Boys became men in crucible of World War II

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On Sunday, June 1, less than two weeks ago, I stood on Omaha Beach in Normandy, under a brilliant midday sun. We had walked from the entrance of the American Cemetery to the bluffs and then down to the water. In real time, I saw little French kids playing in the surf, a happy, though somewhat discordant note. In my mind’s eye, I saw young American soldiers, freezing and afraid, wave upon wave, rushing the beach in the predawn hours of June 6, 1944.

By June 6 last week, I was home again, watching the D-Day ceremonies on television. It was another bright day, with early summer light reflecting off the rows of crosses and Stars of David. President Obama shook the hands of veterans who survived the invasion 70 years ago and spoke of their courage and sacrifice. He honored the dead lying in graves that face West, toward America and home.

The single, most powerful realization for me is that the soldiers who fought and died at Normandy were an average age of 24. Of the 160,000 who came onshore, many were just 17 and 18 years old. They were unworldly and unsophisticated. When they entered the service, most of them had no idea what they would face in combat or that they would become part of the greatest invasion in history. They trained for years in bases in England for D-Day, although they did not know when or if it would take place. Far from family and away from home for the first time, they did what they had to do.

I returned home carrying with me an abiding respect for those men – over there – who saved the free world. That is not hyperbole. Against enormous odds and a relentless enemy, they came across the Channel and slogged their way up Point du Hoc and Omaha and Sword and Gold beaches. Dozens flew in on gliders; some floated down in parachutes, amidst deadly tracers and German artillery.

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