The American Memorial Cemetery: A Short Story
Having the ability to stand where many brave men have fallen will forever be an experience that I will hold in the highest regard. Seeking a new adventure, I traveled with ITT to Normandy, France. We endured a long, yet beautiful bus ride, that would take me to Omaha beach, and later the American Memorial Cemetery. There I was, standing on this dark street corner on a cold September morning. My bags were packed, and as I was waiting for the bus to arrive. I'm thinking that maybe I'm early because, I'm the only one currently standing there. Just when I thought I might be in the wrong place, people suddenly started to appear out of nowhere. One by one, more of my fellow service members arrived, filling the street with both familiar and
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As we stepped off the bus, the first thing I noticed was the entrance to the cemetery. It was a long paved road, with tall trees planted on both sides. We started toward the road, whispering among ourselves about the things we had seen. Nothing could have prepared us for what we saw next. A sea of white crosses that graced the earth. The view was absolutely amazing. I stepped lightly between the white headstones, stopping only to read the names and dates of those that died. The field was so large that I couldn’t possibly have walked all of it in the short time we were allotted. The further I walked, the more I started to notice a trend. Most of the soldiers that died were my age, if not younger. What Made me stop and reflect the most was gazing upon the stones that offered no name, but only the date in which they departed this world. No one knew who they were. Looking at the engraved headstones made me realize how precious life is. As the day drew to an end, and it was time to leave, we all returned to the bus. The atmosphere when we all settled into our seats was somber. Humbled by what we had seen, we must have thought it best not to speak. As if speaking would somehow tarnish the memory of those that perished. I am certain that I will not forget this moment in my
As we stepped off the bus, the first thing I noticed was the entrance to the cemetery. It was a long paved road, with tall trees planted on both sides. We started toward the road, whispering among ourselves about the things we had seen. Nothing could have prepared us for what we saw next. A sea of white crosses that graced the earth. The view was absolutely amazing. I stepped lightly between the white headstones, stopping only to read the names and dates of those that died. The field was so large that I couldn’t possibly have walked all of it in the short time we were allotted. The further I walked, the more I started to notice a trend. Most of the soldiers that died were my age, if not younger. What Made me stop and reflect the most was gazing upon the stones that offered no name, but only the date in which they departed this world. No one knew who they were. Looking at the engraved headstones made me realize how precious life is. As the day drew to an end, and it was time to leave, we all returned to the bus. The atmosphere when we all settled into our seats was somber. Humbled by what we had seen, we must have thought it best not to speak. As if speaking would somehow tarnish the memory of those that perished. I am certain that I will not forget this moment in my