I’m not aware of any family members, friends or relatives of mine that served at Normandy. I know, and have known many WW2 veterans. In some way it could be said I’m a product of that war. I’m a baby boomer. My Dad came home from the war, having flown in B-24 bombers over enemy territory. Rarely did he speak of the destruction he witnessed when those bombs struck. Still I could see it in his eyes when asked, his response was always the same, a bowing of the head and I don’t know. It wasn’t something that had any control over him but it remained, as a memory he couldn’t forget. He has been gone for thirty years now, at peace. For all those men and women that served I did compose a bit of poetry. I offer it now, on D-Day as a tribute to them all.
In foreign soil
In foreign soil they lie in silence
their last words have been spoken
defending freedom was their cause
A quest that goes unbroken
They left their land
Their hearth and home
uncertain of return
expending their last breath
the light to discern
Crosses and stars
all in a row
at Normandy they lie
still serving, still waiting
even as time goes by
So today I light a candle
I will light the way
and in my heart
they will return today
return to join their brothers
all those that have fallen
all of those that spoke those words
and heard freedom calling
no matter the year
no matter the war
the gift will be the same
lives taken in payment
there memory remains.
Perhaps the verse, the stanza, the meter is incorrect. I am not a professional poet. I just write the words as they come to me, I do like things to rhyme, that’s the best poetry to me. I can’t fathom the fear, the anxiety and stress those men and women had to endure. To wade through surf pounding, loaded down with the trappings of a soldier while gunfire, bombs and shells exploded around you! To watch as the front of that transport opened and into the jaws of death itself. If we hadn’t succeeded on that day, this day seventy six years ago, we wouldn’t be here now. We’d all be speaking German or Japanese. But right prevailed, the cause was just. Our banner held high.
I once had the honor, the privilege of walking with such men, I’ve shaken hands with them, laughed with them, and seen them age. The greatest generation? Yes indeed they were. I can only dream, write words of praise. and try to keep their memory alive. But the most important thing, the thing that matters the most is, the battle was won! I’m forever grateful that such men lived, just as George Patton suggested I should. Lesson learned General, lesson learned.
” It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. ” George S Patton
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