Tag: France

Except for the church bells tolling most of the day, there isn’t much going on in Sainte-Mère-Église on Sundays. Of course, there are the walking tour, restaurants, and trinket and bead shops, but no places of interest within walking distance that we had not already seen, and no buses to get to the sites that are further away.

At the tourist shop, we were surprised to find books not sold at the bookstore. More amazingly, we found photos of Dennis’ father and leads to more information. Dennis was as thrilled as a kid at Christmas and bubbled with excitement.

We visited the church where there are two stain-glass windows honoring the parachutists of the 82nd Airborne. The picture on the right depicts  Saint Michael and the insignia of various Allied military units that fought in or near the village.

It is remarkable how the people of Sainte-Mère-Église continue to commemorate those that liberated them that night of June 5, 1944 and the days following. It also honors the civilians who died at that time. Next year will be the 70th anniversary.

Below is the tree where Dennis’ father’s parachute was hung up. As bullets whizzed by, he cut the ropes to the chute–and part of his thumb in haste–fell about 30 feet, and then ran off to join other members of his team. Once gathered together, some came back to liberate the town and others went to capture a Bridge at La Fiere, a marsh three kilometers away.

We went to the Sainte-Mère-Église town hall and were lucky enough to have an interview with the mayor, Marc LeFevre. Dennis thanked him for what his predecessor did to honor Ernest R. Blanchard’s 70 birthday–sending a letter thanking him for his heroic actions on June 5, 1944, a medallion of the city, and telephoning him on the actual birth date. Unfortunately, his dad never saw the accolades or received the phone call: he died three days too soon.

The mayor was very receptive and promised to contact an acquaintance of his who might be able to help Dennis with more information about his father’s “longest day.”

His office gave Dennis six commemorative photos, though not of his father.

As we were heading to the Parachutists Memorial, we passed the house pictured above. It commemorates a parachutist, but one not on the walking tour list. As were we trying to determine who it might represent, a gentleman stopped to give us information. It turns out that Philipe R. Nekrassoff  (right with Dennis left) is an historian, writer, and owner of the house we were admiring. He immediately knew Dennis’ dad’s story and might have a photo of him, though from 1960. He will search his records and forward the info to Dennis. What a coincidence. As we were departing, he gifted us with a signed copy of his book: Magneville: Ce Jour Là …6 Juin 1944.

We walked five miles round trip to the memorial. On the way, I noticed that the architecture here is not very different from England’s–stone buildings, tile ceilings, similar chimneys. If it were not for the different crops in the fields, corn rather than oats, I would think I were still in England.

Unlike England, the French drive on the right, have a smaller breakfast, and seem a little more relaxed, not so much in a hurry, except when they are driving.

 

Cherbourg is a seaside resort town, replete with eateries, cafes, shops, and high prices. I am learning French names for shops (bakery, pastry, meat store, etc) as well a menu items. Too bad we are not staying longer in France; I would to love sample all the deliciously presented food. Or perhaps its a good idea we are not here too long–I’ve already put on too much weight. I went to the pharmacy to weigh myself, but it did not have a scale; I guess I don’t have to worry about it this way.

 

On our one-hour bus trip from Cherboug to Sainte-Mère-Église, we had a discussion with Nisar Mohmand. He is 24-year-old gentleman from Afghanistan who has has been living in France for three years, working as a welder. He was very interesting and kind, offering us lodging if we should need it. Many thanks, Nisar.

The tourist office in Sainte-Mère-Église helped us locate a B & B, and gave us a walking-tour map of the city. We visited the Airborne Museum (where I learned that Sainte-Mère-Église was the first liberated village in France), looked at the monuments and memorials around the city, and found Dennis’ father ‘s name on one, though the name is incorrect. Pvt. Ernest R. Blanchard is commemorated as Pvt. R. Blanchard.

Dennis is moved by being here, so close to the events faced by his dad on June 5, 1944. He regrets not having come here with his father, who would have had comments on everything.

Tomorrow we will visit more sites, select a guided tour of all the D-Day beaches for Sunday, and try to see the mayor who can perhaps direct us to more information about his dad and the tree he landed in.