Last weekend, on a bit of a whim, my friend Laurent and I chucked the bare essentials and my kite into his car and headed for the coast.
The forecast was blustery showers, which would have made for perfect kite flying conditions, but once again the weather men were wrong and we arrived to find bright sunshine, clear skies and not a breath, not even a whisper of wind. Damn!
Luckily we had a plan B, and made our way through beautiful serene Normandy villages that just 60 years back were the backdrop for the D-day landings.
Its only when you grow up that you realise just how freaking pointless some of the hours you spent at school were. Of course maths is damn useful, as are the other 2 R's, and a good foundation of science, the arts and a language never hurt anyone. But why on earth did we spent weeks learning dead kings & queens, the Battle of Hastings and the Spanish crusaders when really none of that matters? Why did we breeze through the first & second world wars in a couple of wet afternoon classes with just crappy news clippings and a Robert Graves poem for backdrop when what happened then shaped our world and lives so significantly today?
My frustration stems from me now being old enough to appreciate the outcome and after effects of June 6th 1944. Unfortunately my crappy education left me none the wiser as to what really happened, either on that day or the events in the weeks and years beforehand.
Luckily the American Battle Monuments Commission have an incredibly little museum at the American Cemetery in Colleville sur Mer. It walks you through the 'highlights' of WWII with a series of displays that helped me understand the sheer enormity of what the allied forces did back then.
As a project manager I'm sensitive to the logistics and attention to detail required to pull something off well and the team work that's needed to make it all happen. Never had a I really stopped and thought about just how much work, planning, co-ordination and imagination went on back then. For example I never knew about 'Rupert'.
Standing about 4ft tall made from sacking and stuffed full of tiny 'fire-cracker' explosives, hundreds of self-destructing 'Ruperts' were parachuted behind enemy lines along the coast just days before the invasion. The men that landed with them were armed with flare guns and record players and their faux attacks caused panic and confusion, leading German forces away from the actual landing sites.
'Ruperts' were just one of the ways the allied forces out-foxed the enemy. Whole battalions of inflatable tanks were pitched out in fields along the British coast to intimidate the Luftwaffe spy planes and their sneaky photographers.
The ingenious of the tactics are captivating but the weight of what's beyond the museum helps put everything into perspective.
Rows upon rows upon rows of graves; small white crosses and stars of David stretch as far as the eye can see, perfectly tended with not a blade of grass or leaf out of place. Off to the right lies Omaha beach; peaceful, calm, flat, still. Its horribly surreal, horribly still.
Looking left you see Juno, in the distance is Gold, off right sits Sword, and shimmering in the distant heat is Utah. Many of the physical traces of what happened here have disappeared but the names have stuck. No one seems to remember what the beaches were called before.
Leaving Colleville with heavy hearts we continued West to 'Point du Hoc' where the physical scars of war remain.
The site sits 100ft (30m) up a sheer cliff face and was the home to some Nazi's heavy guns that were capable of doing some serious damage to the allied flotilla and landing forces. The 2nd Ranger's relentlessly scaled the cliff to take out the guns and of the 225+ that started out only 90 were still alive and fit to fight after 2 days. The assault on the whole was a bit of a blunder as the guns had been moved a mile away just days beforehand, but the story demonstrates well the selflessness and determination with which those guys fought and the hundreds of huge bomb holes around the site ensures you understand just how violent and relentless the battle was.
I didn't learn enough about what happened back then in my two days on the coast but I'm pretty sure i'll be going back again sometime and i'll start doing my homework so i'm better prepared next time. I did learn though that Laurent's grandfather fought in North Africa, like my grandfather, under Mountbatten. Unfortunately its not surprising that French and English neighbours grandfathers fought together thousands of miles away 60-odd years ago - everyone's grandfathers were fighting back then.
Sadly the weather never did deteriorate, the sun stayed out and the wind stayed away for the entire weekend. We made feeble attempts to get the kite up but failed, hanging out in the sunshine and eating hot dogs and sauerkraut instead! I'm not complaining though, like I said, I know i'll be going back.
x
