By Mark W. Fowler, J.D., M.D

“At the core, the American citizen soldiers knew the difference between right and wrong, and they didn’t want to live in a world in which wrong prevailed. So, they fought, and won, and we, all of us, living and yet to be born, must be forever profoundly grateful.” —author Stephen Ambrose

June 6, 2020, will mark the 76th anniversary of the invasion of Normandy. On that day, over 160,000 allied troops participated in the largest amphibious operation ever undertaken before or since. In the course of one day there were 10,000 casualties (wounded) and over 4,400 deaths. Today less than 4% of men who stormed the beaches at Normandy are still alive. On the anniversary of this event it is worth remembering what they died for and how and why they died.

The larger question is whether we are living up to the promise of the Republic for which they died.

The 20th century was scarred by the most prolific and evil murderers in history. In the period of the Second World War, Hitler, joined by Mussolini, Stalin, and Hirohito, either slaughtered millions of their own citizens or participated in actions that led to the death of citizens of other countries whose territories they invaded. It is critical to remember that these deaths were directly attributable to governments in many cases killing their own.

It is fashionable these days — particularly on the left — to disparage the United States as a place of rampant racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, greed, rapine capitalism, and antipathy for the environment. These and any number of other vices that the Left has conjured up, magnified, and of which it disapproves are routinely taught to impressionable college students as the real history of the United States. The New York Times has initiated a series called the “1619 Project” that pretends to detail the true history of the United States as founded on slavery.

None of this is true insofar as it purports to relate the entirety of the complicated history of the United States.

However fashionable it may be on the cocktail circuit on the East Coast, in the halls of Congress, and in Hollywood to look with disdain on the “great unwashed of the heartland,” the fact remains that a very great majority of Americans from the heartland are kind, decent people who lament the negative aspects of our history. America has its faults, as does every country on the planet at every time in history. There are no perfect men, nor any perfect countries. We live in a fallen world, and yet, there are moments of moral clarity, the brilliance of which should shine forever in the history of mankind, that invite our solemn reflection. These are acts (individually and corporately) of courage, selflessness, and determination in the service of justice that are awe-inspiring.

This is the story of one of those moments. A reflection of the best that man has to offer. It is the story of those among us who left farms, homes, jobs, wives, children, and families to fight the Axis powers. Many of these were volunteers. As their fathers had done in World War I, these men went to fight not for territory or for treasure or national pride. They fought for one reason only — to restore the liberty of the victims of tyranny. They wanted only to win the war and go back home to their lives. They fought because it was right. In doing so, they left behind an inimitable example of valor and selflessness. It can be said of them that they truly lived above themselves. They ascended the heights of human morality and bravery and earned for themselves immortality — along with freedom for those they fought to liberate.

To focus on Normandy is not to discount the bravery, courage, and sacrifice of others who fought before or after them in North Africa, Sicily, Italy, and elsewhere in the European theater, or the sailors and marines who fought valiantly in the Pacific against the Japanese. Indeed, every theater saw a fair share of men and women of all races who served bravely and selflessly. Moreover, to focus on the infantry is not to discount the significant contribution of men who served in other ways, nor is it to overlook men and women who served in support roles. Their work was both heroic and invaluable in the Allied effort.

The invasion of Western Europe marked a turning point in the war. It was the fulfillment of a promise made to Joseph Stalin to open a second front against the beleaguered and betrayed Russians who had been attacked by the Germans notwithstanding the infamous non-aggression pact — German assurances long having been proven worthless.

From the beginning, the invasion was plagued by difficulty. If they had not had bad luck, they would have had no luck at all, as neither the weather nor the gods of war were favorable that day. Originally scheduled for the 5th, the weather was unacceptable that day, and the invasion was postponed 24 hours until the skies cleared. Even then, the seas were rough, winds were brisk, and clouds obscured both the inland areas where the paratroopers were to land and the coast. But if neither weather nor fortune favored them, their steel resolve and sheer numbers did.

Pathfinders and paratroopers were to invade first. Pathfinders were to light the landing zones and paratroopers were to secure inland roadways to prevent effective German reinforcement. Clouds, the wind, and effective anti-aircraft fire pushed the paratroopers planes off course. Consequently, paratroopers were scattered across rural Normandy. Men landed alone or in twos or threes surrounded by the enemy and had to find their objective and each other in the dark. In many cases it was hours or even days before units were effectively reassembled.

The Germans had flooded the estuary of the Dives river near the invasion site. Paratroopers laden with gear that doubled their weight floated down into the floodwater never to be seen again. No one will ever know how many drowned within yards of dry land. Offshore, Duplex drive tanks with waterproof skirts designed to swim from cross-channel transports to the beach foundered in the choppy seas, taking their crews with them in many cases. Twenty-nine of 62 tanks dedicated to the first wave were lost this way. Commanders elected to hold the remainder of the tanks until they could be offloaded directly on the beach. The first wave of troops stormed the beach without tank cover.

The night before the invasion, English cooks on troop transports had served the infantrymen hearty meals of steak, eggs, bacon, and fruit to give them a proper send-off. Inasmuch as the landing craft were not very seaworthy, the rolling waves made nearly all men seasick. The heavy meals did not help. Vomit poured over into sea-sick bags, helmets, fire buckets, and finally onto the floor. Before they had reached the beaches, they were debilitated by seasickness.

Nevertheless, they pressed on. They were tasked with offloading from the landing craft, crossing several hundred yards of beach protected by mines, concertina wire, and antitank obstacles. Then they were to ascend the hill overlooking the beach and capture the guns and artillery manned by the Germans. Every second they were on the beach, they were exposed to murderous machine gun and artillery fire.

The waves were driven by the winds, and the winds themselves played havoc with the invaders. Having scattered the paratroopers, the wind also fanned the flames of houses set aflame from anti-aircraft fire. An unknown number of paratroopers were last seen falling into burning houses, their demise marked by the salute of ammunition cooking off.

“We will start the war from here.” —Gen. Theodore Roosevelt Jr. on Utah Beach

At Utah Beach, the wind and an errant guide boat put Gen. Theodore Roosevelt Jr. (son of President Theodore Roosevelt) and the first wave of the 4th Infantry Division 2,000 yards away from the intended landing site. Roosevelt, who volunteered to land with the first wave (he insisted that he should go and was denied twice before submitting his request in writing), went ashore as the only general on the beach. Learning he was over a mile from his intended landing site, he studied his maps, and stoically said, “We will start the war from here.” Moving back and forth across the beach, rallying the troops, he led them to and past the seawall. For his gallantry, he was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. At 56, he was the oldest man on the beach.

Clouds obscured the beach from the bombers of the Army Air Corps. Fear of friendly fire hitting the troopships caused the pilots to delay releasing the bombs so that they landed as much as a mile inland. This deprived those wading ashore of the benefits of softened defense, but just as importantly, it deprived them of bomb craters in which to take cover as they advanced.

Thus, without tanks, without an effective pre-invasion bombing of the beach, wretched from seasickness, and out of position, they pressed on into the maw of death from German machine gun, artillery, small arms fire, mines, and concertina wire. There were no safe places on the beach. To attempt to hide behind beach obstacles prepared to prevent the landing craft from discharging the men too closely was to invite machine gun and artillery fire. To stay on the beach was to die. There was no going back, only forward. Their best chance — their only chance — of survival was to press on. And so they did.

Pressing on meant denying the primal instinct to pause to help their fallen comrades with whom they had trained and formed friendships. Despite the mayhem, the blood, and the screams for help, they pressed on. To stop was to die. So great was the imperative to move forward, take ground, and kill Germans that pilots of the landing ships had explicit orders not to stop and pick up survivors whose ships had been sunk — whether coming or going. They were to get men on the beach, return to the troop ships, and reload as fast as possible. Many men whose transports foundered or were sunk found themselves in the water slipped beneath the sea, never to be seen again. The pilots pressed on.

At Point-du-hoc, U.S. Army Rangers who were tasked with climbing the highest point overlooking the beach and destroying guns capable of bombarding the beaches found their mortar-launched climbing ropes saturated with seawater and falling short of their targets. Of 70 men tasked with climbing that hill, only 12 were left by nightfall. In one more example of cruel irony, the guns they expected to find were not there.

One unit at Omaha lost 90% of the men in the first wave. Overall, Allied casualties on D-Day were 4,400 killed and 10,000 wounded.

By nightfall, 156,000 Allied troops had landed. They had not been thrown back. They had not accomplished all they had planned for but held the beach in spite of every obstacle they had faced. Having landed successfully, they would not be dislodged.

This was the first day of the end of the war, even though victory was not always apparent. Within 10 months, it was all over in Europe. Allied forces crushed the German Army in pursuit of unconditional surrender. During their campaign, Allied armies discovered the death camps of the Holocaust scattered through occupied Europe. Six million Jews along with many Gypsies, dissenters, homosexuals, criminals, and the disabled died in those camps. Millions more might have been murdered but for the brave men who fought to free them.

9,388 Americans are buried at Normandy, casualties of D-Day and subsequent days fighting German forces. At that cemetery, the price of freedom can be seen.

This historical moment of moral brilliance is the real essence of America. There have been many others, along with days of shame. We are not defined by our shame. For every moment of shame there have been many days of a long struggle to find the right way, the way of justice. That struggle continues.

Just as Americans died at Yorktown fighting tyranny, they died at Gettysburg to end slavery. They died at Ypres’ in Flanders fields in World War to put an end to aggression. Americans marched at Selma protesting racism. The Allied soldiers of World War II on D-Day died to protect freedom and overthrow tyranny. As we live, we should endeavor to find our moment of moral brilliance.

This, then, is the real measure of America. Not unlike Moses, we have been reluctant, errant, hesitant. We have not yet reached the Promised Land, but we can see it on the horizon.

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Correction: This D-Day will be the 76th, not the 75th as originally stated.