This D-Day is extra special to me.
Less than a week ago, on June 1st, I stood on Omaha beach. I stood in the sand where they bled, died, fought, screamed, and won. I stood on the beach looking out at the English Channel and imagined it filled with ships. I imagined the sounds of German gunfire, the pounding booms from the ship guns, the rifle fire of the men charging up on those beaches. I stood on Omaha beach and listened to the quiet whisper of a nearby tour guide explaining that the French people here don’t want our boys to be forgotten, that they watched them die to free them and they still try to honor that. I stood there with American flags flapping in a cool breeze next to a monument surrounded by flowers set lovingly around it. I stood where they stood, and cried.