Freedom
Operation Overlord, June 6, 1944
A moment in eternity that transcends its own time. Freedom that was paid with a dear price to ensure that all men and women everywhere in every subsequent moment would be free.
Men and women who are free to define who they are. WHO they are as they themselves have always known. Not as others define them! The picture above captures the symbols of sacrifice of a portion of those who gave themselves.
The single most important day of the Twentieth Century did not merely free Europe or even the world at that time. It freed us all, even now. I cannot thank any of these brave souls enough.
We have come too far to turn back!
Hymn to the Fallen
composed by John Williams
from the Motion Picture
Saving Private Ryan
Comments
Thank you, 'Drea.
For your reflection, and also for sharing the piece of music. I wonder whether it was a coincidence that you chose a recording of the John Williams piece by the Danish National Symphony Orchestra? ;-)
Freedom, unfortunately, means different things to different people. For some, it implies the freedom to dominate, to persecute, or even to enslave. But that was not the vision that prevailed, eighty-one years ago, and I hope it is not the vision that will prevail today. May we prove as resolute -- and as successful -- in resisting it.
— Emma
On days like today…….
I often reflect on not just my own life, but on my family’s history. My family immigrated to what was at that time the Carolina Colony (which actually split into North and South Carolina in 1712), after fleeing Scotland following the failed Jacobite uprising in 1715. They traveled via Ulster, as did many of what would become known as the Scots-Irish, and settled in the area around Charlotte in what would later become Union and Cabarrus Counties.
Since that time, a member of my family has fought in every war, police action, or whatever we want to call them, up to and including Operation Enduring Freedom. I can claim participation in those after Vietnam, with other members of my family participating in those up to and including Vietnam. My father was in Korea, being just a bit too young for WWII - but one of his uncles was a member of the 101st Airborne and jumped on Normandy on June 6, 1944. He was later the sole survivor of his platoon after Arnem.
He was the closest thing I had to a grandfather on that side of the family, as my father’s father had committed suicide ten days before I was born. He put the business end of a Colt .32 Semiauto in his mouth and pulling the trigger. I inherited that same pistol when my father died, and it often sits in my purse, or handbag for those on the other side of the pond.
On this day, I remember the stories that he finally told me, when I spent a week with him and his wife while on leave from my ANGLICO unit as a young Naval Lieutenant. He never spoke of his time in the service, of his two combat jumps; but this one evening he and I sat watching a fire and sharing a good bottle of Scotch, and he finally opened up to me. I guess he felt some kinship, especially as I had just returned from a very shitty deployment, and was recovering from my first Purple Heart. I remember him handing me the first Scotch of the evening, and telling me he recognized the look in my eyes - that life for me had irrevocably changed.
He was right. And I will remember that night for the rest of my life. His passing meant more to me than my own father’s did, because from that night on, I felt closer to him than I did to anyone else in my family.
Absent comrades.
D. Eden
“Hier stehe ich; ich kann nicht anders. Gott helfe mir.”
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus