For many, this will be the last big memorial, the last reunion.
Eighty years after the Allied landings on the beaches of Normandy marked a decisive turning point in World War II, those veterans still alive are expected to return to France from the United States, Britain and Canada this week to mark the occasion carefully, slowly and joyfully.
There are fewer than 200 of them, with an average age of about 100.
As some veterans stepped off a hulking 767 jetliner onto the tarmac at Deauville's tiny airport on Monday — sometimes with the help of multiple assistants — many of those who greeted them wept amid applause.
for A place full of history That grand landing, when some 156,000 Allied troops arrived on the coast and began pushing the occupying Germans out of Normandy and then the rest of France, evokes a deep sense of nostalgia.
“It’s very exciting,” said Maryline Haize-Hagron, the airport director, who, like most Normandy natives, has fond memories of the D-Day landings. Her grandfather, Henri Desmet, saw American parachutists land in the swamps near his farm on June 6 and used his flat-bottomed boat to paddle dozens of paratroopers to land so they could continue the fight.
“It’s such an honour to be able to welcome them back,” she said.
Like most of the witnesses, Mr. De Smet is now dead. The anniversary comes at a dark and crucial time. War in EuropeFar-right movements Making progress across the continentthe politics of anger are constantly shifting.
Veterans come home for different reasons. Some come to honor fallen comrades. Others want to enjoy the grand celebration one last time.
“These people love us so much. We are overwhelmed,” said Bill Becker, 98, shortly after arriving on the tarmac to be greeted by a throng of children and dignitaries, including France's first lady, Brigitte Macron.
Mr. Becker was a top turret gunner for the newly formed Office of Strategic Services (the forerunner to the CIA) on covert missions. His crew flew a black B-24 Liberator bomber on moonlit nights, delivering supplies and covert operatives to resistance members behind enemy lines.
For months, his suitcase sat in a bungalow at a retirement community in Hemet, Southern California — a symbol of his hope to return to France despite his numerous health problems.
“I did,” he said with a tired smile.
If this is the last time so many veterans will attend a major event to honor the dead and celebrate freedom, it will also be the largest. The weeklong program spans 50 miles of beach and includes more than 30 pages of concerts, parades, parachutes, motorcades and ceremonies. French President Emmanuel Macron will preside over eight commemorations over three days. More than two dozen heads of state are expected to attend, including Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky.
On the tarmac in Deauville, a U.S. Army band played jazz-swing classics while members of the 4th Infantry Division formed an honor guard. A group of World War II history buffs stood by their antique military jeeps, wearing uniforms from 80 years ago. Children from a nearby elementary school waved American and French flags.
As each veteran stepped off the plane, he addressed the crowd over a megaphone. Some saluted, others waved.
One man shouted triumphantly, “I'm going to be 100.”
A large team of wheelchairs was waiting for the veterans to arrive.
“This will be the last hurrah,” said Kathryn Edwards, who with her husband, Donnie Edwards, runs the Best Defense Foundation, a nonprofit that brought 48 U.S. veterans on the nine-day commemorative trip to Normandy.
“Everything we're doing now is designed to surprise them,” Ms Edwards said.
Edwards first took four World War II veterans to France to commemorate D-Day in 2006. They jumped in the back of his rented van, climbed steps, entered rooms at the chateau and ate at whatever restaurants they could find. At the time, Edwards was a professional football player for the San Diego Chargers and enjoyed attending World War II battle reenactment camps in the offseason.
As he watched the crowds cheer the veterans as they paraded through small villages in Normandy and the Netherlands, he decided he needed to bring others back.
“Every veteran should come back and experience this,” Mr. Edwards said. “To know that what they did is still respected and honored.” For years, he did it out of his own pocket. Then in 2018, he and his wife set up the foundation.
Over the years, the Edwardses have had to make some changes. No more vans. No more stairs. No more makeshift restaurants where the food might upend the century-old constitution.
This year, the veterans are staffed by 15 medical staff, including a physical therapist and a urologist.
Each veteran is assigned a personal caregiver. Work schedules have been streamlined to provide more time for rest.
Michel Delion, a retired army general who helped manage the anniversary commemorations, said the French government had intended to shorten the commemorations to one hour to make it easier on the centenarians. Liberation Mission.
Even for France, where the president has an official “memorial advisor,” the land along the landing beaches is Commemorative activities enter a new stageMemorial plaques, statues and tombstones dot the sides of narrow roads. Roundabouts are adorned with antique tanks and other war equipment. The young faces of fallen soldiers look down on the battlefield from lampposts.
This week, locals pulled out D-Day decorations. Even more flags — American, British, Canadian, French — were flying.
Each hamlet has its own dead and its own story of liberation.
In the relatively small Calvados region, which is home to four of the five landing beaches, 600 commemorative events are planned, according to Stéphane Bredin, the top administrator of the local government.
“This is the last time these places will welcome veterans,” Mr. Bredin said.
Many people worry about what happens to veterans after they retire.
“This is a question we have been asking ourselves for a long time,” said Marc Lefèvre, who has been mayor of Ste.-Mère-Église for 30 years and has witnessed many joyous reunions of locals with American veterans who fought nearby. What is the answer? “Honestly, I don't know,” he admitted.
But given the density of memorials and museums in the area, he said he hopes the story of June 6, 1944, lives on.
Denis Peschanski, a historian who chairs Mission Liberation’s 15-member scientific advisory board, said the D-Day landings have become such an iconic event in France that people will keep their memories alive even after the veterans have left.
“There was the revolution,” he said, referring to the 1789 revolution that overthrew the old regime, “and the landings during World War II, when we fought side by side against the Nazis. That's fundamental.”
Veterans' memories grow increasingly hazy and blurred over time. Many don't talk about the war until years later, or even at all.
Mr Becker was sworn to secrecy until the 1980s, when information about his unit, dubbed the “Politicians of Opportunity”, was declassified.
(In early 1945, about 10 months after the Normandy landings, after months of training in the United States, he and his crew landed at Harrington Airfield in England and were taken to a room.
“They told us, ‘If you go out here and say anything, you’re going to be shot,’ ” he recalled. The flight plans into enemy territory were so sensitive that only the navigator and pilot knew where they were going. From his perch, Mr. Becker’s job was to protect the plane from enemy aircraft and anti-aircraft guns — crucial because the crew flew at just 400 to 600 feet and navigated by moonlight.
His planes sometimes returned with bullet holes and branches on their bellies. His second flight was so horrifying that he grew his first gray hair. “My knees were shaking,” he said. He was 19.
Mr. Becker never told his wife and three children what he did during the war. Now that he can talk about it, he wants everyone to know about these opportunistic politicians.
This was his second time attending the commemoration in Normandy, and this one was particularly moving because he was joined by another of his crew members, 99-year-old Hewitt Gomez.
Mr. Becker had been talking about buying them a bottle of champagne for months to share. It was truly a reunion within a reunion.
“I’m glad we contributed to winning the war,” Becker said. “We contributed to the world and made it a better place.”
