When I woke up this morning the first thing on my mind was June 6, 1944. I thought about what the troops must have been feeling as their turn came to storm those French beaches. That was just a part of it. Think about the hysteria that existed in places all over the globe as a result of Hitler’s regime. Families and people everywhere fled from Europe in the event that Hitler prevailed.
Then U.S. led troops looked the beast right in the eye and attacked. Thousands paid the price with their lives. The forces kept coming even with the casualties and the struggles they faced just getting to the beaches safely. Eventually, justice prevailed. The regime was ultimately defeated.
I just couldn’t help but think about those people who went to sleep the night or nights before knowing what was coming. It’s kind of hard to complain about a tough nights’ sleep or a morning we aren’t looking forward to when you think about what those troops faced head on. I’m thankful for their efforts. I can’t begin to imagine how that scene looked or felt, being there for the greater good.
I guess I celebrate D-Day for the victories big and small. I celebrate the plan, the execution, and the fortitude to see it through. Fortitude that often times seems to have been replaced by a sense of entitlement nowadays. But mostly I recognize history and I think about those troops, what they faced, and how they still went where trouble was waiting, trouble that needed to be obliterated. It took everyone of them to get the job done even though many never saw the outcome. 68 years removed, and thousands of miles away, from the comforts of a free, American home, I thank and honor all those who served our country and those who served their own countries along side the U.S. troops on that unforgettable day. God bless the United States of America.