Another nice day forecast, so we get ourselves organised. We plan to drive west, up the coast for a few kilometres and look at the various D-Day installations.
Our first port of call was the Pointe du Hoc, off the main road and leading to a generous car park with an area set aside for motorhomes and campervans. We parked up and tossed a coin of who would go first as dogs are not allowed on the site. Our last two attempts to leave The Pup in the Van while we had a wander around, have resulted in the alarm going off (we were shown, in the giddiness of picking up the Van, how to activate this particular sensor, but with one hundred other bits of important information to absorb, it didn’t quite stick) so we took it in turns to visit the site until we worked it out. I wandered down first, along a gravelly track with many other people and came across about six information boards with the stories of American servicemen who lost their lives trying to attack the German battery here. Apparently the Rangers scaled up the cliff in awful weather and under German fire to attack and miraculously managed to overcome the enemy, losing quite a few of their men in the process. A 23 year old losing his life on his 3rd wedding anniversary and a 17 year old – so tragic.
The Pointe du Hoc was strategic for the Germans as it covered both the Utah and Omaha beaches – the Allies knew that they would have to destroy it before D-Day for the mission to be successful. What’s left of Pointe du Hoc are numerous bomb craters and the remnants of the battery buildings, two of which are still standing and you are able to enter. Inside these things, there is no natural light, with low ceilings and concrete walls – it was quite eerie even with people wandering around, so to imagine being stationed here. I overheard a tourist guide that they think that German bodies still lie under the destroyed ones. As there are still live armaments and unexploded bombs scattered in the vicinity, you follow a fenced path passing craters and destroyed battery placements right up to the cliff edge where there is an intact battery, overlooking the sea through a concrete slit.
I wandered back just as huge tourist coaches disgorged their passengers, greeted by tourist guides and taken around the site. There were also smaller private minibuses with a couple of passengers aboard who were also escorted around Pointe du Hoc. It was interesting to watch all the human activity and the variety of vehicles entering. The Pup sat in the passenger seat and received a lot of waves and smiles from passing tourists.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pointe_du_Hoc
Our next stop was the D-Day Museum as we worked our way back east. On the main road, just east of Saint Laurent sur Mer, it’s a family run affair with an enormous array of World War Two artefacts and memorabilia, from artillery guns rescued from frigates, jeeps, searchlights to uniforms, ammunition and so much more. There was so much that you couldn’t really take it all in. You could also watch a film, but we declined that, happy to just wander around and read the information boards, sauntering outside to find out about the unsung heroes like the Resistance before deciding to have a spot of lunch at their cafe. We ordered a veggie Croc Monsieur with frites and a couple of coffees – it wasn’t exactly haute cuisine, but it filled a hole. Having exhausted everything that the museum could offer, we headed back onto the road and our next stop.
We passed the bigger Overlord museum, a huge grey monolithic building sat by a roundabout and headed to the Normandy American Cemetery in Colleville sur Mer – again turning off left down to its entrance. This was a major tourist spot with the landscaped car park split into three areas for coaches, campervans and cars. Again, we took turns as no dogs were allowed into the cemetery, so I wandered down, past an elegant grey futuristic visitor centre and a beautiful infinity pool overlooking the sea. Following the path round, there was a overhang where people were gathering and looking down onto Omaha beach, where we walked along yesterday. Opposite was a pathway leading to a beautiful sandstone memorial, surrounding a stunning sculpture. On the walls of the memorial were military operation maps and turning to look down the cemetery, a beautiful reflection pool and beyond the gravestones of over 9,000 American servicemen.
https://www.abmc.gov/cemeteries-memorials/about-normandy-american-cemetery
I wandered down towards the circular chapel and went inside, a quiet reverence hung in the air. The flags of America, Canada, Great Britain and France hung in front of us underneath a beautiful fresco ceiling. Though it was an American cemetery and we had no family connection to it, it was still very moving – these were men who never made it back home, like thousands and thousands of other military personnel, cut down in the most appalling situation possible and in the prime of their lives.
I strolled back up, looking at the gravestones all lined up in regimental rows, overlooking the English Channel and wondered how many of these men died on the beach below. In amongst the thousands of white crosses, there was the occasional Star of David which I found very pleasing, a nod to the Jewish servicemen. It was a very beautiful, extraordinary place and as I wandered back to the Van, I shook my head that we hadn’t learnt any lessons from two world wars and that America, in particular, had become embroiled in many conflicts since 1945.
We left, deep in thought, and headed to the village of Port en Bessin Happain, dropping down into the town centre. We followed the campervan signs (getting the hang of this now) and pulled up at a barrier. It was actually a camping aire with spaces for 25 campers and was basically a gravelly car park with campervan facilities. We ended up paying 11 Euros (including a cheeky local tax) to get in, but incredibly cheap for an overnight stay. (you could stay for up to 72 hours). We parked up and waddled into town – it’s a working fishing village, so there was a harbour, a fish market and numerous fishing boats waiting for the tide to come in. We wandered around the shops, finding a nice little restaurant bar for a cheeky pint, sitting under an awning and people watching. There seemed to be just one waitress, efficiently delivering menus, taking orders and dropping off food and drink to the relevant tables – and doing a fantastic job. The Pup got made a fuss of by some Americans and the passing public too, admiring her beautiful colouring. A few French people have struck up conversation with me, obviously talking about our Pup which is lovely, but behind my smile, I’m thinking “I can’t understand a word you’re saying” – it’s always been my biggest Achilles heel with languages, my inability to pick up the spoken word. My first line of defence is to smile and declare that I am English and I’m rubbish at French, (though I will still have a go at speaking the language albeit badly). They are usually asking what breed she is (or as one man asked today “her race” which made me smile) so I have learnt to say what breed she is, her age and she’s very laidback in French. Feeling chuffed with myself, the French then usually revert into English. 🙈. (I suppose we all need to practice).
After a bit more shuffling around town, we decided we wanted to eat here, but we were far too early. So we headed back to The Van and chilled for an hour or so, made ourselves look presentable and sauntered back to a small intimate fish restaurant we had found. We had no table reservation, but they slotted us and The Pup at a table by the window (perfect) and presented us with menu and wine list. We enjoyed a seafood platter and a pile of mussels with a couple of glasses of wine while The Pup slept by our feet. We fell into conversation with an American couple at the next table who made a great fuss of Pup before The Pup heard a low whistle from a fellow diner and headed off to another table for more adulation. We managed to stop her doing a full tour of the restaurant.
We bade goodbye to our fellow diners and the maitre d’ before walking up the darkened street to the van park. We had a slight panic when we approached the barrier and it refused to rise up and let us out – we’re we stuck in here for the night? I jumped out to the ticket machine which had instructions on how to escape – a few taps on the screen, the barrier rose and we were free.
We drove back along dark roads to the campsite and parked up. We had new neighbours. We sat for a while before finally retiring to bed. Tomorrow we head down towards St Malo and Mont St Michel before staying with some friends.
