Eighty-one years have passed since American troops landed at Normandy — an event that changed the course of history and helped bring down the Nazi regime. Yet the 80th anniversary came and went last year with barely a murmur of national recognition.
That silence speaks volumes.
The most enduring lessons come not from strategy but from the men who waded ashore, knowing they might not live through the morning. Why did they do it?
Deep divisions have clouded American political life, but failing to commemorate the most significant amphibious invasion in history marks more than forgetfulness. It reflects a broader unease with our own history and the sacrifices that secured our liberty.
The Trump administration has begun to reverse that drift, reviving public recognition of the past in ways absent during the Biden years. Critics have seized on moments like President Trump’s recent remarks at West Point, where he appeared to downplay Allied contributions. Those contributions must never be forgotten. But the American role in defeating Nazi Germany — and especially in the brutal and heroic assault on Fortress Europe — cannot be overstated.
No day better symbolizes that effort than June 6, 1944.
The beginning of the end
D-Day ranks with Gettysburg, Meuse-Argonne, and Iwo Jima in the American martial canon. Its outcome was anything but assured.
Operation Neptune — the seaborne phase of Operation Overlord — followed months of planning that began in late 1943 after Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, and Joseph Stalin conferred in Tehran. Stalin had pushed hard for a second front to relieve Soviet pressure. Churchill preferred a Mediterranean approach. But the Americans insisted on France. We won the argument.
Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower became supreme commander. British Gen. Bernard Montgomery was named ground commander. The invasion would take place in late spring.
Three major conditions needed to be met before Neptune could launch.
First, the Germans had to be pinned down in the east. Hitler’s invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941 had already opened a two-front war that Germany could not sustain. Despite massive Soviet losses, the Red Army had recovered. The Wehrmacht had not. It was arguably Hitler’s greatest blunder.
Second, the Allies needed air superiority. Through strategic bombing and air-to-air combat, the U.S. and Britain weakened the Luftwaffe, hitting factories, airfields, and supply depots. By June 1944, Allied fighters controlled the skies over France.
Third, the Mediterranean had to be secure. Campaigns in North Africa and Italy tied down German forces and freed up Allied naval resources for the invasion of Northern France.
With those conditions met, the Allies selected Normandy as the landing site. Pas-de-Calais was closer to Germany and easier to resupply but far more heavily fortified by the Nazis. Normandy offered a more realistic point of attack — provided the Germans could be fooled.
Deception and preparation
Operation Fortitude aimed to do just that. Allied intelligence fed Germany a steady diet of false information. Fake radio traffic, dummy landing craft, and bogus army units — including a fictitious command under Lt. Gen. George Patton — convinced Hitler that Calais would be the invasion point.
The ruse worked. German commanders remained fixated on Calais long after troops began pouring ashore at Normandy.
Military theorists had long understood how war resists prediction. “Everything in war is simple,” Carl von Clausewitz observed, “but the simplest thing is difficult.” Clausewitz’s “friction” and Helmuth von Moltke’s warning that “no plan of operation extends with any certainty beyond first contact with the main hostile force” applied in full. Amphibious landings, by their nature, magnify every point of failure.
The plan called for landings on five beaches, with three airborne divisions deployed inland. U.S. forces hit Utah and Omaha. British and Canadian forces landed at Gold, Juno, and Sword. Airborne units dropped behind German lines to disrupt reinforcements.
The moon and tide had to align. Weather delayed the launch from June 5 to June 6. That delay caught the Germans off guard. General Erwin Rommel had left France to celebrate his wife’s birthday. Other commanders were away conducting war games.
The landings begin
Allied bombers struck German positions after midnight, followed by naval bombardment. Many shells landed behind the defenses, missing their targets. That failure would prove costly.
British forces advanced steadily, although only the Canadians reached their assigned D-Day objectives. Montgomery had hoped to seize Caen that day. British troops would not take the city for weeks.
The 4th Infantry Division at Utah Beach caught a break, landing in the wrong spot due to strong currents. But the division met light resistance and advanced quickly. The 2nd Ranger Battalion scaled Pointe du Hoc and took heavy losses but completed its mission.
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Photo courtesy of Walt Larimore
Omaha was a bloodbath. German defenses remained largely intact, and U.S. troops were cut down on the sand. Casualties reached 2,400 — the highest of any landing. Despite the carnage, immortalized in “Saving Private Ryan,” small units clawed their way inland, broke through the defenses, and held the beachhead.
By nightfall, the Allies had established a tenuous grip on Normandy. U.S. forces pushed toward the port of Cherbourg. British units hammered away at Caen. American troops slogged through the bocage.
On July 25, U.S. forces broke out at Saint-Lo. By August, the Allies had encircled 50,000 German troops in the Falaise pocket. By the end of August, Paris was liberated. Operation Overlord had succeeded.
What D-Day means now
The victory in Normandy depended on strategy, deception, adaptation, and above all, human will. The Allies fought as partners — ideologically divided but functionally united. The Axis powers, despite ideological similarities, failed to coordinate effectively.
Every war plan eventually collapses. Things go wrong. What matters is how commanders and soldiers respond to chaos. D-Day demanded that kind of adaptation under fire. Clausewitz understood this. So did the men who stormed the beaches.
The most enduring lessons come not from strategy but from the men who waded ashore, knowing they might not live through the morning. Why did they do it?
J. Glenn Gray, in “The Warriors: Reflections on Men in Battle,” offers one answer:
Numberless soldiers have died, more or less willingly, not for country or honor or religious faith or for any other abstract good, but because they realized that by fleeing their posts and rescuing themselves, they would expose their companions to greater danger. Such loyalty to the group is the essence of fighting morale.
These soldiers protected more than one another. They preserved the American republic. They fought against an ideology bent on erasing it.
Success in war depends not only on weapons and tactics but on leadership, courage, honor, and duty. These virtues allow men to overcome fear and endure the chaos of combat. On June 6, 1944, those virtues burned white-hot in a handful of men who refused to retreat.
U.S. Army historian S.L.A. Marshall wrote that “thousands of Americans were spilled onto Omaha Beach. The high ground was won by a handful of men who on that day burned with a flame bright beyond common understanding.”
That flame still burns.
We’ve seen it elsewhere throughout our history — at the Chosin Reservoir, in Hue, in Fallujah, and in Helmand Province. America continues to produce men willing to face death to protect others. We should thank God for that fact — and pray we remain a nation worthy of such sacrifice.
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