I arrived to the office where I had booked a tour of the landing beaches of Normandy. It was a beautiful spring day, the sun shining brightly with an occasional cool breeze reminding me that I was close to the edge of the world. The tour appeared to be delayed, so I sat for several minutes outside the office which was right across the street from the train station of Bayeux. About ten minutes after the anticipated departure time, the gentleman who was to lead the group informed me the tour had been cancelled. I demanded for an alternative as the man rudely walked away. To this day I do not know what happened that afternoon, but I was left standing by the train station with no tour of the landing beaches. I had traveled to Bayeux to see the famous medieval tapestry and to visit the beaches, and I was not leaving until I set foot on the shore.
I quickly ran toward downtown along the main street where other agencies offered tours of the landing beaches, but all the afternoon tours had already departed. Determined to stand on the edge of the cliffs that afternoon, I continued what was quickly becoming a hopeless cause. My quest however came to a close when I saw a sign next to some green bicycles set against a stone wall: “Vélos a louer.” Ten minutes later I was riding a green rental bicycle down the roads of Bayeux with a small map of the landing beaches in my pocket. I found a solution, and at twenty-three years old, I was fit enough to ride a bicycle across the French countryside. The iconic beaches of Omaha and Utah were too far away, so I visited Arromanches and Longues-sur-Mer. In Arromanches I saw the remains of an artificial floating harbor where more than 300,000 men and over 100,000 tons of supplies landed in June of 1944. In Longues-sur-Mer I strolled along the remains of the German artillery battery overlooking the sea.
The beautiful, peaceful shoreline alone revealed nothing of the largest seaborne invasion in history. The green rolling hills and picturesque Norman villages I rode through said nothing of the sacrifice and bravery they witnessed many years ago. Always at a distance regardless of where I rode I could see the towering steeples of the gothic cathedral of Bayeux standing as a beacon of hope, lifting everyone and everything in the area to God. I pictured thousands of soldiers landing along the cliffs and advancing through the very same roads and hills I was riding on, seeing not only the same cliffs I saw, but also the very same stunning steeples. Were they encouraged and filled with hope by the majestic towers arising from seemingly nowhere in the middle of the fields? Was their fear soothed and their courage strengthened by the reminder that God was with them?
The cancellation of my tour provided me with a richer and more profound experience of the landing beaches. Armed only with my leg muscles and my mind, I was transported into another time as I had plenty of time to contemplate and think along the beaches, the cliffs, and the hills of Normandy. The sight of tremendous heroism in the midst of suffering and sacrifice, the visit made me grateful for the many who fought bravely in the name of freedom and goodness.
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