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As We Await Ukraine’s D-Day, Let Us Recall 1944
Slicing through the thick shadows trying not to trip on any unseen obstacles or twist an ankle, I came to the end of a hedgerow, to an intersection. Looking first left then right, the coast was clear, and off I skittered down the path, doubling for a road.
Reaching the cover of the next wall formed by hedgerows, which are just glorified bushes that have been manipulated, manicured, and maintained for a thousand years forming stone-like cuts across the Norman landscape resembling a massive chessboard from above, I stopped to catch my breath. It was early. Removing my phone from my pocket, the time was 3:45 — the boys would not be hitting the beaches for another two hours or so.
Behind me, I heard something and instinctively froze. Could it be a German? The hedgerows were perfect defense structures and a well-placed MG-42 could hold up an infantry company for hours. Removing my clicker from my cargo shorts pocket, I clicked twice. In Normandy, to commemorate D-Day, I decided to make it as real as possible so I left my hotel and hit the areas where the paratroopers would be prowling through the dark accomplishing the missions that would support the arrival of the “boys” on the beaches at 6 A.M. — H-Hour.
