Reflections on Omaha Beach
Sand. As far as I could see, sand carpeted the expansive, harmless beach. Yet this wasn’t just any beach, and – seventy-one years before I arrived in 2015 – it was anything but harmless.
My World War II pilgrimage brought me to northern France. Five beaches, code-named Omaha, Utah, Juno, Gold, and Sword, dotted a 50-mile stretch of the Normandy coast. That day I stood on the most famous one,...
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