The bridge was critical. As the invasion of Normandy began, seizing and holding the La Fière bridge was one of three central objectives for the USAF. This route was essential for movement inland from Utah Beach and to prevent German reinforcements from moving west. It simply couldn’t be done without securing the bridge.
On the 70th anniversary of the Allied invasion of Normandy, a shot from June 6, 2012. Major Henry “Duke” Boswell at the La Fiere Causeway. After first seeing combat in Italy, Boswell parachuted into Ste. Mere Eglise, the first town to be liberated in the campaign. He would later fight in Holland and Belgium, where Operation Market Garden and the Battle of the Bulge, respectively, were critical points in the war. By 1945, of the original 146 men in Boswell’s G-Company, only 13 remained alive and uninjured.
Along a road leading to the Atlantic Ocean, away from the artillery batteries between the landing beaches Omaha and Gold.
Overlooking the Atlantic.
There are 2048 burials at the Canadian War Cemetery in Beny-sur-Mer, the majority of them Canadian. And many of these Canadians were from the 3rd Canadian Division, who died in the invasion on June 6 and the subsequent advance towards the key strategic town of Caen.
We were nearing the end of the tour, when the guide stopped walking. A few people opened umbrellas against the drizzling rain. The group gathered around her, leaning in to hear another story.
There are 4,648 soldiers buried in the Bayeux War Cemetery, the largest Commonwealth cemetery of the Second World War in France. There was little fighting in Bayeux, despite its strategic importance to the invasion of Normandy, so the burials come from fighting in surrounding regions.
Seen from atop the 30m cliffs, the surf crashes into the tip of Pointe du Hoc below. The barbed wire is to keep visitors from exploring the sheer cliff face, but in 1944, it was used by the Germans to keep invading Allied forces from advancing from the sea and capturing the huge guns emplaced here. That invasion came on the morning of June 6, 1944, at great cost to the Allies, who did not know that the guns had been moved just two days prior.
In the early morning light, a beautifully maintained C-47 sits on the flightline of the Cherbourg airport. We would later see it spooling up for its practice flights, in advance of the WWII-related ceremonies around the region that week.
There are no smiles here. There are no families with strollers and balloons and ice cream for the kids. There is nobody selling ornamental models of monuments. No souvenir key chains or fold-out postcard sets or coffee mugs or t-shirts. There are no smiles here. There is horror. There is anguish. There is silence. And death.