Posted on Wednesday 6 June 2007
Sixty-three years ago, June 6th, 1944, the Allied Invasion Force landed on the beaches of Normandy France and began the process of ending the occupation of Europe by Nazi Germany. It is a glorious and glorified piece of American history – a piece we can all be proud of. The man who led that invasion went on to become a two term President – a Republican named Dwight D. Eisenhower. He is an American hero. I think he respected the soldiers he sent to die on those beaches.
I was two and a half years old then. I didn’t know it happened. But I do remember vividly a little bit later when everyone was in the streets beating pans and cheering, I was afraid. My mother, noticing my alarm, told me that it was okay – "The war is over!" I didn’t know that wars got "over." I guess I thought they just "were." So, her reassurances didn’t help. I think I was wiser then than I knew. Wars just "are," it seems to me still.
George Bush and Dick Cheney are my peers, maybe younger. All of us grew up with the heroism of the men on the Normandy Beaches standing in front of us. Some grew up with fathers who’d served in that War – George W. Bush being such a person. My dad was a chemist in a TNT plant, and I always wished he’d been a real soldier. Then there was the Korean War. We cut out pictures of jet planes from the newspaper and pasted them in scrapbooks. We arranged plastic G.I.’s on the lawn in mock battle and read comic books about heroic soldiers fighting Red Chinese invaders. It didn’t feel quite the same as WWII – Korea. It was darker, less heroic. President Truman fired General, McArthur, and people boo’d at the newsreel. It was part of the "Cold War." We had air raid drills and got under our desks practicing for the coming thermonuclear destruction [that would have vaporized the desks and everything underneath them]. On D-Day, we celebrated our former valor.
On my first visit home from Medical School, a friend who was in the Army brought home a West Point graduate. They talked about a place called Viet Nam, and told me a childhood friend, David, had died there. It was the days before the Internet. I went home and looked it up. It was a place the French had been driven out of. That’s all I could find in the encyclopedia. By the time I finished my medical training, it was an unpopular war – and I spent my three years in the Air Force on a fighter base feeling guilty about being a soldier. I was in Europe, working in a hospital, having a nice paid overseas vacation. I felt kind of guilty about that too. I thought often of my friend’s early death in Viet Nam.
Now, when I hear the President and the Vice President [people who didn’t even serve the way I did – suiting up and going to work every day in the military], touting slogans that were appropriate on this day, sixty-three years ago, I feel an overwhelming feeling of outrage. We stood for something back then – something very right [or at least opposed something very wrong, because it was very wrong]. And slowly, over my years, that has eroded – each war less justified, more capricious, until now – a war to be ashamed of.