevent Pearl Harbor to hasten the entry of the war and stated that there was no evidence to support that claim, but they said it anyway. The phrasing was very rude and patronizing, and infuriating as a result. I was not alone in thinking that this museum had handled a few things such as this poorly.
Utah Beach had an atmosphere that I can’t describe. The rolling banks and sea grass were broken up by barbed wire, and memorials made the beaches feel like hallowed ground.
Weaving through the exhibits with artifacts picked up from the beach at the connected museum, it was hard not to get emotional. Personal diaries and letters and photos of the deceased men were mixed in with weapons and uniforms and made it human.
The most impacting point was walking upstairs to the windows where it became level with the ground. Old barbed wire and German defenses laid where they were placed all those years ago.
The view that stopped me in my tracks
The whole little village leading to Utah beach seemed to wholeheartedly accept the history and had WWII mannequins throughout windows. The phrase “welcome to our liberators” was printed on some windows there and on windows in Bayeux. I can’t help but wonder if the locals treated us so negatively because some tourists take this as a praise to themselves and are less than humble in their conduct with the French.
This was the sort of depiction of the local reception of the Americans
St. Mere cathedral, where the famous John Steele’s parachute was caught, was centered in the little town. The museums were small and in a campus format, and were well organized and personal, being privately owned.
The depiction of John Steele
The displays brought the history to life, especially in the portion dedicated to Operation Neptune . We were funnled into a dimly lit airplane lined with paratroopers. The sounds and flashes of light were hectic as the soldiers have individual status reports. Walking out of the path through the plane, an aerial view, dotted with parachutes, flashed lights as bombs and shells hit their targets. Mayhem and chaos was seen and easily felt. Past that, the room was filled with German materials and helmets spotted with holes and cracked open like eggs.
Point du Hoc felt like a battle field. The damage to the bunkers and the gigantic craters in the hills showed scars from a legendary battle. I cannot believe the successes that happened after looking at the cliffs and the bunkers.
It was impossible to capture the degree of physical devastation of the land, but this was one eerie thing to see
The American cemetery, museum and memorial was beautifully done. As the clock struck upon the hour, the national anthem began playing as I was reading the names of the fallen buried there. The grief was overwhelming. I was also overwhelmed as I passed a cluster of graves of unknown soldiers.
The extensive American Cemetery
Low-tide Omaha Beach was menacing. Looking down at the shoreline from an old bunker, it was understandable how there was so many casualties. The atmosphere would have seemed serene if not for remembering what happened there. It took consciously thinking about it to realize that it was not just an ordinary beach because of how bare it had been made over the years, and I am kind of glad at that. It showed recovery and how brief things are in the grand scheme of everything. There was a memorial, one ornate one where less casualties were seen, and one of soldiers moving “ever forward” where there was heavy casualties. I took a bag of sand from that area to share with my relatives and my loved veterans back at home.
The British cemetery was drastically different than the American one, even pulling up to it. It is interesting to see how the different troops from different nations are memorialized. This was a cemetery that was privately owned and was easily less nationalistic in pride and was much more personalized. It also had a mix of troops from other nations and was much more serene rather than somber.
The diverse and personal British Cemetery
La Mont St. Michele was unlike anything that I have ever seen in person before. I had never seen it before in pictures or anything, so when driving when I saw a momentous and astounding figure growing at the horizon, I was struck with awe.
The view from the top really felt medieval, and I have never experienced that before other than on the History Channel. Hearing the connection to World War II, and and how the Nazi’s occupied it and that it was liberated by Patton’s troops was surprising and only further emphasized the apparent amazing history that Mont St. Michael had. I had asked the question to try and find out why so many of the statues faces had been destroyed, and it could have been from the French Revolution or during a Protestant/ Catholic conflict. What I have learned in European History courses was reflected and feasible today, and I was glad to have that background knowledge to try and digest all that I saw today.
To summarize Bayeux, I have to say that I am glad that my introduction to France and a French speaking populace was in this quiet village like place. Some of the people working in the restaurants unfortunately matched negative stereotypes associated with the French. I had one person help me without rolling their eyes at me for something.
I loved the historic architecture, the quiet streets and little shops. It was a wonderful break from hectic city life between London and upcoming Paris. I was also excited to see cows I’ve learned about in my Animal Science courses made famous in America after our troops saw them along the French country side.
This was a random statue that was seen in the middle of a bare part of town that caught my eye. The town seemed to be so full of history and did not shy away from memorializing it