As a pilot, and a Douglas Aircraft Company historian, I have a special place in my heart for the Santa Monica Airport in California. Like many pilots and aviation enthusiasts, I have watched in horror as the city council has pursued the destruction of the airport. As a follower of the Santa Monica Airport Association, I received the following email urging action this weekend, as a critical and irreversible move next week could send the airport further into a death spiral. If the city proceeds with the removal of more portions of the infrastructure, I guarantee there is little hope that runway portion will ever come back. It’s a waste of city resources, and a short-sighted action.
If you have a moment to spend this weekend, I ask you to join the fight and follow the suggestions in the SMAA’s release below:
SMO NEEDS YOUR IMMEDIATE ACTION!
EMAIL OR CALL THE SANTA MONICA CITY COUNCIL NOW BEFORE TUESDAY EVENING’S CITY COUNCIL MEETING!
CALL 310-458-8201 – URGE THEM TO STOP THE RUNWAY REPURPOSING PROJECT!
On October 23, the Santa Monica City Council will review bids on a project that would waste $4.4 million dollars of taxpayer money by unnecessarily removing existing pavement and safety overruns at the Santa Monica Airport. The sums they are spending are astronomical: The city has already spent $4 million to shorten the runway and over $36 million on legal fees to close the airport. Enough is enough!!!
This latest plan will have ZERO benefit to the community. The larger jet operations have been curtailed by the shorter runway. This project would make the airport and its neighbors significantly less safe by removing paved safety overruns, reducing the airport’s emergency relief capability, exposing the community to toxic construction dust, and increasing bird strike hazards to aircraft by replacing paved surfaces with dirt and grass.
PLEASE Contact City Council NOW, prior to the October 23 rd meeting and urge them to STOP the Runway Repurposing Project. E-mail[email protected] or call (310) 458-8201.
For your convenience, we’ve included the below text you may copy and past into your email for [email protected]
-Begin
SUBJECT LINE: STOP THE RUNWAY REPURPOSING PROJECT!
Dear City Council Member,
We urge you to STOP the Runway Repurposing Project. This project will make the airport much less safe for users and neighbors and eliminate the ability of large relief aircraft to use SMO during a disaster. There is ZERO benefit in removing the pavement, in fact, to do so will pose serious safety hazards to the community.
THIS MAKES NO SENSE AND IS A MONUMENTAL WASTE OF VALUABLE CITY RESOURCES!
The airport is slated to close in 2028. While it’s open, there is no reason to spend millions of our tax dollars to remove pavement. Retention of the existing pavement maintains larger than standard safety areas and preserves the airport’s value in an emergency at ZERO COST. It is incumbent on you to run this critical facility responsibly and safely.
Stop wasteful spending on projects that have zero benefit to our community.
I’ve spent much of my aviation life with one foot in the future, and one foot in the past.
Most recently, I spent a year and a half working with new pilots just starting their studies towards an airline transport pilot’s license, young people from all over the world, in a new country (to all of us), fighting to perfect their English along with puzzling through General Navigation—one foot in the future, one foot in the past.
At the same time (along with a team of real aviation history geeks), I brought into life the biography of a man, Donald Douglas, who changed our world a hundred years ago, as he graduated from the dewy-new MIT to establish the Douglas Aircraft Company and build the iconic DC-3.
As I continue to field DMs from students, as they struggle and succeed, and as I read news every day of the latest innovations trying to solve our questions of future propulsion, economy, and environmental care—I can’t help but be struck by the parallels back to similar questions Donald Douglas grappled with in the 1920s and 30s, as his wily band of engineers competed, collaborated, and convinced a wary public that flying around the world was not only possible, but safe—and should be something we must keep doing.
Clearly that general public took the bait, because we’re still building airplanes, we’re still needing pilots, and so much of the world’s commerce can happen because it’s possible for me to get on an airplane in Lisbon this afternoon and be in Singapore 26 hours later (with a few hours cooling my jets in Dubai).
A couple of weeks ago, the FAA hosted a symposium in Washington, D.C., seeking to loosen the hairy knot that’s choking the development of the aviation workforce. Because we live in a connected world, I participated in it livestream from my couch via Facebook.
Opening Panel of the FAA’s Aviation Workforce Symposium
Dr. Heather Wilson, Secretary of the Air Force, gives key insights into leading diversity
Snapshot from the FAA’s Aviation Workforce Symposium agenda
After conceding that the opening panel reflected the current state of affairs (and politics)—and deftly illustrated that we haven’t yet tackled diversity in our upper ranks—I was encouraged as the day moved on with a variety of thoughtful leaders from around the community floating up idea balloons that deserved more time than the space provided. It reminded me of the similar Pilot Training Reform Symposium hosted by SAFE (Society of Aviation and Flight Educators) in Atlanta in May 2011.
At that conference, we outlined a host of problems to address. Coming off of the worst recession many of us had witnessed firsthand, we discussed the lack of student starts, drop in aircraft sales, and diminishing flight hours all around that hung a dark cloud over the industry—but we were determined to fight these issues.
The ideas that came from that 2011 event (increase flight instructor professionalism, revamp the testing process, find new ways to market to the next generation) felt solid, but only through the collaborative effort between industry, government, and user groups did we come up with real change. Regardless of how you feel about the new Airmen Certification Standards, they reflect the substantial transformation that can happen when folks set aside their fiefdoms and work to create something new.
And that was the overall message I heard from the Aviation Workforce Symposium this September. We have a new landscape, with airlines around the world clamoring for personnel—not just pilots—and willing to pay for training and better wages to bring them on board. Turns out that when the real pain strikes you, what was once a nagging ache turns into an emergency you must address.
Priming the Pipeline Panel at the FAA’s Aviation Workforce Symposium
Pathways to Proficiency Panel from the FAA’s Aviation Workforce Symposium
At the symposium, the people who found success in recruiting diverse new entrants into the aviation community (be it pilots, technicians, or the host of support personnel making airplanes fly)—these folks brought up repeatedly the partnerships that had energized the process. The collaborations make it happen.
Case in point—and one I can relate to, given my recent experience: Students that have come into our training programs in Portugal typically do not have the same experience with the mechanical world that I had as a teenager. When I turned 16, more than 30 years ago, I had a car, and I learned how to change a tire, and an air filter, and the bulbs for my headlights. Today, even in the U.S., where a similar teen could also have access to a car, it might take dropping the entire front end of the car to get to the headlights—we’re so advanced, we’re no longer meant to service our own machines.
As for the young people I’ve mentored in the last two years: They not only may not have ever driven a car before coming to Portugal—some have never ridden a bicycle. It’s far from a lack of intelligence (that same kid could build an app for my iPhone), but a difference in exposure. At the same time, the airlines need more relevant skill in their initial candidates, though there may be less skill coming in the front door, a point brought up by several voices at the symposium.
We fiercely need to innovate and collaborate to attack this lack of exposure. If the flight school, and, subsequently the airline, notes this lack, and in partnership brings training into the high schools, we can solve this pervasive problem—and at the same time the industry gets to take advantage of the inherent marketing that occurs when a child encounters aviation in a natural, practical, relevant way.
We innovate in aviation in a stunning variety of ways, and I feel in my bones we’ll address our issues about fuel, noise, cost, comfort, and safety through evolutions we can’t yet visualize. The first flight around the world, in the Douglas World Cruisers in 1924, resulted from the innovation of the new aviation industry, backed by the support and investment of the Army Air Corps. Doug had witnessed the ineffective (at best) way government worked when unchecked, through his year with the Signal Corps in World War I—but he also knew that serving the greater good through this government contract could have a large financial payoff for his private-sector business.
I’d like to see the action list resulting from the Aviation Workforce Symposium—and determine the project to which I’ll sign my name. If each of us does the same, we can direct the innovation to address our problems.
One action item we can each put into play? Take a cue from entities as diverse as Boeing,Redbird Flight Simulations, and AOPA, and—using the work they’ve done in creating STEM curricula and other programs—help them find traction in our local schools and youth clubs. Supplement this greater action with other gestures to enhance it, such as donating materials and subscriptions to a local youth program or technical college.
My personal action has been giving support to our local air museum, and mentoring past students (our diverse “flock”) as they navigate their own specific course to an aviation career. Parallel to this? To counter any lack of opportunity, purposefully seek out young people who wouldn’t otherwise get a ride to the airport, and go to them where they are—maybe that kid isn’t watching airplanes from outside the fence because he or she can’t physically get there.
Collaboration wins, but it takes each of us to move the needle forward.
The early evening light shone into the tent, making the old orange nylon glow. It was appropriate to be there at the campgrounds of Camp Scholler in the first tent I ever camped in—my family’s tent from 40-plus years ago—for my return to Oshkosh au naturel, more than 20 years since I first put down stakes there.
It turned into a homecoming, and a new experience at the same time: My partner in crime, Stephen, celebrated his first Oshkosh ever during the 2018 show. He had an excuse: He’s a Brit. So we were both like kids returning to our more innocent years. And it turned out Scholler was a perfect place to do it—hard ground, busy showers, bugs, and all.
We rolled in around 6 pm on Tuesday, which meant we secured one of the last tent spots for the taking. Seriously, when we located our home for the next four nights, we looked around for the south boundary fence and found it just a few yards away. That made me happier than you might think: It meant that Scholler was FULL!
The view from the tent, into the evening light
A balloon launch starts a beautiful Saturday at Oshkosh
Camping next to your classic airplane? Nothing could be finer
It’s not Wisconsin without cheese curds
My guess was verified the next morning at the media briefing: Not only was Scholler at capacity, the aircraft camping filled up as well, even given the new extension, the South 40. More happiness. To have so many folks there, spending days or the whole week, and (most importantly) flying in, that made my heart sing. It’s a solid indication that our general aviation industry retains a shine, perhaps returning to full health after a decade of rough years.
So many elements go into this hope, as I found out over the course of the week at EAA AirVenture. Innovations took top billing, with forums and showcases and lots of attention from all sides. Old friends met new ones: Both the warbird and classic rows featured new faces, and the homebuilt areas were packed. The venders with whom I compared notes said business was good—a solid showing at least. More satisfaction.
Old and new friends gather for the WomenVenture photo in airshow center
It’s good to be back for the annual gathering
Two innovating leaders: Anna Dietrich and Gretchen Jahn after the Women in Aviation breakfast at Oshkosh
The unsinkable Sean D. Tucker launching the new We All Fly exhibit at the National Air and Space Museum
And the weather…nearly perfect. Does that ever happen? Okay, so, Wednesday eve we ducked out of the pouring rain around dinnertime, and feared what we’d find at the campsite. A moat? A stream? Water cascading through our tent? We lucked out. We’d picked a bit of ground that sat ever-so-slightly higher than its surroundings. And with the exception of one dumbass move (leaving the vent window unzipped), we stayed dry through that single night of showers.
But the best part of camping was the people (aside from opting out of the morning traffic jam coming into the grounds). After our early morning showers and reasonably giant coffees from the canteen, we sat outside and talked with newbies from around the country—and the world. Everyone gave off a kind of quiet joy that’s impossible to fake.
Spooky 71 joins the D Day Squadron for its 2019 memorial in Europe
So many stories behind every one of these classics
Morning at the Red Barn near the ultralights
My favorite ice cream of the show: Maple Bacon
If we were a bit worried that we might find politics a problem, our concerns faded quickly. It was as if everyone silently agreed to keep our differences outside of the airport boundaries. We had enough common ground to focus on that the divisiveness fell away. It had no place. Let’s make a pact to carry on that spirit of camaraderie, shall we? We could wind up solving our problems rather than letting them grow intractable.
It felt as though general aviation has started to use its collective will in this way to renew itself, and move forward. For a first-time visitor to Oshkosh, what I’ll call the “Spirit of Scholler” demonstrated best what GA in the United States is all about. For a longtime avgeek returning home for that annual visit to Wisconsin, it made me feel so full of hope.
A great addition: water refill stations around the flight line
Such a thrill to have Honest Vision join Together We Fly on ASA’s display!
The STEM center at the Redbird display featured classes for kids during the week
Getting quality instruction at the sims in the EAA Pilot Proficiency Center
A palpable sense of honor hangs in the air of the voluminous display hangar at the Sintra Air Base in Portugal. Just north of Lisbon, the air base hosts the nation’s air force training academy, as well as its flagship museum, the Museu do Ar (Museum of the Air, in Portuguese).
Within the main hangar and its neighbors, hundreds of noteworthy, historic, and inspiring aircraft stand waiting to help inform the curious—and the young—of the history of aviation in Portugal, and its influence on the world. Though those outside Portugal often equate its exploratory prowess with its efforts on the seas, its forays into the air—and the annals of history—began in the early days of aviation itself, and grew to prominence in the golden age of aviation, before World War II, and post-war, as Portugal used airplanes to tie together its former colonies in Africa.
You may not know, for example, that the Portuguese were among the first to cross the Atlantic—years before Lindbergh’s solo flight—as they sought passage to Brazil from Europe. In fact, the aviators Gago Coutinho and Sacadura Cabral made the first crossing of the South Atlantic in 1922, flying in segments from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro using three different Fairey III biplanes.
But among the museum’s proudest airplanes, looking over all of its fleet, my pick must be the Douglas C-47A Dakota. She forms the center of an exhibit that not only tells the airframe’s story, but also the story of TAP, the airline of Portugal, and those that flew her.
When a group of volunteers looked around for a Douglas DC-3 or its equivalent military model to restore in honor of TAP’s 70th anniversary in March 2015, they couldn’t find an example that had actually flown for the airline. All had been withdrawn from use or otherwise lost. Instead, the group found the C-47A used by the DGA (Direcção Geral de Aviação), the former authority governing aviation in Portugal. Its Douglas construction number, 19503, last carried the registration CS-DGA.
To reflect the dual purpose that the airplane would have in the museum, the group decided to give her two faces: one, the airmarkings of the DGA to suit her original mission, and the other, the classic TAP livery, to glorify the history of the airline. On the TAP side of her tail, she carries the registration CS-TDE to signify “Transporte” “Dakota” and “E,” the fifth letter of the alphabet, as she was refurbished to resemble the fifth airplane in the TAP fleet.
Inside and out, a team led by current TAP captain Carlos Tomaz bestowed great care on her refurbishment. Tomaz would dearly love to return her to flying status, but for now she serves as an educational platform and living part of history central to the museum. Periodically, the group hosts “Dakota Talks” to share stories from her past, and those of the other DC-3s and C-47s operated by Portuguese airlines, military, and governmental agencies.
The Dakota at the Museu do Ar in Sintra, Portugal, displays TAP vintage colors
For more information on the Vintage Aero Club and the Dakota restoration:
Every airplane tells a story, both as you approach it, through its lines, its condition, its patina of paint, as well as in flight, by the weight of the cargo and mission it has borne.
Every airplane that flew during the Normandy Invasion, on D-Day, June 6, 1944, executing any number of the individual missions of the day, carried far more than that. They carried their men inside, whether pilot or maintenance chief, paratrooper or glider crew on a string. On board one of the Douglas C-47s that flew that day, even to this day, you can smell the sweat and the fear and the hope that this long shot would work.
Every airplane tells its own piece of a greater story. So to bring more than three dozen of them together for the 75th anniversary of that fateful day means more than just a sum of the logistics and collaboration, the pride and even vanity of accomplishing yet another transatlantic crossing in a classic warbird. That’s why, come 2019, the gathering will feature everyone’s collective effort, as C-47s such as Placid Lassie, operated by the D-Day Squadron (an arm of the Tunison Foundation based in Georgia), make the once—now twice–in-a-lifetime trip.
Daks Over Normandy staged a gathering of D-Day airplanes at Cherbourg in June 2013 to commemorate 70 years since the invasion. While poignant and well-received, the experience that the person on the ground and outside the airport fence could have with the airplanes and their crew lacked the engagement that the organizers hoped for. Restrictions at the French airfield made it nearly impossible for folks outside the flight crews to visit the airplanes, to see them up close, to smell, touch, and even taste the stories emanating from within.
To solve this missed opportunity, Daks Over Normandy and its partner organizations plan two parts to the 2019 event. The first will bring the North American based aircraft over the pond into Duxford, England, via the northern route, currently planned to depart from the Waterbury-Oxford Airport in Connecticut and fly via Presque Isle, Maine; Goose Bay, Labrador; Bluie One West (now Narsarsuaq airfield, in Greenland); Reykjavik, Iceland; Ireland, and then on into England. While lighter aircraft with less range make the crossing all the time, doing so requires not only a lot of investment ($75,000 to $100,000 per airplane) but also logistics such as staging enough avgas at Narsarsuaq to service the series of C-47s and DC-3s with their large fuel tanks. Even so, the participating airplanes will make the trip in flights of 3 to reduce the load on the single fuel truck stationed there.
The second event recreates the invasion itself, in modern form, with the aircraft departing the south of England for the Normandy coast on the eve of the anniversary itself for fly-bys and parachute drops in France over the following days. While in France this time, the aircraft will base out of Caen, and total 36 in number, including aircraft planning to come in from as far as South Africa.
Placid Lassie may be known to folks as Union Jack Dak, for the UK flag it wore on its fuselage following its initial a few years back. In her wartime livery, she flew in all manner of operations in the European Theater during the war. She’ll be joined by Virginia Ann, a C-47 from California, a veteran of Market Garden as well, and the Liberty Foundation’s C-47 that was used to recover parts from Glacier Girl in Greenland’s ice—among many others.
The founders of the D-Day Squadron plan more events around and following the anniversary commemoration, starting with a formation flight near Manhattan prior to the crossing, and a visit to Berlin to honor those who served post-war in the Berlin Airlift. ”We’ll start in war and finish in peace,” said Eric Zipkin, chief pilot for the group. And, if all goes according to plan, about 10 of the airplanes will fly to Oshkosh 2019 to close the chapter—and continue the D-Day Squadron’s continuing mission of education and outreach. To this end, the D-Day Squadron is recruiting one veteran and one student from each of the 50 states to experience the D-Day flyover in France.
As we remember D-Day today, in 2018, preparations have long been underway for next year’s extravaganza. While the organization actively seeks sponsorship and likely has key players on board by the time you read this, you too can help to support their mission. Visit ddaysquadron.org for more information.
This is the way it should feel. This is the way it *did* feel. And it was good to get that feeling back.
I had plans to go to Wichita last weekend to take care of lingering business in town, and to see some of the warm and wonderful friends that I’ve made there. I also knew that the Citation Special Olympics Airlift (CSOA) [http://www.kake.com/home/headlines/Kansas-athletes-transported-to-2014-Special-Olympics-for-free-263166621.html] would launch that Saturday. I’ve been blessed to be part of the event (in which more than 100 private aircraft owners volunteer their airplanes and crews to fly roughly 700 Special Olympics athletes from around the country to the summer games) in 2006 [http://www.aopa.org/News-and-Video/All-News/2006/September/1/The-Wings-of-a-Dove.aspx] and 2010.
The CSOA has held a special place in my heart as one of the best examples of participation-based corporate and philanthropic leadership. Many of the Citation owners involved fly their own aircraft and make it a non-negotiable part of their calendars to spend two Saturdays in June ferrying athletes and their coaches cross country. For corporate owners, the flight departments often take the lead, and crews compete for the opportunity to volunteer.
None of these folks do it for glory or self promotion. They do it because of the feeling.
So when we were planning the weekend’s events, a friend I was staying with mentioned that she had volunteered to be part of the Textron Aviation crowd at the send-off for the Kansas Special Olympics athletes. She then said, “You should come.” I jumped at the chance.
I had not been back inside the Hex at Cessna since leaving the company in January 2012, but it took me back to the first time I was there. The Hex is the nickname for the customer delivery hangar at Cessna’s main corporate office at Mid-Continent Airport (KICT). This is also where the company has traditionally gathered for very special events.
When we arrived, just after 8 am, on the 14th, the athletes were already in the Hex enjoying a light breakfast before departure. In as much stealth as a couple hundred happy folks can muster, we gathered outside the hangar doors on the ramp in front of three CJs. We practiced our cheers, and the way we would “part the seas” for the athletes and coaches as they came out to the airplanes.
Then, the magic moment. The hangar doors lifted [http://instagram.com/p/pWYXxizWLh/] and the athletes saw their “rides” for the first time. For many, it would be their first trip on an airplane. For all of us in the volunteer crowd, who love aviation and know its worth, it was a validation of that worth, and acknowledgment of the effort the athletes had made to arrive at that moment.
That feeling, that you’re part of something bigger, something worth more than a stock price, is what had made me proud to be a Cessnan. It was real joy.
I challenge every aviation company to put that value first. It may just be what saves us.
The formation of ten wheelchairs lined the jet bridge as we disembarked in Dallas after the flight from Paris. After ten hours folded into an economy seat, I no longer felt the need to complain about my minor aches and fatigue upon seeing that reminder.
For each chair in that lineup represented a man who had survived D’Embarquement–D-Day–and the ensuing 70 years. Each one had made the journey to France for the 70th anniversary of the invasion, and each was flying back home on American Airlines Flight 49 that day.
It was gratifying to see these men, now outwardly so fragile in many cases, admired for the strength they still held inside, and their commitment to cause and country decades ago. But just as old photographs make clear, it’s incorrect to think of those actions and choices in black and white. Instead, they come back as memories properly layered in shades of grey. We saw evidence of this throughout the week in Normandy. And it was easy to read in the faces of these men as they travelled back to the United States.
The last time most of the vets walked the streets of towns like Sainte Mere Eglise and Sainte Marie du Mont, they walked past bombed out buildings, and the rubble of the homes of families just like theirs back home. What a jolt it must have been to see those streets again, now full of waving flags and cheering faces. It brings color back to those memories to know we too survived, as free countries, and friends.
We gave our heroes a healthy round of applause as we arrived at the gate; it seemed so little compared to the sacrifice, but the least we could do. It made my heart glad to see the kind treatment continue from the airline’s team as these gentlemen came off the airplane and made their way through immigration and customs with expedited care. May blessings follow these heroes on their journey home.
The church bells rang for more than 15 minutes this morning at 9 am in Cherbourg, France. They rang out across the harbor as it woke for the day. They rang out across the hills that top the peninsula and out across the sea. They rang so clearly I swear you might have heard them in Portsmouth. Oh, that you could.
The bells rang today for freedom, and for a mission that cost so much yet still chalked up success in so many ways. The most important? That 70 years later, the leaders of the countries that participated in this crucial moment all came together to commemorate the loss and the gain from the calculus of choices made.
We set out from Le Havre to Cherbourg before 6 am, leaving early in the morning so that we could cross the Pont de Normandie [http://instagram.com/p/o6xR5JTWJp/] as the sun rose. With Obama, Hollande, Merkl, Cameron, and Putin (to name a few) gathering on the beaches and cemeteries of Normandy, the Calvados region was on lock down for most of the day. With most of France’s gendarmarie in force, little seemed left to chance. But the places we chose to celebrate felt untouched by martial intervention. Indeed, that “Liberte, Egalitie, Fraternite” spirit carried the day…helped along by copious cups of beer and wine and Coca-Cola.
From Cherbourg we went out to the airport at Malpertus to watch the C-47 “Whiskey 7” and 2 C-130s assemble for their overflight of the region [http://instagram.com/p/o6yKqzzWLF/]. Though the only view we had was through the fence, it still made my heart glad to hear those rumbling engines over the French countryside. We are so lucky here in the United States for the access we enjoy–but that’s another story.
After the takeoff, we hopped in the Peugeot and drove down to Sainte Mere-Eglise. As luck would have it, we reached the exit off the N13 in time to see the three-ship cross in front of us on its way to overfly the town. Once there, we joined the festival atmosphere, as all countries bonded in the spirit of the day.
We then headed a few kilometers to Sainte Marie du Mont, the closest major town to Utah Beach. The church there sits on the town plaza, with leafy trees surrounding its Renaissance bell tower [http://instagram.com/p/o6zpBRzWNC/]. Those bells rang the hour of 6 pm, with a full 18 hours of D-Day behind us, and so many parts of the mission complete against all odds, and many more to come.
Tonight is the night that most of our young men won’t go to sleep.
The ones who are already queuing for the airplanes that will carry them into war certainly won’t sleep for a day or more. Or they will sleep forever.
The ones who wait for their ships to sail before sunrise won’t sleep either, anxious for the mission that lies ahead. Those who are already on their ships and were called to wait haven’t slept for days.
From this vantage point in France, in only an hour and a half, we’ll mark the 70th anniversary of the arrival of the 6th Division of British airborne troops, the Red Berets [http://www.memorial-pegasus.org/mmp/division_aeroportee/index.php?lang=uk], whose mission it was to drop near the bridges over the Orne at Ranville, and the Caen canal at Benouville, and secure those bridges without harming them. They would arrive in Horsa and Hamilcar gliders, led by Major General Richard Gale.
They succeeded in their mission, securing what we now call the Pegasus Bridge [http://instagram.com/p/o4EYePTWGK/] and ensuring Allied vehicles had a point to cross the canal.
So many would die in this mission, as part of the heavy price we paid on all sides for liberation from a terrible scheme.
Today we spent in Bayeux, a town preserved as though in amber, with its majestic cathedral [http://instagram.com/p/o4FAxSzWHi/] intact, spared from the heaviest blows either side could muster. Walking its charming streets was like stepping back in time.
Tonight, I go to sleep in Le Havre, which suffered devastating bombardment months after D-Day, as the port city was laid waste. It has risen from those ashes to bathe in the coastal light and carry on. Its cathedral [http://instagram.com/p/o4Fb20zWIQ/] is a modernist monument to this rebirth.
When we wake tomorrow, we’re sure to find a similar fierce light of dawn.
We passed the first of the slow-moving vehicles on the A13 winding through Calvados on our way to the beaches this morning. From miles back, I figured there had been an accident, and I braced myself for whatever miscreancy of traffic awfulness I was in for, while my husband slept off jet lag in the right seat.
Fortunately, the hold-up was merely a set of Jeeps, something that looked like a souped-up Bug, and a Deuce-and-a-half trying to keep up with the 130-kmh posted autoroute speed through some leftover rain washing over the coast. My mood lightened back to festival mode, and I wondered how we ever get so hung up on traffic jams when there is usually a good reason why they happen. Like a four-some of re-enactors driving up to Bayeux for the 70th anniversary of the Normandy Invasion.
We’d planned our trip here for months, and it started off without a hitch. The flights executed according to plan, and the exit from Paris via rental car went exceedingly well, considering we showed up with a borrowed Michelin map of France and no Euros in our collective pockets. We stopped for the night after driving about one-third of the distance to the coast, and we made up for it with an afternoon-long cruise down the coastal road, D514, stopping at each crucial spread of sand along the way.
We started at Grandcamp-Maisy, nearest to La Pointe du Hoc, the site of a critical mission for the 2nd Ranger Battalion, led by James Earl Rudder [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Earl_Rudder] and charged with securing one of the most difficult pieces of property on the coast. As we looked out over those cliffs, buffeted by wind and seeking shelter in pile after pile of leftover German installations, I couldn’t help but think, “Why was this point in the plan? Why not leave most of the power coming ashore over the paths of least resistance, like the flat beaches to the north, at Gold, Juno, and Sword?”
But I understand now that the psychological advantage of subduing your enemy where he least expects damage, where he has the most protection, is worth a multiplier to the easy battles won.
So we started our own convoy with other rental cars (I know you, silver Peugeot 308) at that toughest spot, and wound our way east until we reached those seemingly calmer beaches. And through that journey, we recognized that the fight was engaged at the same pitch no matter the field upon which it was fought.
