Family vacation, probably in 1995.
I was in-processing my Army unit in Germany when the fortieth anniversary of D-Day happened; but, alas, I couldn't leave. I wanted so much to be there to meet the old surviving veterans, to shake their hands and hear their stories. I had read accounts of D-Day-- June 6th, 1944. I had already seen several times the film The Longest Day, based on the book by Cornelius Ryan. Eventually my family followed me back to Germany, and we later took a vacation that included Normandy. We visited Sainte-Mere-Eglise, and I pointed out the manekin of Private john Steele--the paratrooper that had gotten stuck on the church's steeple. We visited the upper German fortifications of Point Du Hoc, where Army Rangers fought their way up impossible cliffs. We paid our respects at the US war cemetery on Omaha Beach, and my sons and I walked where so many Americans had died to free Europe. My wife was very somber and respectful at these sites; she is French, and grew up hearing stories of the German occupation. I often still watch on June 6th either The Longest Day, or Saving Private Ryan, and try to imagine my forebears on those beaches.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.