D-Day, H-Hour

Today, I found myself walking down to the beach to watch the sunset (my custom in the evenings), and I realised how historical my feelings were. 60 years ago today, men younger than me were slogging head-first into gun fire that had been pre-sighted for months, on Normandy beaches code-named Gold, Juno, Sword, Omaha, and Utah. I've always had trouble in walking through sand, and I can imagine how much trouble someone would have doing it in combat boots, but to try and do such a thing with nothing but dead comrades behind and a potential slaughterhouse in front... I'm not sure I'd be able to do it. One of the most important offensives of the 20th century. Jeez. We owe them a lot. But we also owe all the other men and women who have fought so bravely to defend our Union... So it's days like this when I am especially mindful not only of the current administration's more-than-willing use of dead soldiers and civilians to further its reelection, but also of the adamant refusal to allow news of the dead to reach home. Go figure. Maybe if they had to put their asses on the line, too, they'd have different feelings.