This is the longer version of my story for The Times, which appears here: D-Day (and if you’re after a quick reference guide, then this one I wrote for the Independent is helpful: Seven best sites to learn about D-Day )
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Visit the D-Day Beaches
There’s a cool breeze blowing over Omaha Beach as I stand looking down on it from the American cemetery on the plateau above. Beyond the lush green hillside that leads down to the beach, a flotilla of sand-yachts zip across the wide golden sand. There’s a more sombre atmosphere up here, though. In the cemetery behind me lie the graves of more than 9,000 soldiers, many of whom died there on the beach when they landed in the early hours of June 6 1944: D-Day. That morning, 132,000 troops led by Britain, Canada and the USA landed on five Normandy beaches launching Operation Overlord, the mission that would play a significant part in bringing World War II to an end.
I’m here on the Normandy coast to learn what happened on that fateful day and in the weeks afterwards, exploring the many cemeteries and museums that each tell part of the story of this incredible operation. There is much to learn, digest and accept, not least the 425,000 deaths and injuries suffered by soldiers of numerous nationalities, cultures and creeds who had come from all corners of the world to liberate Europe.
The American Cemetery shows the scale of those losses; the lines of small white crosses, and occasional Stars of David run in every direction across the 170-acre site. The sorrow persists at the cemeteries at Bayeux and Ranville, but my feelings change to awe when I learn just how extraordinary a feat D-Day was.
The road to the Pegasus Bridge memorial museum takes me through sleepy hamlets and past farmers’ fields that stretch into the vast, flat horizon. The museum is just a short drive from Ouistreham ferry port, which I’ve passed through countless times, glancing the famous Pegasus Bridge each trip. The museum tells me the story behind the grey bascule bridge – named after the insignia on the uniform of the British soldiers that took part in the amazing Operation Deadstick. To secure the route east from Sword Beach, British regiments needed to capture two bridges held by the Germans: the Ranville bridge over the River Orne, and Pegasus Bridge over the Caen canal. In the hours before dawn on June 6 1944, 180 men landed silently in the Normandy countryside in six Airspeed Horsa Gliders and, to the German soldiers’ astonishment (most were sleeping) they captured the bridges and held them until further support arrived. The museum tells how the mission played out, in fascinating detail, with my tour guide showing each stage on a diorama of the landscape.
However, it isn’t until I go outside to see a replica of the glider that I understand just how daring this mission was. To be as light as possible, the Horsa gliders were built from plywood and canvas; each carried 30 soldiers and equipment including a jeep, and they crossed the Channel in silence and darkness, their pilots navigating with simply a stopwatch and a compass. So light and fragile were these aircraft, they were nicknamed “flying coffins.” The original Pegasus Bridge has pride of place in the museum grounds; holes from bullets fired that very morning are still visible
To further understand the incredible mission that took place in the days after the landings, I head back along the coast to Arromanches-les-Bains. Yellow-flowering gorse bushes border the road, beyond them miles of wilderness or farmland, a stark comparison with the chic coast east of the River Orne with its elegant Belle Epoque Villas and resorts. There’s more action in Arromanches though: this buzzing seaside town overlooking Gold Beach is at the heart of the D-Day sites and embodies the air of camaraderie that endures between the locals and the Allies – welcome signs aimed at veterans hang in shop and café windows. I follow a snake of people walking up the hill to the Arromanches 360°, a cinema experience which shows a bombastic, somewhat Hollywood-esque version film shown across nine cinema screens. It is worth making the steep climb to the film centre, however, for the view of what remains of the Mulberry Harbour. In the entrance hall of the cinema building, a large black and white photo of the harbour in June 1944 allows for a fascinating comparison.
The lack of harbour on this stretch of coastline should have prevented the delivery of cargo and equipment to come after the landings, and this was part of the reason the Germans were so taken by surprise. The solution was to build the blocks of two floating Mulberry harbours in England and assemble them “sur place” in June 1944. The ingenious plan – kept completely secret even from those building it – allowed for 400,000 soldiers, 500,000 vehicles and 4 million tons of equipment to be brought ashore at Arromanches alone
On the beach, the low tide allows me to see what remains of Port Winston: huge blocks that once supported the piers that still lie on the sand, their surfaces covered in barnacles and seaweed. Nearby, children paddle in the puddles on the sand, disinterested in the sinister-looking blocks in the sea.
In the subsequent days, I drive to other sites on the coast, learning about the American angle at Utah Beach and exploring medieval Bayeux, tapestry and all. I eat moules-frites in the towns’ friendly bistros and, when driving along the breezy coast, I pass smart villas and houses, some of which I’d seen in the museums in black and white photos showing them blown-out shells. Seeing them now, it’s as if nothing happened.
It is my visit to the Juno Beach Centre that most strikes a chord. While so much of D-Day’s history is told from a British or American standpoint, this museum tells the Canadian forces’ story. The centre is staffed by young Canadians on six-month contracts, with the aim that they return from their placement with a deeper understanding of Canada’s role in World War II, able to continue the memory of those who perished. Among the exhibits are moving accounts of the individuals involved in D-Day, with photos and letters that uphold their memory. In the same space, a scrolling list shows the names of the 45,000 Canadians who lost their lives in World War II; it takes 13.5 hours to go through them all from A to Z.
As if this isn’t sobering enough, the visit concludes with a film titled They Walk With Us, which tells the story of D-Day from a Canadian infantry soldier’s perspective. The superb film makes for a harrowing 15 minutes. With my heart heavy with emotion, I spill out of the museum into the sunshine and follow the path that leads directly onto the beach. As my mind swims with the images and sounds of D-Day and the vivid depictions from the film, I sit down on the soft golden sand, backed by grassy dunes and gaze upon a typical holiday beach scene. A family with young children plays in the sand with buckets and spades, enjoying a freedom for which so many paid the ultimate price.
For more beaches in Normandy, read this feature about the Cotentin Peninsula.
For more on Bayeux, which makes a great base for exploring this area, there’s this feature.