I had the great opportunity to stand on sacred ground today. I stood in Saints Mere Englise where I watched over 500 paratroopers jump from several flyovers. Then, I stood in front of the church where John Steele, a paratrooper from the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, became entangled on the church's steeple. He hung there, suspended for nearly 2 hours before the Germans cut him down and took him prisoner. It was a horrible day for the paratroopers. They missed their landing area just out of town and landed right in the middle of Sainte Mere Englise. Buildings were burning at 1:40 AM. And the Germans could easily see the illuminated paratroopers coming down.
John Steele survived the war and died in May of 1969.
To this day, the church maintains a parachute on that steeple and a dummy paratrooper.
If you are curious about the inside of the church:
Finally, I drove to Omaha Beach to pay my respects to all of those who served in WWII....and to those especially who did not survive those first few days.
I was disappointed with the beach. It had become commercialized. And, a beach wall had been build to help protect the sand dunes soldiers had to climb in the face of machine gun and mortar fire. This small statue was about all that remained. However, the American cemetery was beautiful, quiet, and respectful. It was incredibly moving.
It is a great honor to be here this week. I've seen hundreds of people gathering to pay their respects to the British, French, Canadian and US troops.
At the parachute jump, an older French gentleman began speaking to me in French. I listened quietly until he finished speaking and said, "I am sorry. I don't speak French." Then, I pointed to myself and said, "American.".
He grabbed my left arm....and shook my hand.....and said, "Merci. Merci."
To the greatest generation that ever lived. Thank you.
John Steele survived the war and died in May of 1969.
To this day, the church maintains a parachute on that steeple and a dummy paratrooper.
If you are curious about the inside of the church:
Finally, I drove to Omaha Beach to pay my respects to all of those who served in WWII....and to those especially who did not survive those first few days.
I was disappointed with the beach. It had become commercialized. And, a beach wall had been build to help protect the sand dunes soldiers had to climb in the face of machine gun and mortar fire. This small statue was about all that remained. However, the American cemetery was beautiful, quiet, and respectful. It was incredibly moving.
It is a great honor to be here this week. I've seen hundreds of people gathering to pay their respects to the British, French, Canadian and US troops.
At the parachute jump, an older French gentleman began speaking to me in French. I listened quietly until he finished speaking and said, "I am sorry. I don't speak French." Then, I pointed to myself and said, "American.".
He grabbed my left arm....and shook my hand.....and said, "Merci. Merci."
To the greatest generation that ever lived. Thank you.
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