June 6, 1944. D-Day. The coastline of France has transformed into hell on earth.
The sounds of machine gun fire, mortars, and the biggest guns you can imagine exploding on the shore next to you are deafening. Paralyzing. Almost as loud as the cries for help coming from your buddy, your best friend, who is dying right before your eyes.
The smell is of fear, death, metal and smoke from blazing guns.
The water through which you wade is littered with bodies, red with the blood of your brothers.
You wonder if you will make it through this day, or even survive the next seconds, let alone minutes or hours. You wish you could jump back in the boat or on the plane, turn around and go home.
Even though you're surrounded by thousands, you've never felt so alone.
Fast forward 66 years.
That same coastline, peaceful, tranquil, quiet, breathtakingly beautiful.
Families now lie on the beach soaking up the sun and enjoying a picnic.
Kids splash in the water.
The only sounds are those of laughter, gulls and peaceful waves washing ashore.
I wonder why anyone is allowed to splash in that water. It seems to me that this place should be a silent memorial to the men who died in that sand.
I feel frustrated with their seemingly short memory, angered by their disrespect and overwhelmed by the sacrifice of the greatest generation all at the same time. Tears fill my eyes.
I realize more than ever that life is short. I'm more thankful than ever that by God's grace I'm an American child and that my children are too.
I want to go back in time and kiss my grandfathers face and thank him (all of them really) for the sacrifice he made 66 years ago to keep this world free.
Then I realize something else. That if those men who fought there and died there were standing next to me they'd probably say, "Let them play. Let them laugh. The louder the better." After all, that's what they fought for. To liberate a continent from tyranny, evil. For freedom. The freedom to play and to laugh and to enjoy all that life has to offer.
They really were the Greatest Generation, you know?
After walking those beaches, and getting a feel for what they faced on that day, to what must seem just a few years ago to them, I am humbled and honored to have traced their footsteps.
It was an experience that I will never forget. A lifelong dream fulfilled. #1 on my bucket list now crossed off.
I only wish that my boys could have understood. But, I'll be sure that one day they do.
No...Freedom, isn't free.
This flag flies overlooking the shore at Utah Beach.
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