Just got back from our Independence Day get-together. For the last five years, my parents have hosted a pretty ginormous family gathering that usually sees upwards of 30-35 people. This year, for some strange reason, some extended family planned another get-together and only invited half the family. Yeah.
Anyway, we didn't let it deter us, and actually, this turned out to be a very nice evening. Carlos, Jill, and the kids came; Nancy brought Kevin (Mia's out of town); my Aunt Debra, newly escaped moved from California came; my grandmother was there, of course; and my parents invited some good friends of ours.
My dad grilled burgers and we chatted, ate, swam, and played a couple games. Everyone brought a card with info on an American (or Americans) who have made our country what it is today and we went around and alternately guessed/learned about them, and then we had a great patriotic Jeopardy! game that my mom and I had prepared a couple weeks ago during the long ride back from Dallas.
My dad usually spends several hundred bucks on fireworks, but we're in Stage 3 water restrictions, which is accompanied by a city/county-wide burn ban, and so the only "fireworks" we could mess around with were Blackcats and sparklers. The kids really loved them, though, and that's all that's important.
That was followed by more fellowship, food, and fun. It truly was a fantastic evening.
I didn't bring my camera, so I stole these from some friends who were there (who said Facebook wasn't handy?):
I'm in the middle of making a patriotic mix for our Independence Day get-together at my parents' house this evening (I could listen to Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White & Blue [The Angry American]" on repeat every day) and writing up index cards on famous Americans who have helped make our country what is today for myself and my nieces and nephews -- I'm Martha Bratton, Kailin is Betsy Ross, Emily is Molly Pitcher, my sister is Sacagawea, my brother-in-law is Meriwether Lewis, Elijah is William Clark, and Kevin is General George S. Patton.
Red, white, and blue cupcakes and cookies are ready for transport. I've got my "One Nation Under God" shirt on and a cute new red hairband in my hair (I don't even have to bobby-pin my bangs back anymore).
But I wanted to take a moment and post this inspirational column from Karl Rove. It made me cry.
Rather than the Cindy Sheehans of this world who parlay their grief into angry attacks on our country, this is what true patriotism and honor is all about.
A Family's Valor, a Nation's Freedom
By Karl Rove
Wall Street Journal, July 2, 2009
At a dinner last week in California, I was reminded of the debt we owe to those who have, for 233 years, sustained our freedom and independence. One remarkable family in particular exemplifies the best in the American spirit of courage and sacrifice.
Sitting at my table was a friend, Christine Krissoff, wife of Dr. Bill Krissoff and mother of Nathan and Austin Krissoff. One of her sons, Marine First Lt. Nathan Krissoff, was killed in Al Anbar Province in December 2006. A Williams College grad, athlete and musician, he'd left for Iraq on the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. He was 25.
I met his parents and brother in Nevada in August 2007 while accompanying President George W. Bush to Reno, Nev. The president was there to address the American Legion before meeting with local families who'd lost a loved one in Iraq or Afghanistan. Mr. Bush has met with about 550 families in private visits like this. At those meetings, he would have a senior staff member close by in case there was something that needed to be followed up on, such as getting a flag to a family member.
We entered a small room in the back of the convention center to find the Krissoffs waiting -- the father in a black suit with his arms crossed and the mother in a plain dark outfit. Their dress contrasted with their son Austin's Marine dress uniform. Like his older brother, Austin had volunteered for service after college. He was to be deployed to Iraq in March 2008.
During my White House years, I saw few people with the quiet power, intelligence and poise of Chris Krissoff. She talked about her sons, the pain of her loss, her concern for her youngest when he went into harm's way, and the stakes in the War on Terror. The entire time, her husband was quiet.
When stories had been told, tears wept, and grief expressed, Mr. Bush asked if he could do anything. At that, Bill Krissoff spoke.
"Yes," he said. "I'm a pretty good orthopedic surgeon. When my younger son is deployed to Iraq next March, I would like to be working as a Navy medical officer, but they won't let me because I am 61 years old. Will you give me an age waiver, Mr. President?" Mr. Bush pointed to me. Dr. Krissoff and I exchanged business cards and he promised to fax me his application.
I checked him out on the way back to Washington. His reputation was that of an outstanding trauma and sports medicine surgeon. He was also a marathon runner and a really fine person.
Two days later, I placed Bill's application on the president's desk before he met with Gen. Peter Pace, chairman of the Joint Chiefs. I made sure Gen. Pace had the file when he left. He promised to get back soon with an answer. I told him that he would have to get back to someone else: The next day was my last day at the White House. One of the last things I did before turning in my badge was to write Bill Krissoff to wish him well.
A day later, I was in West Texas for the start of dove season. While waiting for the next flight of birds, I realized I hadn't written Mrs. Krissoff. So I sat down that night at the Gage Hotel in Marathon and did. She had already lost her oldest son. Her younger son was preparing to deploy to Iraq. Meanwhile, her husband wanted to give up their comfortable life, career and friends so he could honor their sons by joining the military at age 61. And she had given her full, heartfelt support.
A few weeks later, I received a note saying Bill had received his waiver and a chance to pass basic training. A few months later, I was invited to the commissioning ceremony for Lt. Commander William Krissoff, United States Navy Medical Reserve.
Bill emailed me this April about his duties as a combat surgeon in Iraq. He sent photos of himself with Austin, who is now on his second tour there. This is how father, mother and brother are honoring the sacrifice of Nathan. While sharing this story with the audience last week, I found myself unable to look at Christine until I finished and the crowd rose to applaud her.
Watching the smoke rise from the Battle of Bunker Hill, Abigail Adams wrote her husband John, who was away at the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia. While she and others lived "in continual Expectation of Hostility," Abigail wrote, "like good Nehemiah, having made our prayer with God, and set the people with their Swords, their Spears, and their bows, we will say unto them, Be not affraid of them."
Christine Krissoff's husband and sons, wrapped in prayers and armed with swords and scalpels, have served our nation with valor. So has she. So long as our nation produces families like the Krissoffs, America will remain not only the greatest nation on earth, but also the most noble in history.
That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. (Declaration of Independence)
It is, perhaps, no coincidence that the three books I am reading as the Fourth of July looms -- Common Sense by Glenn Beck; Liberty and Tyranny by Mark Levin; Saving Freedom by Senator Jim DeMint -- all deal with the necessity of our return to the conservative principles of our Founders, lest the freedom we have enjoyed since our country's inception be swallowed by the brand of "soft tyranny" practiced by the Left and our own president.
I have watched incredulously as large portions of our society have been more enamored by whether or not Jon and Kate would get divorced; by Perez Hilton's latest despicable comment; by the death of Michael Jackson, virtually ignoring the march to socialism that our government, led by Barack Obama, is perpetrating on us all.
Mark Levin writes in his best-selling Liberty and Tyranny (ignored by all in the mainstream media despite the fact that it was number one 11 out of 12 weeks):
The Conservative is alarmed by the ascent of a soft tyranny and its cheery acceptance by the neo-Statist. He knows that liberty once lost is rarely recovered. He knows of the decline and eventual failure of past republics. And he knows that the best prescription for addressing society's real and perceived ailments is not to further empower an already enormous federal government beyond its constitutional limits, but to return to the founding principles. A free people living in a civil society, working in self-interested cooperation, and a government operating within the limits of its authority promote more prosperity, opportunity, and happiness for more people than any alternative. Conservatism is the antidote to tyranny precisely because its principles are the founding principles.
And finally, it seems appropriate -- indeed, necessary -- to finish with words that have never been more timely than now:
When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, -- That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. -- Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government.
Happy Fourth of July.
I like Gossip Girl. I find it endlessly entertaining, and the crueler and more vindictive Blair Waldorf is, the more entertained I am. Of course, I'm an adult and not part of the very young, very naive, very immature demographic the show -- and its network -- targets.
Unlike the real, flesh-and-blood teenaged girls the show pretends to portray, I know that, while the fashions are cool and why I would love to be able to afford to drop $1500 on a dress, I don't have to dress a certain way (or expose a certain portion of my assets to the world) to be accepted.
A couple weeks ago when I was watching, it occurred to me that, with the exception of the token 15-year-old, those teenaged characters have had multiple sex partners, and all before they were 18. All three of the boys have basically been victims of stat rape (although it's en vogue if it's consensual -- what's so consensual about an adult having sex with a kid, even if said kid thinks he wants it?), and I don't know if Serena herself knows how many guys she's slept with.
All in all, they all treat this chronic bed-hopping very casually. I know in the real world that type of behavior is in no way, shape, manner or form fulfilling and is actually emotionally scarring. But that's not addressed. Not really. Sadly, I'm sure the majority of Gossip Girl's very young, very susceptible audience is going to learn that lesson the hard way.
Why is Hollywood so intent on sexualizing children? Movies, TV shows, photo shoots...I'm sorry, what was so appealing about making then-15-year-old Miley Cyrus look like she'd just had sex? Why did Dakota Fanning's parents even allow her to take part in Hound Dog, a movie that depicted the violent rape of a young child? And how did that script even get green-lit in the first place?
I am of the opinion that kids are kids, and no matter how mature a kid may seem, he or she is still a kid. Hence the need for boundaries. For making sure books with mature themes do not become part of English curricula in public schools. (The argument that they probably already know about that stuff anyway is ridiculous. There's a difference between basic awareness and blatant exposure.) For heeding ratings -- which aren't always appropriate anyway; there's a lot of PG-13 stuff out there that I wouldn't let my nieces and nephews see.
I'm thankful that amidst the culturally-accepted glamorization of sex without the responsibility and reality that comes with it, there are still those willing to say, "Hey, wait a minute -- it's not all it's cracked up to be."
Taylor Swift wrote a song called "Fifteen" that's on her latest album. It is a fantastic song and reminded me of what it's like to be teetering on that threshold of childhood and almost-but-not-quite-adulthood. The last part of the song chokes me up every time because I know so many Abigails:
"When all you wanted was to be wanted, wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now; back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday, but I realized some bigger dreams of mine; and Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind, and we both cried, 'cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them; and when you're fifteen, don't forget to look before you fall; I've found that time can heal most anything and you just might find who you're supposed to be, I didn't know who I was supposed to be at fifteen."
On her debut album, one of my favorite songs is called "Tied Together With a Smile," and this theme is addressed once more:
"I guess it's true that love was all you wanted, 'cause you're giving it away like it's spare change, hoping it will end up in his pocket, but he leaves you out like a penny in the rain 'cause it's not his price to pay; you're tied together with a smile, but you're coming undone..."
Finally, Kellie Pickler's got a song climbing the charts right now called "Don't You Know You're Beautiful." The video is adorable -- it shows dozens of "average" girls playing soccer and swimming and roller-skating. My favorite part is as follows:
"Hey, there, little homecoming queen in that back seat, I bet his brown eyes are promising you everything; I know you want to be just like your friend, but he'll still love you if you don't give in; if those girls are being honest that have been where you're at, I bet they'd tell you they wish they had their innocence back..."
That's the true message that we should be highlighting with the girls -- and the boys -- in our lives.
And so I'm still entertained by Gossip Girl, but with every exploit and ploy and scheme, my heart hurts for the real-life Blairs and Serenas out there who won't get to take it all back when they find out that life isn't a Hollywood concotion.
Sometimes I feel like I need a break from my break from reality. I used to use reading primarily as a source of escapism, but what I've been reading lately is far from that -- in fact, it's plunging me right into a horrible and very prescient reality.
After November, I was weary of being so, well, well-informed. So I took a break from reality, as far as current events and politics went. But that was ignorant of me. Apathy and ambivalence have no place in intelligent society.
So I've shelved my light and fluffy reading for now, and instead am delving into books that will serve to further my understanding of the times in which we find ourselves. I'm reading Joel Rosenberg's Inside the Revolution right now.
Also, I've become so increasingly burdened for Israel, that I'm looking for more ways to get involved with Mr. Rosenberg's organization, The Joshua Fund. If they go to Jerusalem for Easter next year, the way they have the past two years, I'm definitely going. Even though it'll mean abandoning my fall and spring "fun" trips to California and the East Coast.
I'm not sure if the average person would describe In the Land of Women and Elizabethtown as depressing, but they certainly do the trick for me.
I watched them back-to-back last night after not having seen either of them in at least a year.
They are two of my favorite movies, but wow, they put me in a lovely mood. It's going to be a long week.
Laughter incited by sexually perverted comments made by a 62-year-old male celebrity aimed at a 14-year-old girl is not only disgusting, but it reminds us some Hollywood/NY entertainers have a long way to go in understanding what the rest of America understands — that acceptance of inappropriate sexual comments about an underage girl, who could be anyone’s daughter, contribute to the atrociously high rate of sexual exploitation of minors by older men who use and abuse others.” — Governor Sarah Palin
It’s taken me until now to write about this, because I have been so outraged and sick about this entire situation that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to succinctly convey my thoughts.
I’ve always thought David Letterman was an angry, misogynistic excuse of a human being, and this week, that opinion was vindicated with perfect clarity.
First, Letterman referenced what he calls Alaskan governor Sarah Palin’s “slutty flight attendant” look. Later, in regards to the fact that Governor Palin and her 14-year-old daughter, Willow, attended a New York Yankees game, he jokes that Willow was knocked up by Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez. He also remarked that the governor might have a hard time keeping Willow away from former New York governor Eliot Spitzer, who was caught visiting a prostitute — so in effect, he called Willow a prostitute.
There was an immediate outrage from mostly conservatives, although, to be fair, Salon.com, the New Agenda, and the National Organization for Women rightly called for an end to the culture’s pervasive sexism no matter its target. (Although where was NOW during the campaign, when Governor Palin was subjugated to truckloads of similarly sexist smear tactics from the Left?)
Letterman attempted to apologize Wednesday evening, but it was about as far from an apology as one can get — it basically boiled down to “Oops, I thought I was talking about Bristol, the 18-year-old,” and his tired “I’m Dave, I’m goofy, look at me” spiel. He shrugged it off with a smirk amidst a similarly tittering audience and never once did he directly apologize to either Governor Palin or Willow.
Please, tell me how intending to direct such reprehensible, demeaning comments at an 18-year-old girl is any better than a 14-year-old? Is that really a defense? An apology? “Oops, I didn’t mean to imply your 14-year-old was raped — I really meant to imply your 18-year-old was raped.” Seriously? And yet, there are people readily accepting that excuse.
Thankfully, the Palins weren’t buying it.
“Nice attempt by Letterman to draw the heat away from himself,” First Gentleman Todd Palin said in a statement, “however, Willow was the only one at the Yankees game and the only Palin child included in the photo opportunities with the Giulianis, as was obvious. Regardless of which Palin daughter it was, Bristol, Willow, or Piper, these sexually perverted comments are outside the acceptance of mainstream America.”
By the way, yes, the comment was about rape. Non-consensual sex of any type — even as the butt of a joke — is rape. It shouldn’t be trivialized or painted with humor or taken lightly at any time, and to involve children? I can’t think of a disgusting enough word to convey my opinion of David Letterman. I wonder if he’s going to teach his son, Harry, to view women in such a demeaning manner. What a role model.
Letterman actually had the audacity in his non-apology to invite the Palins on his show as a sign of “good will.” Sarah Palin’s response via a statement was that she and her family had no intention of providing a ratings boost for the show by appearing, and that “it would be wise to keep Willow away from David Letterman.”
I am sick and tired of the double standards. Malia and Sasha Obama were off-limits during the campaign, but Sarah Palin’s children were fair game. There were even horrendous comments directed at her youngest, Trig, who has Down Syndrome. Bristol has been maligned for having a child out of wedlock. Now Willow’s been made the butt of a rape joke. What’s next in the unending cycle of Palin Insanity Syndrome? Victimizing eight-year-old Piper Palin?
Don Imus was excoriated for his comments about the Rutgers basketball team, and he was fired by Les Moonves — president of CBS.com. Imus bent over backwards apologizing. He met with the basketball team and apologized personally. He spent two hours on Al Sharpton’s radio show apologizing. And he was still thrown under the bus. But because Sarah Palin is a conservative, because she’s attractive, because she’s well-spoken and stands for everything the liberals — especially liberal feminists — abhor, she’s considered fair game. David Letterman gets away with calling her slutty and attacking her children, and Les Moonves doesn’t say word one about it.
I think I’m almost more disgusted, though, by the reaction of some in the general public. There’s either no reaction, or the whole “he’s a comedian” excuse, or even, “It wasn’t even a funny joke.” Right. Like that makes it all okay. Where has the decency and morality in this society gone, I’d like to know?
Republican National Committee chairman Michael Steele has called for the boycott of Letterman’s show, and I’ll definitely be doing so. I never watched regularly before anyway, but now I will not be watching at all. I’ve also contacted my local CBS affiliate, the national CBS affiliate, and all of Letterman’s sponsors, threatening to boycott them as well.
This culture of sexism and exploitation, especially when it comes to children, needs to stop, and it needs to stop now.
America stands for liberty, for the pursuit of happiness, and for the unalienable right to life. This right to life cannot be granted or denied by government because it does not come from government; it comes from the Creator of life." -- President George W. Bush
Since my parents leave Thursday morning for their 35th anniversary Mediterranean cruise (they'll be spending two weeks in Barcelona, Marseilles, Paris, Rome, Venice, and Florence), I'll be doing a lot of the planning for our annual Fourth of July bash.
The Fourth is definitely one of my favorite holidays. My grandfather died on July 5, 1996, and so since then it has become even more nostalgic and a little bittersweet. One of my fondest memories of my tough, unflappable grandfather was that he'd cry like a baby on two occasions: any time the Star-Spangled Banner played and any time he prayed. It should go without saying that we are fiercely pro-military and unapologetically patriotic in my family.
My mom and I took my grandmother up to Dallas this weekend (she can no longer stay alone, and so while my parents are gone, she'll be spending time with my uncle in Dallas and then my uncle in Lake Charles, La.), and on our way back, we planned out all of the categories and questions for our Fourth of July Jeopardy! game. There's presidential trivia, state facts, early American history, patriotic songs...it's going to be awesome. I'm just bummed that I can't participate since, obviously, I know all the answers.
I'm in charge of the music, naturally. I've already started a list. I'm going to mix in stuff like Taps and the songs of all four branches of the Armed Forces with favorites like God Bless America and America the Beautiful and patriotic, pro-America greats like Toby Keith's "American Soldier" and "Courtesy of the Red, White & Blue (Angry American)," Darryl Worley's "Have You Forgotten," and, of course, the seminal "Proud to Be an American" by Lee Greenwood. I'm sure I'll include "Travelin' Soldier" by the Dixie Chicks. It's a great song, even if they're not.
My dad grills out, everyone swims, and then when it gets dark, my dad and all the kids (we've got 18 kids aged 14 and under in our massive extended family) unleash the barrage of fireworks my dad spends hours purchasing. Everyone dresses in their best patriotic garb. I just bought a cool grey t-shirt with a small, distressed American flag superimposed over 1776 and down the side in navy is written 'One Nation Under God.' I've got red flip-flops with white stars on the soles (Old Navy flips are the best), and a navy-and-white head band.
This year will be especially cool because my parents are having a 20-foot telescoping flag pole installed on the property and we're going to proudly fly the American and Texan flags. (I'm pushing for the Come and Take It flag, too.)
I'm really looking forward to the celebration -- it has truly become quite the tradition.
If I didn't have God in my life -- and I'm talking a real, personal relationship, not a figurehead for something cosmic and esoteric and otherwise meaningless -- I honestly don't know how I'd survive on a daily basis.
This isn't meant to be a Hallmark, sunshine-and-rainbows statement. I certainly am not a sunshine-and-rainbows kind of person. God certainly knows my nature and my heart and my tendency to doubt first and trust later (only after I've received confirmation that everything will somehow be okay). He's certainly spent many front-porch moments like the father in the parable waiting patiently for me to wake up and drag myself out of the mud of my own making and stumble home yet again.
What I'm trying to say is that I can't imagine how much harder my life would be if I didn't have an unwavering belief in God. I may doubt a lot of things, but I've never doubted that He exists, that He loves me, and that because I have placed my faith in Jesus Christ, when I die, I will spend an eternity in a place where there will be, as Revelation 21:4 says, "...no more death or mourning or crying or pain."
Of course, that doesn't stop me from being, well, me. I'm encouraged that Peter started out as a perpetual screw-up and doubter, too, and yet Jesus still used him to impact the lives of many.
Jason Wade of Lifehouse has written a song called "Storm" that reminds me of the story in the Bible where Jesus appears to his disciples in the midst of a storm, walking on the water toward their boat. They're unsure of who it is, and Peter calls out that if it's really Jesus, for him to command Peter to come to him. Jesus does, and so Peter steps over the side of the boat and starts walking toward him on the surface. And then classic Peter, he notices the raging waves and the storm, and the minute he takes his eyes off Jesus, he starts sinking.
That is definitely me. The whole song resonates with me, but especially the part that says,"I know you didn't bring me here to drown; so why am I ten feet under and upside down? Barely surviving has become my purpose because I'm so used to living underneath the surface."
Another song he wrote, called "Broken," is one I play over and over whenever I find myself in a downward spiral. I love that he is so honest in it. He doesn't try and pretend everything's shiny and happy the way so many people do when talking to God. At the beginning, he's asking if there is healing amidst the pain and whether or not he can find meaning in his circumstances, but by the end he's switched "is there" with "there is". My favorite line of the song is, "I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home."
And finally, another storm-themed song by Casting Crowns can always shine light into the darkest depths of my circumstances. Mark Hall tells the story of a little girl dying of a horrible disease and how he and his bandmates were so certain that God was going to intervene and heal her because of their prayers and how she died anyway. And yet, even in the midst of their pain and confusion and even anger, he was able to truthfully write the words of this song, including the powerful first verse:
"I was sure by now, God, you would have reached down
And wiped our tears away, stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say, 'Amen,' and it's still raining
As the thunder rolls, I barely hear you whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you;" and as your mercy falls,
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away..."
Even as I am daily discouraged and disheartened by the state of our country and the world around us is threatening to crumble with "wars and rumors of wars," I am thankful that, as Psalm 121:1-2 says, "I lift up my eyes to the hills -- where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth."
I am uploading beautiful live versions of the songs I referenced. I hope they encourage you as much as they have encouraged me.
"Our landings in the Cherbourg-Le Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air, and the Navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to this attempt it is mine alone." -- General Dwight David Eisenhower, 5 June 1944
Sixty-five years ago today, the Allied Forces, led by Dwight D. Eisenhower, launched the biggest military maneuver ever conducted at that time. The overall operation was named Operation Overlord by British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and lasted until August 25, 1944. The Normandy Landings, or D-Day, took place on June 6 and began what was the turning point of World War II, allowing the Allied Forces to liberate France and gain a strategic foothold in mainland Europe.
General Eisenhower wrote the above note the day before D-Day. Because he was the supreme allied commander, he shouldered the responsibility of the mission at Normandy — be it failure or victory. Thankfully, he never had to remove the note from his pocket.
In his book War Stories III: The Heroes Who Defeated Hitler, former Marine Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North writes extensively about D-Day. He includes first-person accounts from soldiers who fought to secure Omaha Beach, and I’d like to include an excerpt from Army Staff Sergeant Walter D. Ehlers (Company L, 3rd Battalion, 18th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division).
“Two days before D-Day my platoon was assigned a special mission. As soon as we landed in the second wave we were to punch through a ravine to the high ground about 500 yards off the beach. As it turned out we came in right after the first wave, about two hours ahead of the second wave. When we got to where we were supposed to punch through, the beach hadn’t yet been cleared and everyone in front of us was pinned down.
It was something because all the way into the beach in our Higgins boat we had been watching all these waves of planes passing over us — and the firing of all those big naval guns fromt he battleships and cruisers — and then closer in, the rocket ships firing. But when we got to the beach, there were all these guys getting hit from these German emplacements. Some of the rockets struck the German pillboxes and hit them, but they didn’t do anything to them because they were so fortified.
We hit a sand bar. And I asked the coxswain driving the Higgins boat, ‘Is this as far as we’re going?’ And he said, ‘We can’t go any farther, we’re on a sand bar.’ So he let the ramp down and we got out — and naturally, on the other side of the sand bar, we went down into the water almost over our heads. My second in command, a sergeant, was so short he was pulled under the water. But we all managed to get to the beach.
When we got to the high water mark there was this incredibly brave beach master — standing there under fire — and directing traffic! I ran up to him and asked, ‘What direction do you want us to go from here?’ He said, ‘Go straight ahead, and follow that path — otherwise you’ll be in a minefield.’ So we did, despite the many bodies on our right and left. They were the guys from the first wave who were killed trying to get through the mines.
We raced inland some distance, and came to a row of barbed wire and two men from an engineer unit were lying there. One of them said, ‘We’re pinned down! As soon as we move, they fire on us.’
I told him, “We’ll cover you. We’ll fire up into the trenches while you guys blow the barbed wire with your Bangalore torpedo.’ They did it — although one guy was killed in the process. We rushed into the German trenches and I was feeling pretty good because I had gotten my squad of twelve soldiers across the beach without being killed even though the first wave had 50 percent casualties, and the second wave suffered 30 percent casualties. Some of the companies and individual squads or platoons even lost 100 percent to casualties” (pp. 228-29).
Colonel North concludes the chapter: “By nightfall on D-Day the Allies had landed over 150,000 troops on the five invasion beaches. There were more than 5,000 Allied casualties, but they had cracked Hitler’s Atlantic Wall. Within days, a quarter of a million more men, thousands of tanks, trucks, and nearly a million tons of supplies would be pouring into Fortress Europe. And Dwight Eisenhower’s unsent message accepting responsibility for a disaster at Normandy would wait four years before becoming public” (p. 233).
My great-great-uncle was killed that first fateful day charging Omaha Beach, and his white cross is one of but thousands that line Normandy American Cemetery. Though I never knew him, I am thankful for his sacrifice and the sacrifices of the nearly 1,500 American servicemen (and more than 5,000 overall) who lost their lives at Normandy on June 6, 1944.
