D-Day 80

With a Michel Sardou flashback

This week marks the 80th anniversary of D-Day and world leaders will be holding commemorations of the battle and all that it meant. I wish I believed these commemorations reflected an understanding of current threats to the West. Not sure they do, at least not from certain parties. I will be happy to be proven wrong. I have visited the landing beaches on a couple of occasions as well as Allied war cemeteries from both the world wars of the last century and I do know that many who live in that part of France remain grateful and aware and try to pass the message along to younger generations. I wrote about this here in a column in the Wall Street Journal a few years ago.

I lived in France when I was in my early 20s - ye olden tymes, when Jacques Chirac was mayor of Paris and Francois Mitterand President de la Republique - and a song I discovered back then is relevant for this anniversary. The song had actually been recorded decades before, in 1967, by Michel Sardou. If you mention Sardou to a French person, they might, depending on their politics, lose their mind. He is right-of-centre and as such, always subject to comments like, “Yes, talented man, but…” I don’t have a strong opinion about him, other than that I love some of his songs. This is one of them. It is called Les Ricains - “Ricains” is slang for “Americans.” For the record, Charles de Gaulle did not like the song - he suspected it carried a message of pro-U.S. involvement in Vietnam/pro-NATO content - and radio stations were, *cough*, discouraged from playing it. The privately-owned RTL did air it, however. (De Gaulle had “downgraded” France’s NATO membership in 1966.)

Anyway, that is all neither here not there, other than to say, plus ça change. If you understand French, please listen to these truly touching lyrics. If you don’t, listen regardless. It is essentially a song about gratitude and perspective.

[A very young Michel Sardou takes the long view of history.]

It is a song about young men dying to free people to whom they had no connection and from whom they are guaranteed no kind remembrance or word. Now, one frustrating thing about being Canadian and visiting Europe is how often people forget - or don’t mention/think about - Canadian sacrifice. This song is one case - however, as he is commenting on French anti-Americanism, it makes sense. And I hate being one of those Canadians who whines all the time about this sort of thing. What about us? As though that is really the issue. And there are ways to gently remind people. When I was studying at a university in Italy in 2019, our Italian cinema professor kept talking about when gli Americani liberated Italy. I put up my hand and corrected him - le Alleate. The Allies. I also pointed out that there was a Commonwealth War Cemetery, a resting place for British and Canadian soldiers primarily, only 15 minutes from our classroom. We have a duty to remember and not expect that everyone else will.

Which brings me to these two letters written by my uncle, Norman Christopherson, two days after D-Day. (My book of his letters is available here.) He was not part of the initial invasion but rather, was sent over to France in July. Letters surely took some time to get from England to Canada - my grandparents must have wondered if he was on those beaches that morning. I sense simultaneous excitement and desire to get on with the job in these letters. After D-Day, many - soldiers and civilians - thought the war in Europe could be over by the end of 1944. (I recently re-read Anne Frank’s Diary and, heartbreakingly, this is a hope she expressed.) But there is also a deepening feeling of foreboding, especially when compared to Norman’s previous writing. He speaks openly (as openly as possible, given censorship rules) about the invasion. To my grandfather, he describes how June 6th was a morale booster for the men, followed by a vivid description of how much machinery and action there was around them.  

June 8, 1944

Dear Pete:

Just a line as usual to let you know that I realize still that I have a great set of parents.

I am well, of course, and quite happy. Also, of course, excited, for the Second Front is still in the process of being established. You have only a small idea of what it has done to our morale over here. It’s given everything a new meaning, and at daytime we watch planes going south, and say, “Ahha!”, see them coming north and nod at one another, watch them going east & west, and murmur excitedly. We see huge convoys going in all directions and wink. We see the Higher Paid Help riding by in their command vehicles and say, “I’ll bet….”

But for the last few weeks you couldn’t imagine the air activity that was going on. Absolutely terrific, and something Canada has still to see. Every sort of plane has gone over us, in all sorts of combinations, by day and by night. We’ve been awakened at night by them, prevented from lecturing by the noise of them, and kept dizzy counting them.

At this date everything seems to be going well on the beachhead, tho’ it’s hard to say from here—just as hard, if not harder, here as it is at home. We get hourly reports, newspapers, radio reports, and all the latest rumors. All of which also make us dizzy.

At the present time, things are not too bad here—it’s been raining for a while, but it’s comfortable inside. And things, as usual, are pretty busy.

Jack Cohen & I had a short leave which I remembered to mention to mum in my airmail letter of today. It was very quiet, very pleasant, and a rest, which is what I want and need more than anything else on my leaves.

It’s still hard getting enough to read over here, but the reason is that I’ve decided not to carry too many books with me at any one time, so I read a book & then give it away. It’s strange how stale a person can get and how rapidly he can forget the things he once thought interesting and important to know. I guess it’s the same anywhere in life except at school, or maybe even there when you get into the rut of only knowing or trying to know the things that are necessary for the work then at hand. So there we are, and it’s only the fact that Jack has bright ideas once in a while, and that he flatteringly listens to me once in a while and argues me to death that prevents me from becoming entirely stagnant.

I understand Rigmore’s working as usual—too hard. She ought to know better, but I suppose it’s hard to stop her once she’s made up her stubborn mind. Anyway, if she can be talked out of it, tell her from me she can use such of my money as she thinks necessary to have a good holiday.

That’s all for now. Give my love to all,

Norm

The optimism surrounding the invasion is palpable in the letter to my grandmother. Ever a good son, my uncle tries to allay her fears about his safety - as if! Mothers worry when you go bowling.

8 June 44

Dear Mum:

Just a line to let you know that I am still well, in the best of health and happy. Jack Cohen & I just came back from 24 hr. leave which gave us a good rest. We got a hair cut—a pair of scissors—a few other things, and a good sleep—from 930 to 830—a darn good thing too.

The invasion sure started with a bang, too, didn’t it? I’m not sorry we were left out of the start. The part of England we’re in sure shows the things that had to be done. A terrific number of planes, a large number of the instruments of war, and so on have been rumbling by.

War is hell, mum, but not as bad as the hell it makes life for people that are worrying. Please try not to worry too much and don’t feel too badly that things are as they are. Try not to worry too much.

That’s about all I can say. There’s no news to add to this. We’re still living the same sort of life as before.

I haven’t done much work today, I’m glad to say. It’s a real nice rest.

Jack’s been doing the majority of the work. Good for him, I guess, but usually I have to father and mother him so it’s only fair.

Give my love to all, and wish Pete the best of everything on Father’s Day.

Norm

Jack Cohen, who appears in both of these letters, was a close friend of Norman’s in the regiment (the Algonquins). He was a medical student at the University of Toronto when he volunteered. Unlike my uncle, he survived the war. Would love to know what happened to him.

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Reminder: my other website gets updated on occasion, usually with shorter pieces and sometimes just links I think readers might enjoy. For example, I posted about the commencement speech Jerry Seinfeld gave at Duke University last month. I briefly considered publishing it here, but decided against that. Have a peek and a listen - he is so clever.