Normandy.

Bayeux was definitely a break in a sense. We stayed and an unconventional site: a Monastery. I was expecting to eat some soup that would give me diarrheas until Easters, eat some toast in my room and discuss how much I love “poopies,” light tan and other favorite things, and maybe go, go away and read some books. I didn’t but nonetheless enjoyed my stay and was impressed and encouraged by the dedication that those Canons (they were not called monks there), had in their faith.

The biggest part of Bayeux was when we traveled an hour or so outside of the town to Normandy to learn about D Day. This was a sobering event to say the least. I am very happy that I got to go on such a tour and learn from a very knowledgeable tour guide, but it real, it was unavoidable, it was heartbreaking. We watched “Saving Private Ryan” the night before in order to gain more of a visual of what it looked like back in {1944}. I have seen the film before, but not with the knowledge that I was going to visit many of these sites the next day. It is difficult to describe how real it feels when you are standing, staring through the lookout hole from the German bunker at the water that was once stained deep red from the numerous casualties of that dreadful day. It was a contrasting sight. The beach was beautiful, bright with colors of green, blue and sandy brown. The water was calm, barely pushing waves out to the shore. Yet all I could see were the visions of men dying right where I was standing. Being massacred, blown up, shot. As I looked at all my friends walking along the beach as well, I thought about what it would be like if we were in the war and how that this could be the last time I could see them alive, or even the last time I would be alive. Knowing that the second I stepped of that boat, this would probably be it.

I was really taken back upon arrival to the cemetery. It started to pour when we arrived and normally I hate being in the rain without coverage (my coat is not actually waterproof and I had forgotten my umbrella), but the rain felt like such a miniscule inconvenience in comparison to what these men endured.

It is difficult to come to terms with the glorification of war. On one hand, these men are heroes; they laid down their lives for so many people, for the safety and prevention of full Nazi takeover. But at the same time, did they not kill just as many men? I don’t mean to take away from the honor and respect these men deserve, I am just thinking out loud as I am trying to accept this backwards thinking. I think my heart just aches that this is how our fallen world deals with conflict. Dehumanizing our ideas of “them” and protecting “us” with a bullet that is shot without a second thought. I know I can’t put myself in their shoes and can’t even begin to imagine what it is like to fight for my country, but it is a difficult concept to grasp and I still can’t quite wrap my head around it.

Normandy was enlightening to say the least.

Swastika carved into the wall of the German Soldier bunker  

View from the German Soldier bunker

Bunker from the outside

All those crater-type holes are where bombs went off.

Omaha.

If a family member would like to remember their loved one, they call the cemetery and have them put a rose in front of their cross. The cemetery also then goes and gets sand from Omaha beach and rubs it on the letters to make them more visible. It had just started to rain so the sand was being washed away.