Veterans Recall Sacrifice of Slain Comrades

In the hours before President Clinton arrived Monday on this serene hilltop in Normandy, there were, as always, just the old soldiers, the fallen comrades and the painful 50-year-old memories of the sands below on Omaha, the bloodiest D-day beach of all.

“I see 9,386 graves, and I can’t help but wonder why I’m standing here instead of out there,” Charles D. Brown, 70, said as he searched the rows of white crosses and Stars of David for the name of a fallen friend.

Sniffing back tears, he continued, “It’s just the way it’s supposed to be, I guess.”

And as the years have passed, the retired Iowa book salesman said, “some days, D-day seems like a far-off dream and, other days, well, it just seems like it happened yesterday.”

The 50th anniversary of the D-day landing was no time for glorifying the victory of Allied forces in World War II. Rather, for tens of thousands of U.S. veterans who gathered here, supported by wives and husbands, children and grandchildren, it was a day to remember the 37,000 who didn’t survive the liberation of France.

For Clinton, two members of his Cabinet and millions of others around the world, it was a day to say thanks to the quick and the dead.

“These men do not feel they should reap the glory just because they survived,” said Walter Cronkite, former CBS newsman and master of ceremonies here. But, he added, “to us, whose liberty and freedom you assured, you indeed are heroes, each and every one.”

Brown, who worked in a medic unit that treated the injured at Omaha Beach on D-day, observed: “It’s true that most of us don’t like to talk about it. But we’re talking here because we want to get the word out, that war is an awful thing.”

The day began, as it did 50 years ago, in a cold, blowing mist at Pointe-du-Hoc. It was there, a few miles from Omaha Beach, that several hundred U.S. Army Rangers scaled a 100-foot cliff, under heavy German fire, fewer than half making it uninjured to the summit.

“You can’t help but get a little nostalgic,” said Robert Battice, 72, from Ocala, Fla., one of those who made it to the top. “But I’m not near as terrified today as I was then.”

Battice was shot in the head three weeks after his arrival in France. He was paralyzed for six months but recovered fully. On Monday, he and his wife, Wilma, who have four children, 15 grandchildren and 13 great-grandchildren, went to the American Cemetery to find the graves of two young men Battice knew who didn’t come home.

“D-day was an experience you wouldn’t trade for a million dollars,” Battice said. “But you wouldn’t want to do it again either.”

All across the tiny villages of Normandy, where the American and other Allied forces are still hailed as “liberators,” the French citizenry has been turning out in force to thank the visiting veterans. Some can manage only “thank you” in English, but it is enough.

At a store where Brown stopped, a salesclerk summoned the owner from the back of the shop to meet the American veteran. “Thank you for coming to my shop,” the smiling proprietor said. “And thank you for coming 50 years ago.”

“I tell you, it really got to me,” Brown said. “I couldn’t even speak. My words were just right up here,” he said, touching his Adam’s apple.

Many of the veterans on hand for the commemorations Monday weren’t comfortable with Clinton’s avoidance of the draft during the Vietnam War. At Clinton’s first stop, Pointe-du-Hoc, the President praised the Rangers, speaking of “this sacred soil,” and he took time to shake each of the veterans’ hands.

“Some of our guys said he shouldn’t have been here,” Battice said. “But I didn’t see anybody refuse to shake his hand.”

Retired U.S. Air Force Col. Raynor Roberts, whose one-seat fighter ran mission after mission along the coast on D-day, said the President seemed to be trying to overcome his past. “But I’ve got to admit I’m a little bit hung up on the whole thing,” Roberts said. “How can he come here and eulogize over my buddies’ crosses?”

Others, however, seemed to agree with Joseph Dawson, a highly decorated D-day veteran, who introduced Clinton at the American Cemetery by saying, “Only the one who holds the highest office in our land can properly express the pride and gratitude to the men of D-day.”

And, after the President’s speech, many stood to applaud.

The day, though, was reserved for the veterans. They came in wheelchairs and walkers, with canes and on the arms of loved ones.

The veterans patiently posed for pictures with young U.S. soldiers, starry-eyed over the old men’s past exploits. And a few, like the old paratroopers who staged a D-day commemorative jump the day before, tried to relive those exploits.

Herman Stein, a wiry 73-year-old from New York City, and another Ranger comrade climbed the 100-foot cliff at Pointe-du-Hoc. Why did he do it? “He does it every year,” his wife said.

“You just stay in shape and you can do it. That’s all,” said Stein, a retired sheet-metal worker who wears a hearing aid. The D-day climb took him three minutes; this time, 50 years later, it took seven minutes.

At the American Cemetery, though, the memories were more somber. Every year, 2 million people visit the cemetery. Many are escorted to graves of their ancestors and their friends.

On Monday, before the commemoration ceremony, Brown went looking for 1st Lt. Elmer C. Dudolski, an old friend from Iowa. He found Dudolski in Row 23, Grave No. 26. Brown paused in silent prayer and then took a photograph.

“I’ll be taking it back to his family,” Brown said.