(Published a day in advance online.)
Vol. 51, June 6th, 2023
Devoted Students
On Studying History to Learn
It’s a beautiful morning. The early June sun settles on the pages of the book. I wipe away a tear. The Peaks of Otter range stands blue in the west, hazy over Bedford. Have you heard of the little town? Probably not. It’s got a Wal-Mart and a Lowes now. And the National D-Day Memorial. Flags with young faces adorn the lamp posts. Bedford is missing 23 of her sons. Bedford paid the highest price of any town in WWII. Most of Company A never left Omaha beach. Spielberg even chipped in for the memorial, drawing inspiration for Saving Private Ryan from “The Bedford Boys” (Kershaw). I put this book down, and drop fresh eggs into boiling water, listening to them dance a merry breakfast jig. Machine guns, drowning surf, the best and worst of humanity, all seem distant, in pages lit with a gentle morning sun. Or are they?
“History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes” - Mark Twain
What’s left for the survivors—the beneficiaries, to do? I’m thinking hard about that. Maybe studying to learn is a good start.
“Taxis to Hell”
(Robert F. Sargent)
American invaders spring from the ramp of a Coast Guard-manned landing barge to wade those last perilous yards to the beach of Normandy.
Book of the Week
“The Bedford Boys—One American Town’s Ultimate D-Day Sacrifice”
(Alex Kershaw)
A gripping account of local heroes from central Virginia who gave all.
No Baseball Today
All Major League Baseball games canceled in honor of the Normandy landings this day in 1944.
Down the Rabbit Hole
Looking for something to look up? From logistics to human courage, military leadership to espionage, D-Day has plenty of threads to investigate, deeds to honor, and lessons to learn.
In a Parallel Universe
“ If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.” - Eisenhower, prepared speech in case the landings failed.
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #137)
Howdy, folks! Well, Dr. Electro is taking another week off. You see, a funny thing happened on the way to the keyboard. I was all set to write the next installment of the tale. They’re in the basement of the bad guy’s stronghold, and he’s just about to elaborate on his evil plan to take over the world, etc etc.
But then I picked up the library copy of “The Bedford Boys” (Alex Kershaw), and sat down to read a quick chapter in the morning sun “for research.” (Of all the professions in the world, and of all the excuses, writers have the most reason to lollygag with a book.)
Ghosts sprang from the pages, echoes of distant surf and machine gun bullets rattling against landing craft doors, freezing water running red, impossible cliffs, concussions and explosions and yells and...it all got in my eye. Every time I study D-Day, the worse it gets, and the quicker my vision blurs. Maybe crying is a sign of weakness. Guilty as charged.
23 “Bedford Boys”, hailing from just over yonder here in central Virginia, never came home, never got to hear the local birdsong, never got to fresh cut hay drying in the fields, never got to see this morning as my neighbors.
I can’t write a silly story for you today. I will next week. They were silly, once. The ability to be silly is a subset of Freedom, and Freedom is worth dying for. They did, and I thank them. But simple words of thanks aren’t enough, for at least two reasons. The first is obvious. It’s a matter of proportion. Flag-waving platitudes are easy to confuse with a sincere gratitude. The second is more subtle, and ominous. To quote Mr. Kershaw:
“Then Rangers move up the draw and started to mop up last pockets of German resistance along the bluffs. At enormous cost, the 116the Infantry and Rangers and secured the D-1 draw. The challenge would now be to keep it.” (Emphasis mine.)
To keep it. To keep it. (Freedom, civilization, the world.)
“Hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times.” – (G. Michael Hopf.)
My grandfather was a soldier in WWII. My grandmother tells me stories about the hard times. I grew up in unimaginable comfort, blind to the fruits bitterly won, and wondered what Challenge would look like, on a large scale. Be careful what you wish for. I’m not saying the global pandemic was a direct product of my wondering, but the Hopf quote rings true. To channel Solzhenitsyn as he sat freezing in the gulags, I wonder what part did I play in the fraying of the World, and how my current shortcomings hasten the pace. I’m soft. I’m working on it. Destruction isn’t always lead from a pillbox. It seems to be a gradual decay nowadays, a gentle slide, almost imperceptible. While I sound hyperbolic, the statement is in earnest. I feel a gradual decline, but am hopeful of reversal. Maybe it’s much ado about nothing. But I’d hate to miss a payment on what the Bedford Boys took care of not that long ago.
So, on this D-Day eve, when the Virginia sun smiles at the freshly cut hay and the Bedford boys aren’t here to see it, I lower my book thoughtfully, wondering..
To keep it.
- Josh
Well said. All of it.