D-DAY - Book review

Stephen A Ambrose’s weighty tome D-Day does what it says on the cover: it’s about the battle for the Normandy beaches on June 6, 1944. It was published in 1994 to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the landings; my copy was published in 2002. Ambrose regards it as a love song to democracy.

At 655 pages, with 9 maps, a glossary and extensive endnotes and two sections of contemporary photographs, this is a daunting volume. Ambrose has relied on many sources, many of them from oral histories and memoires: a remarkable compilation, covering that one unforgettable day.

Ambrose’s style is very readable and lucid and is not judgemental but reasoned.

As early as 1941 the Allies began preparing for the invasion against the formidable ‘Atlantic Wall’ that Rommel and others had constructed. The identity of the target beaches was highly secret and amazingly on the day came as a surprise for the German high command. Although no plan seems to go according to plan, the preparation was formidable: for example, every Allied warplane was painted with white bands around the fuselage and wings (during the invasion of Sicily, Allied planes had been fired upon by their own ships and troops (p194).

There were many ruses and feints employed to confound the Germans, including dummy parachutists landing near Le Havre and Rouen (p216).

On the fateful morning of June 6 Eisenhower was in bed, smoking, and reading a Western novel. He had met the troops prior to their embarkation, enthusiastic, tough and fit men with ‘the light of battle in their eyes’ (p483). He did not interfere now the battle was about to begin; the forces were committed.

The air bombardment not only included the Atlantic Wall positions but inland targets elsewhere, still to confuse the enemy. ‘By 0800 many aircrews were back at the base, having a second breakfast [maybe Ambrose had read Tolkien?]. The RAF returned to Caen, trying to concentrate on the rail station. The Germans in Caen, in retaliation, took eighty French Resistance prisoners out of their cells and shot them in cold blood’ (p248). The Geneva Convention was abused repeatedly: ‘Jerry would deliberately shoot the medics. I think that the hottest place in hell is reserved for the man that would do that’ (p424). In contrast: ‘On the beach, men saw Father Lacy go down to the water’s edge and pull the dead, dying and wounded from the water and put them in relatively protected positions. He didn’t stop at that, but prayed for them and with them, gave comfort to the wounded and dying. A real man of God’ (p429).

Regarding the equipment, there was friendly rivalry between the Americans and the British. ‘They managed to disable two enemy tanks with Gammon grenades (how the Yanks loved that British grenade; it was the best antitank weapon they had, far superior to their own bazookas – if they could get close enough)’ (p310). Gen. Percy Hobart came up with some ideas: floating tanks – using the so-called duplex drive (DD) and the ‘Crab’ – a tank with a drum in front, flailing chains to detonate mines, nicknamed Hobart’s Funnies. (p54). ‘We were saved by our flail tanks’ (p551).

The germ of the idea for Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan: ‘Sgt Bob Niland was killed at his machine gun post at Omaha Beach. One of his brothers was killed the same morning at Utah Beach. Another brother was killed that week in Burma. Mrs Niland received all three telegrams from the War Department announcing the deaths of her sons on the same day. Her fourth son, Fritz, was in the 101^st Airborne; he was snatched out of the front line by the Army’ (pp316/317).

The stories of heroics are thick and fast in this longest day: ‘We sometimes forget that you can manufacture weapons and you can purchase ammunition but you can’t buy valour and you can’t pull heroes off an assembly line’ (p359) – which is as true today as it was then.

Author Ernest Hemingway was in the seventh wave onto Omaha Beach, reporting for Collier’s, and employed his inimitable descriptive style: ‘the big guns sounded as though they were throwing whole railway trains across the sky’ (p478).

There is an enlightening if brief chapter regarding the feelings of those at the home front on both sides.

Unsurprisingly, the emphasis is mainly on the American landings. Description of the British and Commonwealth landings only begins on p508 – amounting to about 70 pages. Lt. Richard Todd arrived with the Fifth Parachute Brigade, having starred in three films and then joining up in 1939; BBC broadcaster Capt. Huw Wheldon landed in a glider.  The Atlantic Wall took the Germans four years to build; at the beaches of Gold, Juno and Sword it had held up the Canadian and British forces for about an hour. (At Utah Beach, the Americans were held up less than an hour; at Omaha, less than a day.) (p577).

If you want a more detailed British perspective, you could try James Holland’s Normandy ’44 and Brothers in Arms.

The planned British capture of Caen was over-optimistic due to several factors; ultimately, Ambrose concluded that ‘The British were outstanding in gathering intelligence, lousy in using it’ (p517).

Eisenhower concluded that the price paid by the Allies was heavy, but they did it that ‘the world could be free’.

Editorial comment:

There are very few typos, not worthy of comment; however, I couldn’t resist this:

‘You have heard of the Lord Mare’s Show...’ (p510) – which, clearly, should be the Lord Mayor’s Show...