They’re turning 100 this year, those soldiers who fought in the D-Day campaign. Eighty years ago, on June 6, soldiers from many countries, but particularly American, British and Canadian soldiers, and French resistance fighters, took part in one of the most famous amphibious assaults the world has ever seen. On D-Day itself, over 4,400 Allied soldiers lost their lives, and in the Normandy campaign that followed, another 73,000 Allied soldiers were killed.
My father signed up to fight on his 18th birthday, but was still in training when D-Day happened. A few months later, he helped liberate Bitche, France, and then Stuttgart, Germany, as part of the 100th Infantry Division. My mother worked with the USO in New York City in the months before the invasion, and danced with many of the young men sent overseas for D-Day. She later told me that almost all of those she exchanged addresses with died on those beaches.
D-Day was no slam dunk. No less a general than Erwin Rommel had been sent by Hitler to turn Normandy into “Fortress Europe.” There were hardened bunkers and machine-gun nests everywhere. The Allied soldiers were told to keep moving forward no matter how many men around them were shot. It was a human wave assault against overwhelming odds, but it would be the victory that sealed Hitler’s defeat.
It is a cruel irony, then, to discover just how few young people know what D-Day is, or what was done on the beaches of Normandy. A U.K. poll last month showed that fewer than half of 18- to 34-year-olds know what D-Day was, and 22% believe it is time to stop commemorating it. It’s quite possible the numbers would be similar among American young people, were they to be polled.
It is likely that D-Day will be forgotten for the most part, and possibly in a decade or so. It is the way of the world to forget our history. And yet I’d like to make the case that we should endeavor to teach our younger generations about D-Day — and there are many good online resources, such as one by the Library of Congress, that make it easier to remember.
As an international relations specialist, three lessons are especially memorable to me about D-Day, even though the events of that day took place years before I was born.
First, some military causes are just, and therefore the use of force is sometimes justified.
In this day and age — after Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan — the American electorate is extremely wary of the idea that military force is ever justified. They are right to be wary. I myself am wary. But we must never succumb to the notion that force can never be justified. That is a recipe for the triumph of evil. It mattered that the Nazi regime was completely demolished. Sometimes only such a clear defeat, unlike muddied stalemates such as existed after World War I, are the only path to real and lasting peace.
Second, only such a just cause can inspire a people to lay aside their differences and undertake extreme sacrifice risking death. This is where leadership often stumbles.
Presidents such as Lyndon B. Johnson asked for the ultimate sacrifice in a cause that was dubious from the outset in Vietnam; arguably the same can be said of President George W. Bush concerning the invasion of Iraq. Our public was more divided, not less, after these asks.
D-Day was different: Consider the small rural town of Bedford, Virginia. Thirty-seven of the 44 Bedford boys took part in D-Day. Twenty of those 37 were killed within minutes of the invasion, meaning that Bedford suffered the highest per capita loss of any town during D-Day. Despite their loss, the citizens of Bedford, Virginia, were united in gratitude for what their sons accomplished that fateful day.
Third, the bonds forged between the nations that fight together in a just cause last as long as the memory lasts.
The United States, the United Kingdom, Canada and France fought side by side on D-Day, and every year there is a commemoration of that fact on the shores of Normandy. These bonds have been durable; as memory weakens, the bonds will become more fragile. There is already a growing disconnect across the Atlantic that would have been unthinkable to those who lived through D-Day.
Finally, if we forget the story of D-Day, then we lose an important source of inspiration, both at the personal and the national level. For me, on a personal level, I cannot help but think of my father waking up with excitement on the morning of his 18th birthday and jumping out of bed to go sign up with the U.S. Army to fight Hitler. Perhaps that is why his daughter has never shunned a fight related to a good cause.
At the national level, what our forebears did on D-Day reminds us, despite our jadedness and cynicism, that our nation has the capacity to stand up for what is right, even if it involves great sacrifice — for we are the sons and daughters and grandchildren of the soldiers who stormed Normandy. In this day and age, we cannot forget that legacy.
Teach your children about D-Day. Give them some inspiration in a world of “quiet quitting.” Help them understand there are things worth sacrificing for, even in their day.
Valerie M. Hudson is a university distinguished professor at the Bush School of Government and Public Service at Texas A&M University and a Deseret News contributor. Her views are her own.