WELCOME Heroes. Thank you for liberty. Thank you once more. Merci encore. The banners and posters, T-shirts and memorial cards welcoming the D-Day veterans were on every shop front, house and sausage stall in Sainte Mere Eglise as the town, the first to be liberated by Allied forces, celebrated the 60th anniversary of that event.
News that the American parachutists had taken the town spread quickly despite the chaos on the landing beaches and provided a vital boost to morale in those early, anxious hours.
Many young Americans died in the effort. Their chutes caught in the handsome chestnut and lime trees that still line the main square, the snagged lines left them dangling, an easy target for the Germans.
One of the luckier ones, John Steele, crashed through the roof of the church. Accounts vary of how long he hung above the aisles and how he survived, but his escapade is celebrated in the miniature parachutes that hang from windows and doors, the chute-shaped town museum and the model that clings to the church roof, his chute draped over a spire.
The locals are reared on the yarn, the tourists love it and even the American veterans returning for yesterday’s D-Day commemorations forgave the rather jovial take on the tale.
For the French, the D-Day commemorations are a celebration and American Lieutenant General John Norton, despite the heavy loss of the men he trained and led and loved like a father, wasn’t about to spoil their party.
Laying a wreath at newly unveiled monument in the town, the retired soldier, who was a major in charge of the advance parties who took on daring roles like the liberation of Sainte Mere Eglise, chose his words carefully in his bilingual speech to the assembled townspeople and veterans.
“This is a celebration of co-operation. We could not have done this without you,” he said. “Vive la France. Vive l’America. Vive la camaraderie.”
John Norton was in love with a young Wren called Francine who was based in (County Derry Ireland). For a while when he was stationed in Cookstown, he would sneak out of camp to see her at midnight and drive through the early hours to get back in time for morning call.
“So many countries, so many people, all affected by war. Part of my war was spent in Ireland. You see how we all have something in common,” he said.
They parted when her naval unit shipped out and she died when her frigate was targeted by enemy bombers. John later married in the States and his son, Johnny, now also retired, also went on to join the army and served in Vietnam.
The common bond of wartime experience transcended nationality and flag colours in northern France yesterday and though the streets were festooned with the blue, white and reds of the Union Flag, Star Spangled Banner and French tricolour, the Irish veterans were welcomed as soldiers and as Irishmen.
The gratitude of the people of Northern France for the sacrifice of their Allied liberators has not diminished with time and even if the brass bands were a bit on the loud side and the plastic parachute men a little tacky, the small gestures of individuals left a lasting impression.
An outstretched hand, a request for a photograph, a bar manager refusing to take payment for a well-earned cold beer to beat the sweltering sun.
“Merci,” said a slightly embarrassed Irish veteran who finally admitted defeat and stopped trying to thrust coins into her hand.
“Non, non, monsieur, merci,” she replied. “Merci encore.”
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Monday, June 07, 2004