Amid the turbulence of a politically divided nation, it’s often hard to remember that America has, in its short history, shown itself capable of great things. Some are technological, such as the Apollo 11 mission. Some are social, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Some are medical, such as development of the cure for polio. And some are heroic, such as the invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe on June 6, 1944. D-Day. Remember?
There was a time when an awareness of D-Day was ever present in American society, at some level or another. The Longest Day. The Atlantic Wall. Omaha Beach. The boys of Pointe du Hoc. The church tower of Sainte-Mère-Église. June 6 was a special day.
And for good reason! According to most historians, it remains the largest seaborne invasion in history, involving well over 160,000 Allied troops and 5,000 ships, landing craft and escort vessels. Yet for much of the day, wicked English Channel currents conspired with fearsome Nazi fire and the general fog of war to convert the Omaha beachhead into a deadly cauldron. For a while, the outcome was in doubt.
Ultimately — and despite formidable opposition from an entrenched enemy force and heavy Allied casualties — the invasion succeeded. The Allies permanently reentered the continent they had been forced to abandon at Dunkirk four years earlier. In its success, the invasion established the foundation for the liberation of Western Europe and, ultimately, for victory over the Nazi regime.
We baby boomers learned of D-Day not necessarily from the history books but more so from the reverence it received from our fathers, our grandfathers, our uncles and our friends’ dads. From stories shared by our neighbors, our milkman, our postal carrier, our favorite gym teacher. Either they had crossed the Normandy beaches themselves, knew someone who had or had otherwise contributed to the effort that ended the European war. They passed on their memories.
But those people aren’t around anymore to share their stories. An 18-year-old private crossing Utah Beach in 1944 would be 98 this June 6. Nowadays, the term “D-Day” is more likely to be used in a generic way, to describe a big event; the day on which an important decision is to be made or a critical initiative is to kick off. And why not? It’s got an alliterative, snappy kick to it. Yet that use unintentionally marginalizes the significance of one of the most compelling days in American — if not world — history. And that’s a shame; D-Day should have only one meaning.
For D-Day was much more than a military endeavor of the greatest proportions. It was, as Supreme Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower described it, a “Great Crusade” — “the free men of the world marching together in a great and noble undertaking.” Indeed, in an interview with Walter Cronkite on the 20th anniversary of D-Day, Eisenhower observed that the Americans stormed the Normandy beaches “for one purpose only: not to gain anything for ourselves, not to fulfill any ambitions that America had for conquest, but just to preserve freedom, systems of self-government in the world.”
Think about that for a moment. Let it settle in.
America has, without a doubt, caused much harm to, and inflicted many injustices upon, its own citizens and those of other countries in its near 250-year existence. But the liberation of Europe, beginning with the D-Day invasion of Normandy, was not among them. Breaching the Atlantic Wall on that stormy day 80 years ago was and remains a shining example of the greatness America can achieve when it is committed to the larger good. And it’s an example that current generations have a distinct obligation to carry forward.
In his farewell address to the nation in 1988, President Ronald Reagan warned of an eradication of the American memory that could result, ultimately, in an erosion of the American spirit. He referenced a letter he had read publicly on the 40th anniversary of D-Day, written by a young woman to her father, who had fought on Omaha Beach. The letter proclaimed “we will always remember, we will never forget what the boys of Normandy did.’’
Reagan urged his listeners to “help her keep her word. If we forget what we did, we won’t know who we are.” And when you think about it, Reagan was on to something. It’s neither false patriotism nor jingoism to revisit the greatness of the American experiment and to pass it on. To remember who we are.
Given what looms on the horizon, the stakes are awfully high if we don’t.
Michael Peregrine is a Chicago attorney. His father served with the Army Air Corps occupation forces in Germany following World War II.
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