Normandy

Our visit to the Normandy beach area was a jarring experience in an unexpected way: it was pretty and serene. I’d seen the movies and TV series and photos which memorialize the carnage and heroics and devastation and anguish and fear and chaos and determination that accompanied the Allied invasion on June 6, 1944, and I suppose I was carrying some unacknowledged angst with me about seeing it. It would have been entirely reasonable to expect that 68 years later things would look and feel different, but I hadn’t let that thought resonate before arriving there.

Utah and Omaha are beautiful beaches. It was an unusually lovely day with a calm surf. We walked on the sand, picked up shells, looked back toward the higher ground and tried to imagine the gun emplacements that were directed not toward the sea but across the beaches, which enabled a slaughtering crossfire. We wondered what stormy seas looked like, the horizon full of landing vehicles, the beaches strewn with debris and bodies, deafening noise. But it was hard to conjure. On our day there were recreational activities taking place on the beaches; horse trotters, wind surfers. People wandered about, walked slowly around the monuments, and looked to the sea in silence.

Pointe du Hoc was different. There the cliffs allowed one’s imagination to engage in wonderment that the Rangers scaled these heights and disabled the guns here along with those that overlooked Utah and Omaha beaches. Destroyed bunkers and the ruins of fortifications can be explored and the ground is heavily pocked by the results of the massive bombing runs that took place before the invasion. The battle scars are visible and one can sense concussion, chaos, and catastrophe.

It is at the Normandy American Cemetery that the story becomes one of solemnity and reverence. We arrived there late in the day, and walked through the grave sites to the overlook above Omaha Beach.

The Memorial site includes a beautiful 22’ statute, “The Spirit of American Youth Rising from the Waves” which faces in the direction of the headstones. We learned that, when possible, family members were asked whether they wished to have their loved one interred here, or returned home. There are 9,387 headstones here, 41 sets of brothers, 3 Medal of Honor recipients, and 1,557 listed as missing in action. We were present for the flag lowering ceremony and playing of Taps at the end of the day.

Earlier that morning, one of our group arrived at breakfast wearing freshly pressed clothes and was chided about looking better than the rest of us. He responded that he was going to pay his respects that day. He was right. That’s exactly what the entire day was all about.

If one is very lucky, a visit to France includes the incredible Mont Saint-Michel. Located a treacherous half mile off the north western coast (about a 3-1/2 hour drive from Paris), the rocky island has held an impressive place in history since the 6th century. The first view of the abbey on approach from the flatlands is mystical, and it’s hard to imagine what a pilgrim felt when approaching Mont Saint-Michel a thousand years ago after a very long and arduous journey.

From the mainland, early pilgrims had to deal with very powerful tides to reach the island. Water levels can range as much as 46 feet between high and low tides, and the surf covers the access causeway at great speed. Quicksand and fog and wind added to their dangers. They arrived on Mont Saint-Michel tired, hungry, and wet, and a small village grew around the base of the abbey to meet their recovery needs.

A present day visitor parks a car, boards a shuttle bus to cross a causeway, and enters the gates of a medieval village with narrow, winding streets jammed with crowds during the day. [A new construction project is underway to return the island to an island, making the causeway accessible only when tides permit]. We were put off by the shops and inns and restaurants and tourist souvenirs until we were learned that early pilgrims would have found it very familiar. They needed all the resources the village could offer, and wanted souvenirs to take home to commemorate their ascent to the abbey.

First used as a strategic fortification against invading hordes, Mont Saint-Michel became the home of the Saint Michael monastery in the 8th century. According to legend, the local bishop was instructed by Archangel Michael to build a church on the rock, [a site which would be a construction challenge even today.] The abbey was completed in the 16th century; fortifications were added in the fifteenth century to protect against cannon fire. In the Hundred Years War, the English took all of Normandy, but never this island.

Monks lived in isolation here, and the island became an important pilgrimage center as the faithful came to climb closer to God. By the time of the French Revolution, few monks remained and the abbey was closed and converted into a prison. The prison was closed in 1863 and Mont Saint-Michel became a national monument in 1874. It has been a UNESCO World Heritage site since 1979.

Our tour arrived late in the day as other visitors were leaving, and we stayed overnight on the island when it felt deserted and even more mysterious. We walked around town and into the village church, which has a lovely silver Saint Michael, and an old graveyard. There are less than 100 full time inhabitants on the island now. The weather that night was awful, the wind was wild, and the rain and fog were chilling. I could barely stand in the wind 20 yards from the gate, tidal water swirled across my feet, and I gave up on trying for the iconic night photo of the illuminated abbey from the end of the causeway for fear of being blown into the sea.

Early the next morning we climbed, very slowly, to the top of the abbey. Even from the village, it is a long walk. We began as food supplies were just arriving to the island for the day, and walked up into wind and rain and fog.

It was an awesome experience, and I rarely use the word awesome. It is unimaginable that Mont Saint-Michel was ever built, let alone withstood the ravages of time. [Check out my Flickr link for many more photos if you’re interested.]