Rollo's Beaches

Today is the 65th anniversary of the Allied invasion of Normandy in the Second World War. Normandy, by the way, is named for its 9th Century Viking conquerors (aka “North Men”). The Frankish King Charles the Simple ceded the land to Rollo (Robert of Normandy) by treaty in 911 A.D. in exchange for a promise of good behavior. Perhaps that is how Charles achieved the moniker “simple”. The “D Day” invasions began at 6:30 in the morning (British Double Summer Time, whatever that is) and before the day was out over 160,000 American, British, Canadian and Free French troops had established a beachhead which would grow to a deployment of over 1,000,000 men in less than a month. The first day cost 10,000 men killed, wounded or missing, and this was just the first installment of the sacrifice that would be necessary to liberate Western Europe from the grip of ignorance, fear and hatred.

For those of us who view war as one of the more idiotic features of human civilization, the Second World War presents something of a conundrum; it serves as a prime example of a war of moral obligation with a very clear distinction between the good guys and the bad guys. Whatever the historical narrative is that leads to the conflict and however morally ambiguous the actions of every nation, including our own, may have been in the years preceding the conflict, it is difficult to deny that a malignant philosophy of society arose in Germany that was antithetical to every principle of decency and fairness that free nations espouse.

I have often commented on the historical stains on our nation’s character that we have failed to properly acknowledge or address, including slavery, the callous eradication of the Native Americans and our selfish manipulation of the affairs of other nations, but America’s history is a history of moral progress, albeit inconsistent, with each succeeding generation being slightly more humane and enlightened that those that preceded. There are, of course, those who see what I define as moral progress as moral decline, but the fact that we can disagree and still buy Chinese products together at Wal-Mart says a lot about the strength of our commitment to freedom, and that’s why I don’t have my normal reservation about claiming the moral high ground for America in our struggle against European Fascism.

As a veteran of military service who was fortunately spared the violence of war, I have a difficult time imagining the state of mind of those young men filling the landing craft as they made their torturously slow approach to Normandy’s deserted beaches. I don’t know to what extent they even considered the nature of the evil they were confronting or if they felt the weight of the hopes of a continent (including a whole lot of Germans) pressing down on the bodies already burdened by 70 pounds of equipment. I think that Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan did the best job of realistically portraying the horrific nature of the assault, but there is no way that anyone who wasn’t there could ever truly understand what it took to struggle across that beach hand in hand with death.

Of all the animals in God’s creation, perhaps the one we understand the least is ourselves. Our impulse to morality has been dissected by philosophers and neuro-biologists alike, and as a species we have been obsessed with defining and understanding the difference between good and evil in the origins of our own behavior. Sociologists and political scientists have analyzed the dynamics of societies’ actions and the relationships between nations and the conflicts that arise between cultures, but none of this provides much insight into the mind of an eighteen year-old boy who is betting every girl he will ever kiss, every rollercoaster he will ever ride, every 4th of July hotdog, every warm spring day, every ice cold beer, every silent prayer and every life he will ever touch on a roll of the dice on a cold, grey beach in France, and why his soul could never rest if he didn’t.