65 Years On...

I watched at least part of Saving Private Ryan last night, nursing a beer.
It struck me that "...one day, no one will march there at all". The youngest of those who were actually there must be at least, what, 80 years old now. Not long now, and all of them will finally be together, one way or another.
I guess with D-Day such a large part of the myth of America, it may take another while for the memories to completely fail. Guys like me will stop on the memorial days to pause, and work that strange blend of memory and imagination. And the 'young people will wonder why'.

I was deeply struck by my past visits to Gettysburg, walking the ground and imagining the lines of fire. I'd like to go to Normandy some day. To stand on that beach and play out the hours of blood where it all happened. Like a bizarre pilgrimage. I was once much like those young men on Juno Beach, but I guess have never had my idealism ripped from me by the horrible reality that they faced.

Gather the ghosts close my friends...