NO WALK ON THE BEACH

--> It was 70 years ago, on a quiet French coast in Normandy, cold and overcast that man awakened the Devil, knocked on his door and announced: “We are here”. Most of the world enslaved under the heels of the tyrants of Germany and Japan, made them begin to truly feel the wrath of free men from across the sea.

It troubles me every year to think that we have a thing in this country called: “Memorial Day weekend sales and/or celebrations,” it seems like we should take the person we all so loved dearly, and on the anniversary of their death go out and have a good time, forgetting them entirely. Just think of it as Good Friday if you are Christian, and even there it is commercialized.

I often wondered how it must have felt to be in on that invasion, heading to a foreign shore I may have never been to before, facing the prospects of dying on a sandy beach, or mutilated before I even touched the ground. I wonder how hard my heart can pump, how well I could even think at that point, getting closer to the shore. I wonder how those brave Americans felt who did step on the beaches and saw their fellow soldier killed instantly, the water colored red, and exposed to somebody who is out of sight that with a good aim: will send me into the hereafter.

To me sacrifice is giving what I need to someone else for a good reason, be it life or freedom, freedom of choices or of fear, of worship or just to go and come in my life as I please. That is what these many American, Canadian and British troops did that fate filled June morning so long ago. I often think that a big chunk of their young lives was taken away to face the Devil himself.

Today, as we watch the passing of that great generation, the men and women who responded to the calls of duty pass away before us, we need to grasp this day in particular, hold it to our hearts and thank the Almighty that they stood in the way of tyranny so that we have this freedom we practice today. May God bless them all and reward them for His work, and being His hand.

Although written about World War I, This beautiful tribute by a Canadian physician: Canadian physician Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae illustrates so well what we must all hear.

IN FLANDERS FIELDS

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.