Later in the Day - June 6th, 1944

(From Tracks Across Europe - Dal Estes)

It must be stated here that even though there was great confusion during the landing and also all over Omaha Beach, man of our objectives were met.  However,  it was expected that we would be dug in, camouflaged and ready to fire on enemy aircraft or troops over the beach by noon that day - but we were delayed.  It was almost 7:30pm that evening before our two squads were ready.

Later that afternoon, near the town of St. Laurent Sur Mer we moved into an apple orchard surrounded by a hedge row.  The house was set on the main street and had its usual arched entrance.  It was pretty clear that the area had been used as a training place for the Germans as there was a large table with replicas of the sand beaches shown, plus various buildings and churches - apparently used to depict their expected defense of this area against us.

The hedgerow presented both a plus and a minus.  In the dark of a moonlight night you were not exactly sure if the sudden appearance of a head was a friendly soldier relieving himself, an enemy trooper or a cow or horse that decided to nibble on some of the hedges.  Several friendly troops were accidentally shot in the first few days in these orchard hedgerows.  Also, several French farmers lost livestock this way.

Not wanting to blow up our half tracks, the writer grabbed a French farmer.  (we did not know if we could trust them or not) and with a bayonet, demanded to know if the field where we were to stay that first night was mined.  We learned a quick lesson from the farmer, not pointed out to us in training. The Frenchman quietly told us whenever there were cows, sheep or horses in a field - it was NOT mined! He happily slipped into his house and brought us out a bottle of Cognac and a bottle of Calvados - he drank first.  We still didn't know if we could trust them.

(Dal Estes, Tracks Across Europe)

Present Day:
On Dad's three return trips, he searched high and low for that apple orchard with the arched entrance. He thought he found it in 2004, but then decided after looking at it for a bit of time, that it wasn't quite right.  Prior to leaving the States I was bound and determined we were going to find it this time, and had convinced myself that there was no way anyone would have changed it in the past 70 years.  We made several circuitous routes up the hills around the city looking for it. (Some planned and some, because we made a wrong turn or were detoured, but enough about THAT comedy of errors.) Like Dad, I too left without seeing it.  My sister is convinced that it no longer exists and despite my desired fairytale ending, indeed, someone destroyed the entrance leaving only Dad's description behind.

As for the hedge rows in Normandy that were so prevalent in stories about the DDay landings, there were more than the eye could see.  They dotted the landscape and ran the gamut from short and manicured, to tall and wildly out of control.  Some stood on their own as an aesthetic break in front of a Norman home and others looked plopped in the middle of a field for no apparent reason. Those were usually older ones whose purpose in times past was to signify property lines. The ones that sat upon brick or stone walls were used as an old (very old),  functional livestock gate. The ones that stood on their own and whose thickness made of criss-crossed branches made it impossible to see through, were the ones that were problematic for soldiers 70 years ago. Although you can't see through to the other side It would be very easy to slide a rifle through one of the small openings and take aim.  

Last evening we were guests at an event at a newly constructed community building in a small French village.   The dinner was to honor 50 visitors from Bedford, Virginia - the town with the highest per capita loss on DDay than any other town in the United States.  In addition to the table wine poured from carafes on the long white tables, men from the town were walking around what appeared to be Calvados.   As the man approached our table, our wonderful hostess, Martine Lebrec got a stern look on her face, put her hand over her head, waved her arm back and forth and said emphatically "no, no, no"!   Although I have no idea what she said, it was something in French that made it clear that he was to pour NONE for her guests.  My sister looked and her and asked her in French what the issue was.  It turns out there is REAL Calvados from Normandy and then there is something between wine and calvados that is a bit cheaper, and from Martine's description, tastes horrible and gives you bad headaches.  The way she described it,  it was like the  French equivilent of a strong Boone's Farm.  (The cheap wine we used to drink as kids).

On the way home last night, I chuckled thinking about how much has changed in the past 70 decades.  I thought about Dad not trusting that farmer offering a drink,  to me staying with a French family who  I have only heard of for years, having meal after meal and by the end, laughing like old friends.  That French farmer protected Dad and his men from the mines in the field, Martine protected us from bad Calvados.  Life is funny, isn't it.  

The Landing at Omaha - Part 3

(From: Tracks Across Europe - Dal Estes) (Part 3)

It was about 300 yards from the water to the cliff bottom.  We made the first strand of protective shale, dismounted there and looked for cover.  We made it to the next ridge of shale rock on the beach and took cover behind it to see how or where we would proceed.  Several of us took cover under a disabled tank to keep from being hit by mortar fire.  About the time we got under the tank, the men in it got it re-started and we were forced to located other cover.

About our personal feelings, yes we were scared - but so much was going on that survival and staying together was our utmost thought.  That, and pushing on to beat the Germans.

It much be understood that there were no atheists on the beach that day.  We all looked to a God for help.  When you are under fire, it is surprising how large the steel helmet is.  Believe it or not, it feels as big as a steel roof over your head, especially when they are dropping mortars down on you.

At noon we were still pinned down on the beach and shells of all types continued to hit our area.  Men continued to land behind us but could find no place to go.  Many took the same route we had.  By this time the smoke was heavy.  Some semblance of order was taking place by this time and the exit allowing us to get the bluff and up was finally opened between 12:30 and 1pm.

We were delayed at the crest of the exit, and we turned around and viewed the landing beaches with awe, as it really was a mess - bombed out buildings, vehicles burning, barges sunk at the shore and bodies lying sprawled in the sand. During the brief delay, Shelton and I decided to look inside the largest concrete bunker overlooking Omaha Beach at the St. Laurent exit.  It was equipped with large caliber guns.  Inside were a couple of dead German soldiers.  On the floor was a large Nazi flag, which I picked up.  

(Dal Estes - Tracks Across Europe)

Background:
That bunker is now a historical landmark in St. Laurent sur Mer, France, about a quarter of a mile from Musee Memorial d' Omaha Beach. The flag he picked up off that floor, has been displayed in the Museum since 1994. Dad retuned it on his first trip back to France for the 50th Anniversary celebration. As he was preparing for that trip, my sister asked him why he didn't just keep it. Dad responded, "I've had it for 50 years - its time it goes back to where it came from...Omaha Beach."

I was able to see the bunker yesterday for the first time. Just from a pure historical perspective it was really cool. It was much smaller than I envisioned.  The top has a huge chunk missing where our bombers missed the mark on the first few shots.  When you get inside however, it's pretty clear we hit it perfectly on subsequent tries.  There is a huge gaping hole in the metal that protected the gunner as he was firing.  He was one of the dead soldiers Dad referred to above. 

On our visit to the bunker in Normandy yesterday, there was a Swiss tour guide leading a group of people who happened to be visiting from Kentucky.  They came to Omaha Beach with their Dad, a DDay Veteran. I smiled to myself when I heard the guide explain the origin and history of the bunker.  I looked over and realized that my sister was listening and smiling too.   We looked at each other and laughed.  We could have recited the story of that bunker in our sleep.  We had heard it for years. Hearing the guide give it was fun, and somehow made it even more real. However, he didn't have the benefit of growing up with one of the main characters of the story, so we had to restrain ourself from adding bits and pieces to his version of events.  For example, Dad told us that when he went in - the blast from the bomb was so powerful that it knocked the door of the hinges and he had to step over it to get inside.  Today there is no door on that bunker.  

(My family and me at the Bunker today for a remembrance ceremony:

Once inside, I stood there for a bit and just took it all in. I looked at the floor trying to imagine where Dad first saw that flag. The flag has certainly been the topic of much discussion and desire (from museums)  over the years, but lesser known is that Dad also picked up film canisters and some photos.  Years after the war he had the film developed.  Not surprising, since he took it from a German bunker, the photos were of German officers, German women and one amazing one of Field Marshal Rommel directing the troops.  We have the originals at home but several copies can be seen at Musee Memorial d' Omaha Beach.  I have always thought it would be neat to scan the photos, create a website and use the power of the internet to try and put some names and stories with the men and women in the photos.  Time is an enemy in a project like that, as the further removed you become from the main subject, the harder it is to fill in the blanks.

 I have no idea what possessed my Dad to pick up that flag, shove it the back of his jacket and fight with it the next few weeks.  Same with the film.  He had untold weight on the pack on his back, but stopped, picked them up and continued to fight through the apple orchards and hedgerows of France.  "History never looks like history when you are living through it", said John Gardner.  I'd like to think my Dad knew this was a historic day and that these artifacts, and the stories of how they were acquired, would be worth discussing someday, if for no other reason than to ensure that history didn't repeat itself.

Flag Display at Musee DDay Memorial Omaha Beach

 Musee DDay Memorial Omaha Beach website:

http://www.musee-memorial-omaha.com/index.php

Next Blog Up : The Night Of DDay

Waiting to Go - Times 2

The Following Is an Excerpt From The National WWII Museum/Education Center

Waiting To Go:

"The waiting for history to be made was the most difficult.  I spent much time in prayer.  Being cooped up made it worse.  Like everyone else, I was seasick and the stench of vomit permeated our craft." --Pvt. Clair Galdonik, 359th Infantry Regiment, US 90th Division

D-Day was scheduled for June 5, 1944.  But on the eve of the invasion, as the air and sea armada began to assemble, a storm arose in the English Channel.  It threatened the success of the operation.

At 6:00am on June 4, Eisenhower decided to postpone the invasion for at least one day, hoping for better weather on June 6.

For the next 24 hours the men of the Allied invasion force remained sealed aboard their ships. Cramped and tense, they waited.  At their bases in England, the pilots and airborne troops also marked time. Everything depended on the weather and the decision of the man in charge of Overload, General Eisenhower.

On the Continent the Germans were confident that the storm in the Channel would postpone any planned Allied invasion.  Rommel took the opportunity to return to his home in Germany to visit his family.

In the early hours of June 5, Eisenhower pondered the weather reports and the conflicting advice of his inner circle of advisers.  

(National WWII Museum/Education Center)

As a history buff, I have always loved hearing General Eisenhower's speech to the troops on the eve of DDay.  If you have never heard it, and are so inclined....check out the link below. When I listen to it I try to imagine what that message, delivered at that hour to troops waiting to cross the English channel.  I want to believe it was received with great pride and provided even a modicum more of motivation, (as if they needed it).   Our Dad never mentioned hearing or seeing Eisenhower's words as he waited, sealed on the ship with his men.  They spent a lot of time resting in, on top of and under the jeeps and halftracks.  Because Dad was a student of history and was so detailed with everything else related to that day, the general consensus in my family is that he never actually heard or saw Eisenhower's message.  Because we never thought to ask, we will never know for sure.

Present Day: June 3, 2014
Although we enjoyed our few days in Paris, I too, feel like I was waiting to get to Normandy, albeit in a very different, simple and easy manner.  Unlike the troops must have felt, I have been looking forward to this experience for decades; a chance to experience Omaha Beach, a place that uniquely defined our Dad and collectively defined our world.  I remember growing up and hearing his stories. At a younger age I didn't understand the significance.  During puberty, I'm sure I didn't care.  Later, in my 20's or so, I "got it" and understood what it all meant. Since then, I have really wanted to be here, in Normandy, on June 6th.

As we made the drive west from Paris today, I couldn't help but think about how similar, but very different the terrain must have looked back then.  Obviously there was no interstate highway between Paris and Normandy, no road signs, no petrol stations.  Just small towns and fields of wheat and hay, which still survive today. The rolling landscape is green and lush.  A look out into the distance provided views of small French villages with charming remnants of old buildings, contrasted with new construction. Time has clearly moved on.   If there was any question of why we are here, flashing road signs warned us multiple times that roads in Normandy (or Normandie, as it's written in French) would be shut down on D-Day.

Our drive today brought us to Honfleur, Normandy. Honfleur sits in the Calvados region and is known for its cidre and the picturesque port, which was the subject of many famous French painters.  It turns out that  Honfleur has s a bit of DDay history too.  On June 6, 1944, all of the boats in the beautiful Honfleur harbor were destroyed by the Germans.  This boat below, the "Sainte Bernadette" is the only one that survived, although extensive rebuilding had to be done.

Tomorrow, June 4th, we leave for Omaha Beach.  Ironically just like 70 years ago, the forecast calls for rain and wind. The weather notwithstanding, I know we will receive a warm welcome when we arrive. For the past 20 years I have heard about the family Lebrec.  Tomorrow, I get to meet them.

Daniel and Martine Lebrec hosted Dad, and my brother Dave the first time in 1994, for the 50th anniversary of D-Day. Since then, they have invited our family as their guests for the 59th and 60th anniversaries and a few times in between.  The Lebrecs have a long history in Normandy, beginning in 1925.  Their property sits right ON Omaha beach, halfway between St. Laurent sur Mer and Vierville sur Mer, France.   Their family home was destroyed by the Germans in 1944.  In 1961 they rebuilt three identical villas on the family plot.  As it's been described to me, their home is a large, with three stories of living space and has a picture window overlooking the English channel, where in previous celebrations my Dad watched the ships gather for the celebrations.  I can only imagine how different THAT perspective was for him.

Dad made several great friends on those return trips to Normandy.  Friendships that have extended to our whole family.  The Lebrec's, Musee D'Day Omaha Owners - Daniel and Catherine Chartier and the Mayor of St. Laurent sur Mer.  Dad had a deep respect and gratitude towards all of them.  The feeling was clearly mutual.  

On the night before Dad's visitation, late December of 2005, there was a knock on my Mom's front door.  As you would expect, our whole family was together, having a cocktail and no doubt laughing through our tears - as Dad would have wanted.  My sister answered the door and yelled for Mom. Standing there was a local florist delivery man who knew our family well.  He was holding a white metal stand from which hung the BIGGEST floral wreath I have ever seen in my entire life.  Seriously, it had the circumference of a large tire.  "Betty", he said, "I know it is unusual bringing this to the house, but the person who ordered it insisted I deliver it here before taking it to the church.  He said it was customary in their culture."  I remember my Mom responding inquisitively, "their culture??".  Just then I looked and saw the gold letters adhered to the red ribbon on the front of the wreath.   They were in French.  Thankfully I have two siblings who are fluent and although I don't remember which one translated it, I will never forget what they said.  The card read - "To Our Liberator and Dear Friend, We Will Never Forget".  It was from Daniel and Martin Lebrec, Daniel and Catherine Chartier and the people of St. Laurent sur Mer France.  I can't wait to thank them in person.

Postscript:
That ribbon and card are now on exhibit at the Livingston County War Museum.  The Museum is located in Pontiac, Illinois and is "A living hands on museum founded to recognize the sacrifice and service of all US Military Veterans from Livingston County and Central Illinois.  It was founded by my Dad, Dal Estes and Neil Bach, another WWII Vet.
More information on the Livingston County War Museum can be found at:
www.livingstoncountywarmuseum.com


General Eisenhower's Speech To The Troops:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3J_FoO--Z-c

NEXT UP: Dal Estes's Memories and Manuscript of the D-Day Landing in Three Parts.  Tomorrow, D-Day Part 1.