b. France

Memories of Mercy and Liberation after D-Day

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On the morning of May 16th, I visited a tiny church at Angoville-au-Plain in Normandy, where medics Robert Wright and Kenneth Moore cared for 80 combatants and a child during Operation Overlord. Wright was a paratrooper in the U.S. 101st Airborne Division and an Ohio State Buckeye. By transforming the 900-year-old church into an aid station, Wright and Moore remembered their common humanity. They insisted on tending to both American and German soldiers who checked their weapons at the door. They draped the eglise (i.e. “church” in French) with a Red Cross banner from its steeple, making it neutral territory under the Geneva Convention on Warfare. Although Angoville changed hands several times during the heavy fighting, the medics risked their lives and remained in the church to treat wounded and dying soldiers. At one point, an artillery shell crashed through an aperture in the roof and thudded onto the stone floor. Luckily, it was a dud.

Like the church at Angoville, the crucifix above Gold Beach has palpable religious symbolism. I interpreted it as the redemptive value of suffering for something larger than one’s self.

Near Angoville, the town of Sainte-Mère-Église was an important crossroads in the plan to liberate Northern France. Operation Overlord demanded the capture of key transportation routes between Nazi-occupied Paris and the Cherbourg Peninsula. By capturing the town, American paratroopers prevented German reinforcements and controlled a vital causeway above Utah Beach, one of five Allied landing zones. If they did not secure the causeways leading through the high bluffs, then U.S. troops would have been trapped on the beaches.

Wright and Moore decided to operate out of Angoville because it was located between the heavy fighting at Utah Beach and Sainte-Mère-Église, where medics were sorely needed. They hauled injured combatants in wheel barrows and carried them out of the combat zone and into the sanctuary of the aid station, where the blood of American and German soldiers stained its wooden pews. These bloodstains cannot be washed out and must not be forgotten. They are the price of liberty from tyranny, of free religious expression, of democracy and equal justice under God. Although millions died without knowing the type of world that would be built from the horrors of war, men like Robert Wright eased their journey and lightened their heavy burden by practicing extraordinary works of mercy and compassion in the heat of battle.

Fittingly, Wright was laid to rest in the cemetery outside the church. Dr. Nick Breyfogle planted an OSU flag to commemorate Wright’s legacy as a Buckeye. It was a stirring moment for everyone present.

75 years after D-Day, Angoville remains a beautiful French hamlet of less than 100 residents, and it still memorializes the struggle for liberation. The town’s mayor and his spouse graciously received our large tour group, no doubt larger and louder than the usual foot traffic. At first, he thanked us for coming and highlighted the generosity of Americans in preserving the church as a historical landmark. He went on to express deep concern about future generations forgetting about the history of World War II and repeating the mistakes of past generations. His reception was a touching and inspiring example of French historical memory and its relationship to the United States. Although Angoville was one stop on our long journey, I will never forget my experience there. The church deserves to be visited, because it captures something beautiful, somber, and serene about the Second World War and its legacy today.

The Destructive Capacity of Mankind

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The scarred landscape of Pointe du Hoc.

Southeast of Cherbourg, Normandy lies Pointe du Hoc, an area stretching above huge, jagged cliffs. The ocean crashes onto these cliffs up which a U.S. Army Ranger Assault Group scaled on D-Day to protect Utah and Omaha Beaches during the Allied invasion of Normandy. The hundred-foot cliffs are not the most stunning feature of Pointe du Hoc, however.

The land is pockmarked by craters from Allied bombing. Were it not for the concrete bunkers and tangles of rebar, one might think that the craters are a natural part of the terrain. The 40 foot wide and 20 feet deep craters are filled with grass and weeds and wildflowers. Nature always finds a way to make even the remnants of warfare stunning.

One of the great elements of this study program is the opportunity to make real the places where historical events happened. Here, on these clifftops, American soldiers fought and held key positions to protect their comrades landing at Omaha and Utah Beaches later that day. As I walked past craters and stood in German artillery bunkers, the invasion of Normandy became real to me. Unlike Omaha Beach, where little but monuments remind the visitor of the thousands who died there, the craters of Pointe du Hoc tell a story all on their own—one I could never glean from books alone.

So many lives, so many resources were spent in the great battle against fascism. Standing among the craters I looked out at the sea. The waves broke against the brown and gray cliffs. A breeze swept through the tall grass as I stood amidst the destructive capacity of mankind.

Two Images of D-Day

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Pointe-du-Hoc

 

Crater at Pointe-du-Hoc

Omaha Beach

Throughout my life, I have realized the many stages that learning can have. Sometimes stories and events can be understood relatively quickly without setting foot anywhere near where it happened. However, after visiting places like Gettysburg I realized that it takes being there myself to gain a greater appreciation of the history. My time in Normandy has been a prime example of this. Pointe-du-Hoc, where some 240 Army Rangers scaled the cliffs in the early hours on June 6, 1944, is a surreal place. Walking through the grass at Pointe-du-Hoc, across the craters left by Allied bombs seven decades ago, left me with a new perspective of D-Day. I climbed into abandoned German bunkers. Looking out across the cliffs below and along the coast I imagined the typical day of a German soldier who would have stood and gawked at this sight for months. What would it have felt like to look out one morning to see thousands of enemy ships floating towards me rather than the usually empty sea? Although it may sound obvious, standing on the same ground as those who made history so long ago adds an essential element to the understanding of what happened. The farmland and hedgerows throughout Normandy made me look at the war through the soldiers’ perspective more so than I would in a classroom. I found myself constantly putting myself in the shoes of an American GI or Nazi soldier seeing the same green fields as me under much different circumstances. One of the most dramatic sights I experienced was walking up Omaha Beach and glancing to my right at the bunker where a German machine gunner shot down dozens of Americans who stood near me. That bunker is still nestled in the hillside above the beach as it was in 1944. Though we had talked about this in class and I imagined standing there before, making that walk myself and seeing the bunker had a whole new meaning. The few days I spent in Normandy have had a profound impact on my understanding of World War II, and I am so incredibly grateful I was afforded this opportunity.

Fathoming the Unfathomable

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View atop a bunker

In traveling to Europe, I had thought that I would be better able to understand the extraordinary experiences that our Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines went through to liberate Europe.  Seeing the battlefields, for example, would better allow me to see how people my age displayed unthinkable acts of heroism seventy-five years ago.  On the day that we traveled to Pointe du Hoc, the American Cemetery, and Omaha Beach, I learned that this would not be the case.  Although these sites showed me how large the scale of the battle was, this very same large scale consequently made it even more impossible to imagine the experiences of those in the war.  In short, the unfathomable became even more unfathomable.

Looking East on Omaha

Arriving at Pointe du Hoc, I was immediately awestruck by the torn landscape.  At this landing zone, which was situated between Omaha and Utah Beach, American Rangers scaled 200-foot cliffs with grappling hooks and ladders in order to capture gun emplacements that threatened the rest of the invasion forces.  The effects of a powerful Allied naval bombardment and air attack – the only beach to receive such accurate and devastating bombing in advance of the invasions – were still visible.  Dotting the bluffs above the steep cliffs were several shattered bunkers—“monuments” to the events that occurred there. They told the story, in part, without saying any words.  Standing on top of one of these bunkers, I could simply not imagine the American Rangers attacking the cliffs under fire and fighting within this hellish landscape.

The American Cemetery

Omaha Beach was just as awe-inspiring.  After we arrived at Dog Green Sector, the deadliest portion of the beach, I was shocked at how quickly the tide went out over the span of an hour due to how flat it was.  There were over 200 yards of beach from the water’s edge to a concrete wall, and with the tide being as quick as it was, it became clear to me how crucial timing was to the entire operation.  Along the wall and the hills were menacing bunkers angled just right to produce the maximum sector of fire across the beach.  Bearing in mind Ernie Pyle’s description of the colossal amounts of military equipment strewn across the beach a week after the invasion the entire time I walked along the beach, the same thought kept running through my mind:  How did they survive this?

The most memorable portion of the day was the American Cemetery where nearly 10,000 servicemen are interred.  In such a somber place, I was awestruck at how “alive” it was.  These men were laid to rest in a way that reminded me of a unit ready for an open-ranks inspection.  Walking along the graves and watching the rows pass between each other also produced an optical illusion reminiscent of the feet of a large formation of soldiers marching in step past an onlooker.  In seeing workers cleaning the marble tombstones, mowing the lawn, and sweeping the pathways, I was left with an indescribable gratitude at how these young men are taken care of, but this more than ever emphasized to me Ernie Pyle’s idea of the human cost of war.  In his articles about the invasion, he described seeing personal mementos strewn across the beach even weeks after the invasion.  These personal items, like family photos and letters, or even a tennis racket, belonged to men whose lives could have been extinguished forever.  These sons, brothers, and fathers will never slip into historical ambiguity; their efforts, no matter how unfathomable, will never be forgotten.

On that small plot of American soil overlooking the beaches of Normandy, they will forever stand in their final formation.

 

De Gaulle the Liberator and Macron the Alienator

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Wavering and leaderless after the Second World War, the French had few to turn to but Charles de Gaulle. Never elected in prewar France, this general and self-appointed political leader of la France combattante won public approval in a landslide. Decades later, President Emmanuel Macron’s aloofness and elitism tests French confidence in the strong executive meticulously crafted by de Gaulle.

Once the confetti of the liberation parades had settled, the French looked to de Gaulle for guidance. After all, according to more than one deluded French museum, his Résistance could have liberated Paris without the Allies’ help (sorry, Eisenhower). To many French, de Gaulle stood resolutely against the whims of the liberating powers while restoring France’s internal stability and international leadership. As the first President of the Fifth French Republic, de Gaulle openly espoused a strong executive and wrote the Fifth Republic’s constitution to reflect his vision.Like a sleeping guardian, de Gaulle would awaken in times of great need to save the Republic before retiring back to isolation. Despite de Gaulle’s self-declared transcendence of party politics, the French Left saw traditionalism and Catholicism in his policies, famously pressuring him to resign in 1968.

This 1958 presidential campaign poster frames de Gaulle as a man without party, an unassailable centrist. It reads, in part, “Listen to me: Communism is servitude, party politics is impotence. Between these two extremes is the French People’s Rally.” Macron’s centrism made him similarly attractive in the 2017 election—the alternative was a far-right candidate. Note the Cross of Lorraine, a symbol of de Gaulle’s Free French Forces, in the top left.

Today, many French resent centrist President Macron as an énarque (a play on the name of his alma mater, ÉNA, and monarque), one of the distant French elite.  Our delightfully skillful bus driver, Pascal, explained that an ignored middle class opened the bleeding wound of the gilets jaunes movement: Macron’s gas tax punishes commuters who cannot afford to live near the city center. He pressed his thumb into the wound by dismissing protestors’ concerns as misinformed and fringe. Macron grows distant from his constituents: all around the Place de la Bastille hang posters of Macron bedecked in the royal robes of Louis XVI. Unlike de Gaulle, who even responded to resignation calls from outside his coalition, he takes for granted that the French will come around and continue to reject his far right opposition. Tonight’s European Parliament elections say otherwise.

“[Let’s] abolish privileges [of the nobility],” a reference to the French Revolution, featuring Macron as Roi des Français.

Today, some on the French Left call for a new republic, though support for such a measure has fallen ever since Macron began making concessions to the gilets jaunes. We most likely will not soon see a Sixth Republic, but disappointment with Macron has eroded French confidence in de Gaulle’s strong executive.

 

Tension Between Mourning and Memorialization

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The British Cemetery at Bayeux (photo by Ian Mintz)

Some of the most emotional sites that we visited in France were the British, American, and German cemeteries for those lost in World War II.  The differences in the designs of the cemeteries revealed a lot about the intent of the builders and the nations that commissioned them.  The British cemetery was made up of thousands of personalized headstones for soldiers who hailed from all corners of the British Empire and died in France.  Each headstone included information about where the soldier was from, what unit he served in, when he was born, and when he died.  There was also an individualized quote from family members, friends, or the military if the soldier had no close connections.  The British cemetery felt incredibly personalized and seemed to be a place of mourning both for the nation as a whole and individual families of soldiers who had been laid to rest there.

The American and German cemeteries were much more uniform than the British cemetery.  While the British cemetery allowed

Max D. Clark’s grave, where I had the honor of planting an Ohio State flag alongside my roommate and friend Ashton Cole

unique inscriptions on the headstones, the American and German cemeteries included only standardized information on the largely identical grave markers of the soldiers buried there.  The American graves were labeled only with the soldier’s name, regiment, state of enlistment, and date of death.  Each gravestone was either a cross, if the soldier identified as Christian or Protestant, or a Star of David, if the soldier identified as Jewish (these were the only three choices of religion). The German cemetery had only small square grave markers laying flat on the earth that simply dictated the soldier’s name and dates of birth and death.  These less personal, more standardized  tombstones made the American and German cemeteries feel more like wartime monuments than the final resting place of people’s loved ones.

Overall, I think the intended function of the British cemetery as opposed to those of the American and German cemeteries are different.  British families were and are more likely to visit their nation’s cemetery and mourn those they lost in France due to their proximity to northern France, so the British cemetery was designed to be more welcoming and personal, while still retaining a militaristic dignity.  The British remember World War II as the “People’s War”, one in which each person’s sacrifice mattered, which is reflected in the design of their cemetery.

The American Cemetery at Normandy

American families were and are less able to visit the cemetery frequently, and even if they do make the pilgrimage to their loved one’s burial site, the cemetery workers remove anything placed at the headstones once a week to maintain the graves’ neat and uniform appearance.  It seems as if the American cemetery therefore was designed more as a military monument for the nation, rather than a place for mourning a family member or friend.  Instead of treating each soldier as an individual, the Americans chose to remember its lost military members en masse.  This layout seems to speak more to American military worship than to the supposed passion for individualism that the United States claimed made it superior to the Soviet Union during the Cold War.

The German cemetery is similarly uniform, as German culture is historically militaristic, and the French government likely did not feel compelled at the time to allow Germany to represent its fallen soldiers as anything more than that –

soldiers.  Remembering them as people who were loved and died for a lost cause would have been more painful for both nations.  Germany struggled to cope with the loss of the war and another generation of men.  Its simple cemetery reflects the nations destroyed hopes for greatness while maintaining the need to remember each soldier, as many a grave was inscribed with “Ein Deutscher Soldat” – a German soldier, anonymous in death but still worth memorializing.

Using these cemeteries as primary sources that provide insight into the objectives of each nation allowed me to better speculate on each nation’s intention for their wartime dead.  Whether they were to be remembered as individuals with complex lives that were tragically cut short or as soldiers honoring their country by giving their lives revealed to me how each country wanted to memorialize the fighting in northern France directly after the war.  While each cemetery was emotional for me to visit – seeing the tombstones of people my age and younger really drove home how terrible the war was – it was also interesting to consider their differences and analyze why each cemetery might be so unique.

On Gratitude

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Looking around Bayeux, France, one would assume that their gratitude for Americans and the Brits was always on their minds. The town is relatively small, only around 13,000 people, and on the surface has all the trappings of a typical coastal French village: cobblestone streets, thin winding roads, and patches of colorful flowers and green spaces throughout. Yet for so idyllic a place, it had an unprecedented amount of touristy attractions: standard gift shops with postcards and magnets, menus translated to English, and people in the service industry who also spoke fluent English. None of those things meshed with my preconceived ideas about an idyllic French town in the countryside. One of the most striking visuals that I saw, however, were paintings on the windows in preparation for the 75th anniversary of the Normandy invasion. They all depicted the stereotypes of French civilians and Allied soldiers, with saccharine slogans like “thank you for our freedom” written alongside them. I swear, we left the hotel for a day and came back to a new painting in the lobby windows. But, this image contrasts with one idea that we learned about during class: the idea of French resentment towards the ongoing American occupation of the country after the war. 

An example of the various window paintings found in Bayeux to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the Normandy invasion.

The idea came up a few times in class discussion and in my research paper. Our readings kept referencing an attitude best summed up by the phrase “thank you for helping! When do you leave?” Even the Musée de l’Armée in Paris included a video extolling Charles de Gaulle, in part for his efforts to regain French autonomy from the occupying Allied forces. Based upon these French interpretations of the American Occupation, one would assume that the window paintings and souvenirs that have popped up in Normandy to be little more than trappings for American and British tourists coming over for the 75th anniversary. In some sense, they are trappings made to make tourists from the Allied countries feel appreciated. And the Allies did make possible French freedom from Nazi Occupation. It is a double-edged sword, however; to expect the French people to remain eternally grateful and in debt to the Americans and British seems fantastical, as if wanting a younger sibling to continue idolizing you well past one’s youth. I don’t believe that either side is happy with the current system, however; the French miffed at continuing to keep up an air of submissive thanks, the Allied tourists upset with the artificial sentiment that inevitably comes with tourist traps. That’s no way to celebrate such a momentous anniversary.

A Petit Parisian Experience

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Paris has a reputation for luxury. Luxembourg Palace, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Napoleon’s ornate grave, and the Arc  de’ Triomphe overlooking the Champs-Elysees, are only a few  of the extravagant scenes that meet city visitors. In the Louvre, I was captivated by an exhibit recreating Marie Antoinette’s palace with intricate patterns,  vivid colors, and gold-adorned furniture. The Eiffel Tower was the tallest structure in the world for a time, and its twinkling evening lights still mesmerize spectators. Napoleon’s grave is in a massive domed building, complete with frescos on high ceilings that frame his large marble coffin. On the Champs Elysses, swanky designer brands with high price tags and security guards don’t dissuade lines of shoppers.  In a city where luxury is plentiful, I was surprised to find the word, “petit” before so many restaurant names. As a non-French speaker, I picked out the word as I eavesdropped. Parisians seem to indulge only mildly in desserts, drinks, or fancy meals. Making things seem small felt like a contradiction to Paris’ extravagance.  As I listened to an interview on the Rick Steves Audio Europe app (I’m a sucker for his audio guides and downloadable walking tours. Check it out, future comrades!) entitled, “Stuff Parisians Like,” he talked about this same phenomenon. As Rick interviewed a Parisian wine expert, Oliver Magny, they discussed how Parisians often downplay luxury in their own lives. Instead of saying they’re going away for the weekend, Parisians say they’re going away for a petit weekend. When paying with a credit card, clerks ask for a petit signature, not just a signature. Anything big is bad, which was surprising to me in a city of palaces.

On our last day in Paris, I visited the Conciergerie. This old prison  witnessed thousands of executions, including Marie Antoinette’s beheading during the French Revolution. Her tiny concrete prison cell was definitely petite, unlike her rooms in her palace. Her arrest and execution were products of overindulgence, and I think this created a culture of modesty in Paris. Other events throughout Paris’s history, especially the World Wars, forced Parisians to live in scarcity. A few days in Paris taught me that although Paris abounds in luxury, Parisians are aware of their history—times when luxury has led to one’s demise and times when Nazi occupation made life there far from luxurious. Thus, Parisians naturally understate everyday joys in order to maintain their petite humility and class.

 

How Charles De Gaulle Alone Won Back France

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Throughout the past semester and in my high school history classes, I have always been taught that after the French surrendered in World War Two, the secret “Free French” did not do much of anything to help the Allies win the war. Visiting France, I saw a completely different narrative. Each museum we visited in Normandy discussed in detail the contributions of Free France, led by Charles De Gaulle. France spared no time or detail in discussing the contribution of the Free French, especially in the Memorial Museum of the Battle of Normandy. A big focus was on De Gaulle’s BBC radio speech in 1940 while he was in hiding in England, where he called for the rallying of Free France after the country fell to Germany. In class, we discussed that while this was an important speech for morale, the number of people in the French resistance was small and unimpactful. A whole panel on French liberation and D-Day gave most credit to the persistence of Charles De Gaulle and his leadership of the Free French.

I also found it interesting to note the differences between the British and French museums. A big focus of the British perspective of World War Two was a focus on the “People’s War.” Credit was given to “The People.” In France, credit was given to De Gaulle. These museum sites really helped me understand that each country of the war had some freedom to write their own narrative after the war ended. The French chose to focus first on their leader, as seen through the museums I visited in France, and second on the country’s people. Frances near obsession with crediting De Gaulle for their taking back of their country seems like a compensatory coping mechanism to lessen the embarrassment of needing so much help winning back the country.

One of the many posters praising Charles De Gaulle and his war efforts during WWII.

A bust of Charles De Gaulle.

Time and Distance

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Battlefields and cemeteries marked our time in Bayeux. In just a few days in Bayeux I must have seen over 10,000 gravestones. The British, German, and American cemeteries are located on the coast, or quite close to it.

British Cemetery, Bayeux.

 

German Cemetery, Normandy.

 

American Cemetery, Normandy.

 

Visiting Pointe du Hoc and then a few moments later walking through the American Cemetery at Normandy built this new understanding for me. In a book, movie or class moving from the battle to the cost simply would have been a turn of the page or the flick of a switch. Diagrams, text or actors represent these people in ways that are important, yet lack depth of feeling. Experiencing these places brings something that cannot be taught but must be seen. Planting a flag at my fellow Buckeye’s final resting place brought it home for me, as this man was not much different than myself.

Roger Dyar was born and raised in the Conshocton area. Dyar went to The Ohio State University for two years and then he enlisted as an aviation cadet. Dyar broke the air speed record in a P-47 Thunderbolt by going 725 miles per hour. One man whom I could relate to suddenly became the thousands of other men who rest at the American Cemetery at Normandy.

 

The battlefield is France, fighting occurred all over the area in which we stayed and toured. Pieces of artificial harbors, gun emplacements, bunkers and craters litter these areas.

The artificial harbor at Gold beach stretches for miles.

German artillery emplacement, Pointe du Hoc.

Ruins of a German bunker and craters, Pointe du Hoc.

Civilians in France were killed by both Allied bombers and the Nazi occupiers. Over 20,000 civilians were killed during the invasion of Normandy. For these people, this was their home. America had not suffered invasion and occupation like the French had. We are distant from this reality; we are separated almost completely from it. Tales from our grandpas and stories about the “good war” are engrained in the American identity. Besides Arlington, America doesn’t have much physical connection to World War Two. In a way that is a blessing, in other ways this distance harms our perspective. In America as the decades have passed, events that occurred thousands of miles away have begun to fade away. In France it just takes a half hour of driving before you arrive at a battlefield. The war was in your village, backyard or even in your own home.

Free to Fightback in France

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After a long day of travel, our first full day in Bayeux, France, was filled with museums and site visits. I must confess I was sleep deprived. The previous night had been filled with excited chatter of being in France. Why be a responsible adult and go to bed early when I can stay up and have fun with friends in France?

Walking into Caen Memorial Museum took away any lingering desires for sleep. This museum, both inside and out, was beautiful. There were high ceilings, glossy polished stairs, and seemingly endless well-organized displays to visit. This museum focused on the French perspective on World War II and Normandy invasions, through French pictures and occupation memorabilia. But, the museum’s exhibits still highlighted other countries’ World War II experiences, placing France in the larger context of the war. When saying French perspective, I mean the exhibit mainly showcased how World War II impacted the culture and lives of French citizens. I distinctly remember a picture of French citizens dejectedly sitting down outside of their home that was destroyed in the Nazi invasion. It was a reminder of the terrible human toll of French civilians caught in the midst of the fighting.

Walking around the museum helped me recall the discussions about French wartime collaboration and resistance that we’d had in class this past spring. What made someone identifiably a collaborator rather than a resistance fighter? During the war and after, it is hard to generalize the French population into either of these distinct categories.

Depending on the day, we might interpret a person’s actions in a variety of ways. For example, working for the German occupiers, like helping build machinery for the Nazi war effort or providing food, and using that money to support their families could be considered collaboration. Yet, using that money to help out those who are impoverished or need help, like the Jewish population in France, could be considered resistance. It is money that is coming from unfortunate means but could still be used for good. Is the answer to refuse to work for the Germans and suffer without helping others? Is that what qualifies as resistance? These are questions that French civilians in occupied France were forced to confront daily.
Identifying who belonged to the resistance is also complicated. It is easier to view the men who actively fought against the Nazis as resistors. Rather than women doing small things like disobeying curfew or reading banned books. What level of resistance qualifies someone as a “resistor?” In the museum when discussing the resistance, I personally saw photo representation of both men and women. However, I recall readings and class discussions about the minimization of the women’s role in how we remember French resistance.

Towards the middle of the museum I found only one plaque that described collaborators in Vichy France. This plaque stated that people in France who collaborated did so for political power and economic opportunity because they believed the Nazi rule was permanent. They were relatively average people that saw an opportunity to increase their station in life. Essentially, some French citizens collaborated in hopes of securing a lavish future in the new world order. It was a simple description that acknowledged the selfishness of many French collaborators.

I believe this plaque focused on Vichy France, rather than collaboration in other occupied areas, because Vichy France stands out in our historical recollection. Vichy France was technically unoccupied by the Germans, but the newly set-up government collaborated with the Germans immensely. The Caen Memorial Museum may also have wanted to point the direction of collaboration away from areas that have positive significance to World War II, like Normandy being the area of liberation. Putting blame on more obvious culpable parties is easier than discussing a past you may feel guilty about and diminishing an overall positive historical reputation.

My interpretation for why the museum more extensively exhibited resistance in France is that it helps alleviate feelings of national guilt. If the museum designers focused more heavily on World War II collaboration in the museum France would appear in a negative light. Omitting or denying a country’s role may lead to the same mistakes and actions to be repeated. It is impossible to learn if no record exists from which to learn.

At the same time as someone who is not French I find it hard to fully judge the French’s decisions. These are all just my personal speculations that came to me while walking around the Caen Memorial museum. Overall, I greatly appreciated seeing the war from a different national perspective.

A Different Trip Abroad

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Seventy-five years ago, American men took a different trip abroad than I. We both experienced the towering cliffs at Pointe du Hoc, the immense stretches of Omaha Beach, and the thick vegetation of Normandy’s terrain, but we did so from vastly different viewpoints and circumstances.

I approached Pointe du Hoc from the rear, navigating the German bunkers and Allied bomb craters, the wind being the only resistance in sight. I quickly realized that the cliffs were taller than I ever imagined, extending one hundred feet up from the water’s edge. The 2nd and 5th Army Rangers were tasked with scaling these cliffs and taking German artillery positions at the top so that they could not be used against Operation Overlord landings.

The cliffs of Pointe du Hoc

The expansiveness of Omaha Beach

The incomprehensible destruction that lined Omaha Beach became painfully easier to picture. A seemingly unending beach extended for miles and stretched a few hundred yards from surf to land. Omaha, minus the German obstacles, looked as flat as it probably did back in 1944; the Allied preparatory bombing missed its mark entirely leaving no craters for American troops to take cover in. Thousands of American soldiers lost their lives storming the beach, their bodies and equipment stretching the coastline.

The thick Normandy bocage envelops roads like this one

Encountering the bocage for myself – thick, overgrown shrubs with tangled root systems – confirmed how the Germans were able to provide such formidable resistance to the American advance. These networks of dense plants lined the side of roads, confused GIs with their maze-like configuration, and supplied the Germans with perfect places for hidden defensive positions.

I quickly became overwhelmed with admiration and sadness when visiting the Normandy American Cemetery. Nearly 10,000 crosses dotted the stretch of land in perfect formation, each cross representing an American serviceman who made the ultimate sacrifice. I realized that many of the men in this cemetery were my age or younger and died fighting in a struggle that many felt they did not belong in. However, these men went on and climbed one hundred feet in the air, ran straight into German machine gun fire, and navigated unfamiliar land with a concealed enemy. The cliffs, beaches, and terrain provided me with a sobering understanding of the grim reality that American servicemen faced in Normandy and more appreciation for the surely impossible tasks they accomplished.

Only a small section of the Normandy American Cemetery

The Bayeux Countryside

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Walking through the fields and paths in the countryside of Bayeux was nothing short of a dream come true. The small town was unlike anything I had ever seen, with archaic buildings and unique restaurants. I decided to take a walk out of the town, however, and discovered a path leading to several fields and a church in the distance. The fields stretched out along hills as far as the eye could see. Trees and hedgerows lined the roads and the edges of fields all around me. There was a creek illuminated by the sun as it crept beneath the hills. Cows grazed in the pastures I passed by and inhabitants waved at me from their windows as I strolled through. I walked along a stone wall until I reached the old church, which appeared to be upwards of five hundred years old. The cool air and the sound of birds offered several key moments for reflection.

Recalling the readings from this semester and the depictions of it I had seen in the past, I imagined the countryside coming alive with the hum of artillery, tanks, and guns in the distance. I imagined myself traversing a path once trekked by the British army as they advanced towards the town. I imagined Charles De Gaulle driving down the main road through the city to greet the people of Bayeux after its liberation. Based on what I had learned previously, I imagined even further in the past the Normans using the area to prepare for their invasion of England. Getting the chance to walk on the same road as key historical figures offers an immersive experience with history that can’t be captured in a classroom. My walk in Bayeux has been one of the best moments on my trip so far. Though to some it may appear no different than any other countryside in Europe, the area of Bayeux boasts a rich amount of historical significance that goes back a thousand years.

<< Dans la Rue >>

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Paris is an incredibly unique city. From the absurdly built roads to the smells of the subway, everything about it is just uniquely Paris. On the first day while navigating the city, I was struck by Paris’ immense population of homeless people. They seemed to occupy every corner and every nook in the metro. There were people in sleeping bags and on staircases, with dogs and friends or alone. They were young and old, black and white, and all had the same sad look in their eyes. People were rushing right past them without even seeing them, so they sat quietly or slept and went largely unnoticed. And that is the worst part; people don’t want to see them because they make them uncomfortable or they are an obstacle or inconvenience. I know that Paris is a large metropolitan area and that homelessness is to be expected to a certain extent, but the number of homeless people was somewhat alarming to me. Homelessness is an issue that I find especially troubling and have always had a big heart for. So, I did a little digging to see if I could find out why.

According to France’s National Institute of Statistic and Economic Studies (INSEE), there are roughly 463,000 people who live below the poverty line in Paris alone. The INSEE also found that more than 12,000 people are currently homeless in France, and a homelessness census conducted in February 2019 found that more than 3,641 people are currently sleeping on the streets of Paris. The percentage of homeless people has increased by 21% in the last year. Many of the people who make up the homeless population are refugees and migrants coming from Africa and the Middle East. Rising unemployment also forced many other on to the streets. Compared to the entire population of Paris the homeless population only makes up a very small percentage, but 3,641 is no small number, and each of these people deserves a warm, dry and safe place to live. It baffles me here just as much as in the U.S. that a country with so much wealth seemingly does so little to help its homeless population.

A view of the Champs Élysees from the Arc de Triumph.

The Battle After D-Day

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By Matthew Bonner

We arrived in Bayeux, France on May 14th after sailing across the English Channel from Portsmouth, England. When visiting numerous museums along the beaches and other sites, I focused on both the commonalities and differences in the information compared to the discussions in our Spring semester class that revealed more about the French collective memory of the Second World War. In our class we analyzed the complex D-Day planning required between FDR and Churchill, firsthand accounts of the Operation Overlord, and the struggle for the French’s view of collaboration vs. resistance. The Caen Memorial Museum provided a good walk-through of the events leading up to the war, describing how World War I – “the war to end all wars” – set the stage for an even greater war, and provided details about the Fall of France and the Vichy regime from a unique French perspective. However, in the museum there was a difference in the total number of casualties per country depicted between other museums and in class, often with the Soviet Union casualties having most of the discrepancy. The difference reveals the challenge in quantifying the war and its impact on the countries, and how recent scholarship is revealing more accurate figures for the total losses.

 

Armbands featuring the Cross of Lorraine, a symbol of the Free French Forces led by Charles de Gaulle.

Another difference was a majority of the French museums, such as the Memorial Museum to the Battle of Normandy, overly highlighted the French Resistance efforts during the war. During our class we had discussed how the French resistance was present in small numbers, but not an extensive movement that dramatically altered the course of the war. The resistance can be small and still very important to French life, but the museum exaggerated the movement to be more widespread and systematic. The emphasis on Charles de Gaulle and the Free French Forces reveal how the French are still grappling with the war’s effects and their country’s occupation. France is still coming to terms with how the country was quickly occupied by Nazis and how to remember French Nazi collaborators and resistors. The French resistance is a captivating patriotic story, but when analyzing the war it is important to realize how the country has used it as a way to rationalize and make sense of a collaborative Vichy regime, occupation, and numerous deportations. By choosing to highlight positive resistance efforts and not fully address French Nazi collaborators, the full French war story is ignored.

Through the comprehensive museums in Normandy, one of the biggest takeaways and differences from class was the emphasis on the Battle of Normandy after D-Day. From the way I have always learned about the war and through the United States perspective, D-Day was the main emphasis of the invasion, and then in a few short weeks Paris was liberated. However those few short weeks meant everything to the people in northern France, especially in small French towns such as Bayeux. It is often forgotten that in preparation for the D-Day invasions Allied strategic bombings, designed to cut off transportation lines to the coast, killed over 20,000 French civilians. Additionally, many civilians suffered as the war raged through their small towns and villages as the Allies began to liberate France.

Grave of Robert E. Wright, Ohio State alumni, who set up a hospital in Angoville au Plain’s church for wounded soldiers.

For example, we visited Angoville au Plain, a village with a small church turned into a hospital during the war by a Ohio State alumnus, Robert E. Wright. Wright and other medics treated anyone in need at the small church – regardless of side in the war – as long as weapons were left outside. The small village where the church is located today had a population of around 64 people, and one can imagine how the war had a dramatic impact on the town as Allied troops during the liberation could have possibly doubled or tripled the total population! Additionally, the town of Bayeux had to add an outer belt circling around the city center to make way for the Allied equipment, as troops and tanks could not navigate through the small winding roads. Thus each French town and village on the road to Paris experienced the war, and their sacrifices and stories are a focus for the Normandy region. These sacrifices were not highlighted when learning about the war from the American perspective. On a larger scale the discrepancies between the museums and class highlight how each country remembers and grapples with the war’s legacy in different ways. Ultimately, it is important to compare the similarities and differences between the collective memories of the various countries to fully understand how the differences affect how each country thinks about themselves, others, and post-war events.