One Man's D-Day Story

Because of my interest in history, I find the stories and the facts about D-Day to be quite compelling. However, I know nothing of the sacrifice involved, nothing of what is was like to actually experience the moment and live through it. I am fortunate to know a man (whom I've blogged about previously) who was part of the Normandy invasion.

A little background: As part of my son's elementary school's accelerated reading program, this spring he began to bring home biography/history books of well-known Americans (Dwight Eisenhower, John Kennedy among others). In these books, each of these men are referred to as a "war hero". I mentioned to Parker that we knew a war hero at our church, James Self, who had participated in the D-Day invasion of the beaches of Normandy. The following Sunday, I introduced Parker to Mr. Self and we were invited over to his house ("I have some pictures he might want to see") to look at some of his photos from his World War II days. We were honored to be invited and began to look forward to our visit.

Arriving at Mr. Self's house, we headed to the dining room table to look through a photo album of his time in the U. S. Army. This is his story. Mr. Self entered the Army shortly after his high school graduation. He spent 6 weeks in the Midwest in basic training, then had another 2 weeks of training in the swamps of Louisiana. After being allowed to return home for a few brief days, he was told to report to New York City in preparation for being sent overseas. After a brief period of training in Great Britain, he soon found himself on a ship headed toward the Normandy coast of France.

On the morning of June 6, 1944, Mr. Self was aboard a ship and loaded into a landing craft. The smaller boat was lowered off the ship by crane into the chilly coastal waters. As the landing craft reached the shore, Mr. Self drove an Army Jeep into three feet of water and onto Utah Beach. Over the course of the next several hours, as gunfire flew and as men fell, Mr. Self's unit was part of the successful effort to gain control of the beachhead. In the days that followed, Mr. Self's unit arrived in Paris (he has cool black and white photos of the Eiffel Tower from 1944) after it had been liberated.

During our visit, there was one question I had to ask, somewhat reluctantly: Were you scared? With a bit of a chuckle, Mr. Self replied, "Scared? No, I wasn't scared. We just had a job to do and we did it. And if we died, we died". I did not know how to respond to that.

The highlight of our visit is the photo below. My 6 year old son and the 86 year old Mr. Self spending time together looking through the photo album from World War II. Intergenerational. The sharing of history. The showing of respect, admiration and appreciation. Parker and I are grateful for the time spent with Mr. Self but more importantly for his courage showed on D-Day and in the service of our country.