STORMIN’ NORMANDY : Today, the wind-swept beaches of northern France are peaceful, but on Junes 6, 1944, they exploded with the sounds of war. This summer, the 50th anniversary of D-Day, hordes of visitors will reinvade them.

The early morning hours were cold and gray, with rain pelting down and the wind whipping at 30 m.p.h. After an hour, I was soaked and needed some shelter. I found it inside a 50-year-old Nazi concrete bunker. From two-foot-wide turret slits, where artillery guns once overlooked the beaches 100 feet below, I could see no more than a mile into the fog blanketing the English Channel.

The weather was miserable, and so it was perfect.

On D-day, June 6, 1944, the weather was much like this when 5,000 Allied ships, 2,000 aircraft and 160,000 soldiers arrived on this northern coast of France. Some soldiers came by glider or parachute. But most of them first touched France on five beaches code-named Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword, and fought their way up the sands to begin the breakthrough inland that, within a year, would put the Allies in Berlin and end the Second World War in Europe.

My wife Michele, who is French, and her sister-in-law had already left my brother-in-law and me here in the rain, calling us maniacs--the word is similar in French--as they took shelter in the car. Without a word, my brother-in-law, Andre, and I kept moving. Battlefield touring is an acquired taste; it’s not for everyone. And neither is Cognac. But the D-day beaches are worth savoring; what happened on this strip of sand changed the map of Europe, and the rest of our century.

I never wore a soldier’s uniform--one of my cherished mementos, in fact, is my student deferment card from the Vietnam era--but war as history has always grabbed me. I’ve walked the Revolutionary War battle greens of Lexington and Bunker Hill, and through the woods at Valley Forge. I’ve hiked in the forest below Richmond, Va., where Grant’s army outfought Lee’s in our Civil War. I’ve seen eastern France where trench warfare raged for years in World War I. But no battlefield was as moving for me as the D-day beaches.

For those veterans who will visit on the 50th anniversary of D-day this summer, the invasion remains one of the seminal moments of their lives. Older Americans remember that before D-day Hitler’s army had ravaged Europe for five years, and many feared Germany might still win the war. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower called D-day “a great crusade,” but privately, the day before D-day, Eisenhower wrote a message in case things went wrong: “Our landings . . . have failed . . . The troops . . . did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.” In the end, D-day helped bring an end to Hitler.

Be advised that if you plan to visit, sharpen your elbows because it will probably be overcrowded all season. On June 6, President Clinton, with as many as 50,000 other visitors, should attend ceremonies at Omaha Beach. Retired Army Col. Bond Johnson of Long Beach has led several D-day tours, but not this year: “It will be a 5 o’clock freeway traffic jam.” So unless you already have reservations, consider going to Normandy by April. Or wait until fall.

Other than anniversary time, it isn’t hard to maneuver around the Normandy coast, even for an American who doesn’t speak French. Beyond the battlefields, be ready for one of the most beautiful rural areas of France. The sea air keeps the small cattle farms and apple orchards a lush green, flowers are everywhere and the architecture resembles England’s, with slate-gray tile or thatched roofs.

This being apple country, Calvados--apple brandy--and cider find their way onto the table. There is also cheese--Camembert and Pont-l’Eveque are regional specialties--and dessert: apple tarts, perhaps flambeed with Calvados.

As for the battlefields, be forewarned: Unlike Concord or Gettysburg, where you can see a field of history in one view, it’s impossible at the D-day beaches. The landing beach sites--from west to east, Utah, Omaha (invaded by Americans), Gold (by the British), Juno (Canadian) and Sword (British)--stretch 60 miles along the rugged coastline. There are package tours, but a self-guided visit is easily done with a rental car. Get a Michelin map, do some reading--try John Keegan’s “Six Armies in Normandy” and bring photocopies of maps in the book.

Before arriving last July, my biggest worry was how to find the exact spots where the invasions took place. But the French government makes it easy. Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword, are now the official names of these beaches, and are printed in English on road signs. Although the beaches are what D-day is best remembered for, the first Allied soldiers to touch French soil, a few minutes after midnight, were airborne units who came down a few miles inland on the western and eastern flanks of the invasion beaches.

Our first stop was at the western edge of the invasion, in the village of Ste. Mere-Eglise, near where the first Americans were supposed to land. The actual landings of the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, however, were as precise as a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey game. In the nighttime fog, aircraft veered off in all directions. Paratroopers jumped with 100 pounds of equipment; some drowned in only a few feet water on farmland flooded by the Nazis; others were dropped so close to the ground that their chutes couldn’t open.

About 30 Americans were unfortunate enough to land in the middle of Ste. Mere-Eglise. Aerial bombings had torched some buildings, and the fires illuminated the paratroopers. Many of them were shot dead in the air, and some bodies landed in trees and hung there along the city square for hours. But by 4:30 a.m., Ste. Mere-Eglise had become the first town in France liberated by Americans on D-day.

One paratrooper that morning was Pvt. John Steele, and more than anyone he made St. Mere-Eglise a big tourist stop. As he floated down, Steele was shot in the foot, then his parachute got stuck on the church steeple in the city’s square; unable to free himself, he played dead for several hours, as Germans and Americans battled below. Steele survived the war, and in Darryl Zanuck’s film “The Longest Day,” Red Buttons played Steele and helped cement his fame.

A life-sized paratrooper mannequin now hangs from that same steeple, its parachute billowing in the cold wind 60 feet up. Inside the 12th-Century church are stained glass windows showing paratroopers and the Virgin Mary.

Ste. Mere-Eglise is worth a visit, especially to the impressive Airborne Troops Museum. It houses a C-47 transport plane that the Army used to drop paratroopers, and a glider that landed on D-day morning. The glider is the main attraction and visitors can walk through it. It’s extremely flimsy and light to the touch: all wood, wires, a few metal struts and green fabric covering its wings. The longest line here was to see a display of paratrooper K-rations: slabs of dried meat, oatmeal and chocolate, plus two morphine syringes, one change of underwear, cigarettes, etc. But my eyes stopped suddenly on another display case, this one containing dozens of insignia patches of the Allied divisions that arrived on D-day and soon after. In front of me was the same round khaki, black-on-white armband worn by the U.S. 94th Infantry Division that I had memorized from childhood. That was the same patch worn by my uncle, Ted.

In June, 1944 my uncle turned 20. Nine days after D-day, he arrived in Normandy among the first waves of reinforcements, and he would fight under Gen. George Patton, who led troops as they swept across northern France and into Germany. Uncle Ted was wounded near Metz and, after getting out of a hospital, he was among the first to cross the Rhine River; he wound up the war in Czechoslovakia, 600 miles from Normandy. My uncle has never been back to Europe. His Purple Heart medal sits in a closet, he gets a modest monthly check for his war injury, and in my lifetime he has said perhaps 1,000 words to me about the war.

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From Ste. Mere-Eglise it’s about five miles to Utah Beach. Along the roads I spotted the bocages , a factor in wars dating back 1,100 years, when the Vikings invaded Normandy. Bocages are massive hedgerows, mounds of dirt and vines (some 10 feet thick) that fence in cattle and mark boundaries. Fifty years ago American tanks needed steel teeth to cut through these mounds.

It was still pouring when we got to Utah Beach. Utah Beach was flat and ordinary, the sand no more than 80 yards deep, with sea grass rising off the shallow shoreline, and behind that a gently rising plain. Of the five D-day landing beaches, Utah produced the fewest casualties, about 250. Part of that had to do with the gentle terrain I saw.

There are a few memorials here. A granite monument to the 1st Engineer Special Brigade, sits next to a path leading to the beach, where a vintage American Sherman tank, repainted recently in Army green to slow rust, sits parked. Utah Beach fades quickly because eight miles to the east is the most vivid, intact war site on the D-day coast, and it is not on one of the five famous landing beaches. It’s a promontory called Pointe du Hoc that juts out 100 feet above a wedge of beach. In aerial photos taken after D-day, Pointe du Hoc looks like a lunar landscape because the Allied bombing was so severe. Pointe du Hoc was considered a key target because Allied intelligence thought the Nazis had howitzer guns here with enough range to cover Omaha and Utah beaches. The U.S. 2nd Ranger Battalion arrived on a sliver of beach and faced a 100-foot cliff. The Germans fired machine guns and dropped grenades. The Rangers fired grappling hooks and began climbing, but it was slippery and hard to get a foothold. As naval bombardment hammered the cliff, chunks were torn out, and some Rangers could finally dig in and climb. In 30 minutes, the Rangers were on top. Later, they discovered the Nazis hadn’t yet installed the howitzers.

At the northern tip of Pointe du Hoc is an intact German bunker, with a round front like a massive turtle shell, the concrete turned brown from decades of rough weather. The French use the German word blockhaus to describe these massive fortifications, which still litter the Normandy coast. Why a German word? “Because the Germans put them here,” my wife said.

Barbed wire runs along the path next to the cliff, some sea flowers grow along the edge, and over the cliffI could see only a thin strip of beach, which is still accessible only by boat. It was easy to imagine the horrors of D-day here, of the Rangers coming in from the sea, bombs scarring the earth, and the Germans firing back.

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The next morning, the weather in Normandy was again perfect: gray, windy and wet.

Omaha Beach is four miles long and it was here the Germans came closest to repelling the Allies back into the sea.

The landscape here is more rugged and dramatic than at Utah Beach. Behind the beach, bluffs rise to 200 feet, and at both ends of Omaha Beach are 100-foot high cliffs. On D-day the Nazi defenses were heavy: The beach and bluffs were mined, there were trenches, concrete pillboxes and the most experienced German soldiers.

When the American 1st and 29th Infantry Divisions waded in, they had been on boats for several days; most were seasick. Allied bombing overshot the German positions along the shore, leaving most intact. American amphibious tanks were launched too far offshore, and in the five-foot waves they sank like stones. Americans were hanging on to only a few yards of beach, while offshore Gen. Omar Bradley thought of giving up on Omaha and sending reinforcements to Utah Beach.

Time has blurred which American officer said, “Two kinds of people are staying on this beach. The dead and those who are going to die. Now let’s get the hell out of here.” Then the Americans rallied: Soldiers used bazookas to knock out Nazi pillboxes, engineers demolished German bunkers, Navy destroyers kept firing at defense fortifications, and slowly the Americans moved beyond Omaha Beach. By day’s end the Americans were only one mile inland, and 2,500 soldiers had died. “Every man who set foot on Omaha Beach that day was a hero,” Bradley said.

From the sand you can see a plateau a half-mile away. Many of those who died here now rest there, at the American Military Cemetery and Memorial. Two other American military cemeteries in France are larger than this one, but Normandy is where presidents come, and where this year a record 2 million visitors are expected. The cemetery’s 173 acres were deeded to the United States by France in 1956.

Once past the visitor’s center, the cemetery suddenly opens up and your eyes move across the green field to rows of white marble crosses and Stars of David that stretch for 300 yards. There are 9,386 American soldiers buried here, from every state. The site is righteous and solemn, the grounds impeccable. Gravestones list each soldier’s name, rank, military I.D. number, state he came from and date of death. One group of middle-age visitors knelt before a cross; I wondered if their father was buried here. On the eastern edge of the grounds is a reflecting pool, two American flags and a bronze statue called “The Spirit of American Youth.”

Hedges block the view from three sides of the cemetery. But to the north is a clear look at Omaha Beach below, with walkways leading to the sand. It was so chilling here that my family and I didn’t have much to say.

At the cemetery, I thought of my uncle Ted, and later I called him. He wanted to know in detail what the cemetery looked like. When I finished, he said about his war, “You don’t want to do those things, but if you have to, you can. I did get to see Paris.” He quickly added: “There’s a golf tournament on, it’s in sudden death. I’ve got to go.”

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After the somberness of Omaha Beach, Arromanches was a pleasant change. This coastal town is part of Gold Beach, where the British landed. Arromanches has narrow streets and colorfully painted storefronts with British flags flying. But the most startling scenery is the huge lumps of concrete, some the size of a five-story buildings laid on end, that dot the sand dunes. Arromanches is dubbed “Port Winston,” as in Churchill, because the Prime Minister came up with the idea to float in an artificial harbor to speed the delivery of equipment and troops. Crepes, and cider with 5% alcohol, are a Normandy specialty, and the four of us enjoyed some at a restaurant near the water. One crepe, with mushrooms and cheese, cost $10 but was so light I could have eaten a half-dozen.

By now the rain was reduced to mist, and children were running around in their swimsuits, never mind that the July temperature was no more than 60 degrees. On D-day, the Allies’ dead, missing and wounded totaled about 10,000; German casualties ran as high as 9,000. Part of all that was so these children could enjoy summer on this beach.

One of our last stops was Ste. Aubin-sur-Mer, a coastal town along Juno Beach where the Canadians landed. Andre turned into a military surplus garage that claims to specialize in World War II gear. The owner was Monsieur Goulard, a grease-stained mechanic in fatigues and boots. Andre studied an American jeep, with an Army star painted on the hood, that looked 20 years old. Price: $10,000.

Goulard told us that he used to run a military surplus garage in Caen, 10 miles south, but since moving to the Normandy coast his business had doubled. Why? “This close to the beaches, you can still smell the war.”

GUIDEBOOK

The Reinvasion of Normandy

Getting there: The Normandy beaches are about three hours north of Paris by train or car. To drive from Paris, take the A13 highway to Caen, then the N13 into Normandy. From there, use a Michelin road map and watch for the plentiful road signs of D-day beaches. Trains leave from Gare St. Lazare station in Paris and stop in Bayeux, a town seven miles from Omaha Beach. In Bayeux you can pick up a rental car from Hertz (in the U.S., telephone 800-654-3131).

Getting around: From Paris, there is a one-day bus tour to the D-day beaches. Price: $159 per person; call Cityrama (tel. 212-683-8120) for reservations.

A host of companies offer D-day package tours, although many are sold out for the June 6th anniversary. Holt’s Battlefield Tours in England still has some space on its anniversary tour, and in August Holt’s offers four- and six-day escorted tours that leave from London. Price: $375-$575 per person, including lodging, meals (tel. 011-44-304-612248). Galaxy Tours (tel. 800-523-7287), offers six and nine-day trips in August. Price: $963-$1,320, including air fare from the East Coast, lodging and meals in London, Paris and Normandy. (Add $900 for round-trip air from L.A.) Grand Circle Travel (tel. 800-248-3737) from spring to fall offers 19-day, D-day tours that depart from Boston, with stops in England, France and Germany. Prices start at $2,895. British Airways also has various D-day packages departing from the U.S.

Where to stay: The best deals in Normandy are B&B; inns, which cost $40-$50 a night for two. For a B&B; list (“Chambres d’Hotel”) write the Normandy Regional Tourist Board, 14 rue Charles Corbeaux, Le Doyenne, 27000 Evreux, France (tel. 011-33-32-33-7900).

For more information: French Government Tourist Office, 9454 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 715, Beverly Hills 90212; tel. (900) 990-0040 (calls cost 50 per minute). Also, the British Tourist Authority (tel. 212-986-2200) will send a list of D-day tours from England.