In May 1994, Bill and I sailed to Normandy for the 50th Anniversary of D-Day, the landing of the Allied Forces on 6 June 1944 on the beaches of Normandy. The trip didn’t go as planned. Here’s  an account from my journal.  – Sandra

 

D-Day, A Return to Normandy 50 Years Later

In 1994, Bill was invited to sail to Normandy for the 50th anniversary of D-Day on the historic World War II Liberty ship, SS Jeremiah O’Brien. The ship was made seaworthy for the trip by a crew of volunteers – a mix of “old salts” like Bill (average age 70) and young cadets from the California Maritime Academy. 

On D-Day, 6 June 1944, the O’Brien made eleven crossings of the English Channel carrying personnel and supplies to the Omaha and Utah beachheads. Of the more than 5,000 ships that formed that original D-Day armada, the O’Brien would be the only Ocean-class ship to return to Normandy 50 years later.

It took three years, thousands of volunteer hours, and donations of money and supplies from individuals and businesses to get the O’Brien in shape for the roundtripcruise from San Francisco where she was berthed to Normandy and back.

When I heard of Bill’s plan to sail on the Normandy, I had another idea.

The Royal Viking Line had an 18-day trans-Atlantic crossing on the Sun from Montreal to Paris, with two days in Cherbourg for the 50^th Anniversary of D-Day ceremonies. I persuaded Bill to sail with me on the Sun and – reluctantly – he gave in.

To prepare for the cruise, Bill went on a Jenny Craig diet and dropped 15 pounds.  I signed us up for five ballroom lessons at Arthur Murray.

Royal Viking Sun, 24 May–4 June, At sea

The majority of passengers on the Royal Viking Sun were World War II veterans, mostly Army veterans who had had stormed the Omaha and Utah beaches. (British troops landed on Gold and Sword beaches; Canadian troops landed on Juno.)

During the 14 days at sea, some  veterans shared their memories, some did not. I’ll never forget the veteran who showed me an old, wrinkled photo he kept in his wallet. He’s pointing his rifle at a dozen German soldiers with their hands raised. “I don’t look it,” the veteran said, “but I was scared to death.” One of our tablemates was with the heroic 2nd Ranger Battalion who scaled the cliffs at Pointe du Hoc. All he would say about that day was he always wondered why he was one of the lucky ones.

Maxene Andrews of the Andrews Sisters was on board. She signed copies of her book, Over Here, Over There, and sang with the ship’s orchestra.

One afternoon in the laundry room, there was an elegant-looking gentleman wearing a green t-shirt with “Val Verde” printed on it. “I live in Montecito,” I said, “and there’s a grand estate there named Val Verde.” “Yes, I know. I own it,” said Dr Warren Austin with a charming smile. Dr Austin was an Army doctor in the European theater and brought his 50-year old uniform to wear at the D-Day events. (See photo below.)

5 June, Sainte-Mère-Eglise and Re-enactment of Operation Overlord

It was on 5 June 1944, with a heavy heart and knowing he was sending many of his troops to their death, that General Dwight D. Eisenhower launched the D-Day invasion and famously said, “Let’s go.” (Some historians claim Eisenhower said, “Okay, let’s go.”) On 6 June at 0130, hundreds of paratroopers from the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions parachuted and landed in and around the town of Ste-Mère-Eglise. Their mission was to clear the ground between the sea and Ste-Mère-Eglise, so the troops landing on Utah Beach could advance rapidly inland. Private John Steele of the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment became a legend when his parachute got caught on the church spire in town. He was shot through the foot and hung there in pain for two hours pretending to be dead before the Germans noticed he was still alive and cut him down. One story has Pvt Steele escaping from the Germans in Ste-Mère-Eglise. Another story claims he was taken prisoner for two years, then escaped. (Red Buttons would portray Pvt Steele in the 1962 movie The Longest Day.) On 6 June at 0430, the American flag was raised in front of the Town Hall, making Ste-Mère-Eglise the first town in France to be liberated from the Nazi occupation.

Bill and I reboarded the bus for the drive to a nearby field for the re-enactment of Operation Overlord. There were 560 troops from the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, plus 38 veterans, in their 60s, 70s, and 80s, who had been in the 82nd and 101st in Overlord. After the re-enactment, one veteran said to Bill and me, “When I jumped 50 years ago, I was scared to death. This time, I was only half scared to death.”

6 June, D-Day Ceremonies

As a WWII veteran, Bill had priority booking for the ceremonies at Pointe du Hoc and the U.S. Cemetery. President Clinton would speak at the latter. However, the night before, we and others who had booked the excursions received notice that both were cancelled. Needless to say, there were many upset veterans and the captain was flooded with complaints and questions.

Bill and I watched the ceremonies on CNN in our cabin. It was anti-climatic as the purpose of taking the cruise was to attend the D-Day ceremonies. We received a letter of apology from the Sun’s Shore Excursion Manager. He said the excursions were cancelled due to certain French dignitaries who decided to attend the ceremonies at the last minute creating a need for additional security.

The atmosphere aboard ship was solemn. Veterans remembering the horrific events of that day. Veterans peeved that their presence at the ceremonies had been cancelled. The re-surfacing of terse feelings between the Americans and the French.

 

Fourteen Weeks, Twelve Cities, and Three Harry’s

Bill and I stayed on in Europe for 14 weeks and visited 12 cities: London, Paris, Warsaw, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Salzburg, Wengen (a small town in the Swiss Alps), Florence, and Venice. In Paris, we attended the American Ball at the Hotel Intercontinental and danced to Big Band music by the Glenn Miller Band.

Bill was a charter member of Harry’s International Barfly Association, having joined in 1954 in Paris during a round-the-world business trip as a steel importer in the world trade business. We reactivated the membership and imbibed expensive Martinis at three Harry’s – Paris, Florence, and Venice.

When we returned home, Bill admitted – albeit reluctantly – that crossing the Atlantic on the Royal Viking Sun was a heckuva lot more comfortable than sharing bunk quarters and chowing down with a bunch of shipmates.