It was cold in October of 1962 when I went to the drive-in with my veteran father to see the Longest Day. I believe it was the first time I saw him cry. That and the movie made a big mark on me.
Of all the places I want to go before I die Normandy is the highest on my list. I know it will be hard but that is foolish and self-absorbed of me compared to what the men of that day, the days before and the days after suffered.
I don’t believe I can ever be dried of tears to remember what these men endured and accomplished.
It is impossible to walk a battle ground and not feel humbled below the tops of my shoes. The intensity of the rage, brutality, horror, honor and love infuse the places and makes all other human endeavor and trial shrink to insignificance in these places where scores of young men meet their own judgement day.
I didn't know it at the time, but they were watching 'The Longest Day'.