We will start the war from here

Free to Run -- That's Pointe du Hoc in the background. On D-Day, the tide was out as far as the objects on the right,
critical to mission success, since the obstacles would have torn out the bottoms of landing craft. But it did make
for a long dash for the infantry, exposed to fire.

Rangers climbed this cliff after mistaking the point
in the distance as their intended goal. This is shot
from the bunker at Pointe du Hoc, the object of the mission.

The tide was out when we arrived at Utah Beach this morning, just as it was when Engineers arrived the morning of June 6, 1944 to blow a hole in the Atlantic Wall allowing tanks and infantry to stream through, ultimately reaching Cherborg. Horses trained today where obstacles, traps and mines once littered the beach landscape. By the time we left this morning, after inspecting the substantial museums and installations at this location, the tide had returned and covered the beach.
Across the water, behind the horses, is Pointe du Hoc, guns there could reach Utah and beyond. They were taken out by Rangers in a storied operation made famous by Ronald Reagan when he gave a speech written by Peggy Noonan 50 years later. The Rangers missed their original land spot. Meanwhile, the 4th Division missed its intended landing spot on Utah Beach. Gen. Teddy Roosevelt famously said: "We will start the war from here."

These are the Boys of Pointe du Hoc.
These are the Men who Took the Cliffs.
These are the Champions who helped free a continent.
These are the Heroes who helped win a war.

Peggy Noonan, as read by Ronald Reagan and etched in stone at Point du Hoc.

Everywhere there's evidence of World War II. The Germans poured a lot of concrete
and it's not going anywhere. This is an bunker for a gun at Point du Hoc that took a direct hit. No guns
were in the bunkers. They were hidden in an apple orchard nearby that never took a hit until Rangers found
and disabled them. Captured at the Maginot Line, the French-made guns were never actually used by the Germans.
Many of the bombing craters at the site were created by Allied bombers returning with unused ordnance from other missions. Don't just waste them in the ocean before landing, Ike said. Dump them at Pointe du Hoc.

Chateu de Quineville

I left the windows open on the room last night. Overcast and warm. Breakfast was confusing.

We're checked in to what was once Rommel's headquarters on the Normandy coast. He picked a nice hotel. Actually, his hotel was blown to bits by the Allies. This is the rebuilt version.
We're off to see where the 101st dropped in on him nearby at St. Mere Eglise.
(He wasn't home at the time.)

French waiter hammed it up for us on Brittany Ferry trip over here.

The Great Map Room at Southwicke House

The biggest secret ever kept, exposed on the West Wall of the Southwicke House map room.

(Posted from the middle of the English Channel, aboard the Brittany Ferry, a bigger ship than any used to move equipment on D-Day. We're in the seventh deck lounge on a very slow wifi, where the master of ceremonies is playing D-Day trivia in a French accent. Karoke later, we suppose. The bus is parked in the garage five decks below. We'll cross on a smooth sea in six hours in broad daylight. Dinner is served at 6 p.m. The Allies did it overnight on rough seas. Airborne was quicker, but had a rough landing.)

For the six weeks preceding D-Day, this map room was the center of the Free World. From here the Supreme Allied Command unleashed the most powerful amphibious force ever assembled, making a massive assault on Hitler's Fortress Europa. Three million allies were commanded from here by about 15 men who met twice daily, under General Dwight Eisenhower.

Look closely, you'll see thousands of pinholes
from countless planning sessions.

Eisenhower chose Southwicke House (pronounced Suffuck) as the Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force. It is preserved (thanks in large part to Prince Charles) on a secure military base in Portsmouth and required special permission to gain access to it today.

Cut from plywood, probably on a jigsaw, the huge map was produced by an English toy manufacturer. The military ordered a full map of Great Britain and the continent, then installed only the pertinent sections on the wall, keeping it under tightest security at all times. The High Command debated, quarreled and discussed options here, but the final decision was made by Eisenhower. His command to Go was actually made in the mess near this room. Immediately on that command, he found himself abandoned with an empty cup of coffee. The massive coil had been sprung and nothing, not even Ike, could stop it now. He went over and had breakfast in the mess. Later that night, he drove out to visit with Airborne troops about to be dropped into Normandy. Their casualty rate was expected to be very high and Ike wanted to support them.

The map has been left as it was for H hour, June 6, 1944. Security was so tight that the two men who placed the ships and the lanes and arrows on the wall map were restricted to the building until after D-Day. Standing in the room, it's hard not be moved by the momentous decisions made here, the gravity of the situation, and the weight on Eisenhower's shoulders.

=============

We found an original oil painting of Ike while exploring the Dockyards in Portsmouth, where 25,000 workers toiled in the war effort in 1944, loading, repairing and preparing for the massive shipping effort. Dockyard Master Painter Tom Hall painted it, probably from a photograph, in his spare time. On retirement, Hall left the work behind at the docks where it is now exhibited.

That may be where the 101st was dropped, but your reporter is not pointing at the drop zone. That's where tonight's hotel is. The ferry will drop us about 75 miles away in a town we can't spell yet.  

It wasn't in the movie, but. . ..

Historian Ron Drez tidied up the grass around the grave of  L.J. Barnes, 26.
The headstone, chosen by his grieving parents, reads
"In Thy Presence is Fullness of Joy, At Thy Right Hand are Pleasures For  Evermore." 

Easy Company slipped into their new home in Aldebourne, England in the middle of the night, filled pallets with straw and crashed anywhere they could. When the townsfolk awoke the next morning, they had been "invaded." Fortunately for them, it was the Americans.

One of their leaders, Lt. Dick Winters, who months later would distinguish himself on D-Day and throughout the invasion, needed to get away from the organized chaos of the unit to collect his thoughts. A peace-loving man, he found a bench on a hill looking down over a graveyard that surrounded an ancient church.

He noticed a couple tending the grave of Corporal L.J. Barnes, 26, who died June 12, 1942. They were grieving the loss of their son, a member of the Royal Air Force. They soon joined Winters at the top of the hill and and there began a relationship they would cherish for decades. The Barnes' "adopted" this American who had come to pick up the cause which had taken their son. Winters and another young officer soon moved into their Aldebourne apartment over the Post Office and became part of the Barnes family.

This village path takes you up to the churchyard.

Winters related this story (and much more) years later to our trip historian, who was a key researcher for the late Stephen Ambrose, author of "Band of Brothers."

The poignant vignette, though detailed in writing, never made the HBO movie, but many think it should have.

Today we sat on the bench, visited the grave, entered the church where townspeople still gather in freedom, and went to look up at the window of the little apartment where Winters, who faced untold dangers and adversity, drew so much comfort and strength.

Our Longest Day

Spectacular cloud formations obscured the English coastline at dawn today, then broke back agreeably to reveal the River Thames, Parliament and Piccadilly Circus. We descended to Heathrow, then sped through London on the wrong side of the road to spend the afternoon in Aldebourne, a small town that hosted Easy Company in village fields, stables and homes as they prepared to invade and liberate Europe. The townsfolk "adopted" these Americans and wept openly when they departed to jump into Normandy, knowing that many of their boys would not return.

Wide open fields made perfect areas for jump and tactical training, as we imagined thousands of men on the winding roads connecting area villages taken over by this gargantuan war effort. The area looks just as it did in 1943, says our historian Ron Drez.

Alan Walters, owner of  The Crown pub in Aldebourne, won a
flight in a Spitfire, the legendary RAF fighter plane. He took a
break from his taps to illustrate the thrill of his experience.
His Dad was in the RAF.

Earlier, we entered the ancient Littlecote House (about a dozen miles from Highclere Castle of Downton Abbey fame) to see the headquarters of the Airborne Division we are following. A large section of the huge, rambling mansion was requisitioned from the willing owners. We walked on stone laid five centuries ago. Google Litttlecote House for the full story. Famous kings and queens and nobility frequented the place and there are stories. . . some not so nice.

In Aldebourne, we ordered fish and chips at the The Crown, the pub frequented by Easy Company officers. We ate outside and enjoyed the pastoral cottagy feel of this charming village.

Still jet-lagged, we're now tucked in at the Elcot in Newbury tonight. Showers, a nice meal and then a full night's sleep before Reville. We need our rest. We invade France tomorrow.

These Brits enjoy re-enacting the exploits of the American Screaming Eagles, frequently joining others
to  dress up, display memorabilia and do whatever it is that re-enactors do.
We happened on these friendly guys on the green in Aldebourne. Got us in the mood.

Three miles up, three miles down

Steve Lathan, among the many volunteers building up the historical experience at Toccoa, Georgia.

(Posted from Mile 57 on I-85 headed to Charlotte International on a bus with wifi and 110)

This mountain was an integral part of training airborne troops
from 1942 to 1945. 

We climbed the 1000 foot Mt. Currahee in Steve Latlhan's 4x4 pickup today, following the same tortuous "three miles up three miles down" route taken by World War II 101st Airborne trainees and made famous in the HBO "Band of Brothers" movie.

Steve knows the route well, his family settled here in the 1700s and got a deed to their land from the king… of England, complete with wax-imprint seal from the signet ring of James Ogelthorpe.

Of course, some of Steve's kin would say none of that was necessary, they had owned the land all along. They're Cherokee. So you might say we were carried to the top by a Cherokee guide, with some Irish thrown in. The massive uplift "stands alone" distinct from the Appalachians to the north and that's what the native name "Currahee" means . . . and "We Stand Alone" became a motto for elite troops.

So how did a family survive so many years in this rugged, wooded Georgia land? Whiskey.

There's plenty of old copper back in those woods, and Steve's grandfather was one of the best operators. "There's drinking whiskey and there's selling whiskey," old grandad would say. He personally consumed a pint of the drinking stuff every day. It must have been good: Grandad lived to be 89, was always in good health, and died with all his teeth..

Steve's employed in the timber industry these days, he pointed out the various species of hard and softwoods as we rose up the mountain. He volunteers for the historical society as needed. They're building up a remarkable history experience, all with donations -- including donors Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks. The movie and other factors have made the mountain and area a popular spot for hikers, and backpackers looking for a challenge.

We met a few of them coming up the hard way, not double-timing like Easy Company would, but pushing it nonetheless. Forty-five minutes round trip is a respectable time, we were told. Some do it in less.

FROM THE TOP
You can see North Carolina and South Carolina. On a clear day
you can see Tennesee. Our weather following Hermine was gorgeous.
Above, tour "fixer" Craig Drez enjoys the view.

On the way down, Steve showed us the old family homestead purchased by the government for 20 or 30 dollars an acre years ago.

He also showed us the culvert where Granddad would hide a keg of his selling whiskey every week and the man from town would come to get it and leave the money. "They really needed that income," he mused in his Georgia drawl. Eventually, his grandfather opened a bar at the camp gate and welcomed thirsty soldiers. Many of those soldiers are memorialized today both in granite and at the nearby military museum, which is a fitting repository of thousands of artifacts gleaned from the thousands of airborne troops and others in service to their country.

Everyone was very welcoming at the museum. It's a whistle stop on the Amtrak. Y'all come by some time. There's plenty to see in the museum. But if you want to see an old whiskey still, just ask for Steve.

Is there any activity still going on? "Not," Steve replied with a sober grin, "anything that I am aware of."

We meet the boss. . .

He asked us questions. We got a lot wrong, but we got some of it right. We've all read the books,
now we will travel to all the Band of Brothers places with the late Stephen Ambrose's right hand man.
(Don't you dare lose your name tag, we were told.) 

This is no laid-back European vacation tour. It's definitely a study trip, we confirmed today.

We received a two-hour lecture from renown World War II historian and author Ron Drez this afternoon in an Atlanta hotel meeting room, and one thing became clear: this guy knows his stuff and we're going to learn a lot about World War II.

With colorful satellite maps of Hurricane Hermine flashing on hotel lobby tvs, it was an ironic setting for today's topic: The weather in June of 1944 in one of the most unpredictable areas in the world, the Normandy Coast. The predictions had to be spot on, there could be no second chance once the Allies were committed. They somehow got it right, but it could have been a disaster. There was no Plan B.

The boss laid it all out for us, then screened an old Weather Channel feature on D-Day taken from their series "When Weather Changed History." He was one of the history experts appearing in the movie. Afterwards we went through a list of what he calls "stupid stuff."

Patty and Jeff of Prior Lake, who just happen to
be in the same group. What are the odds of a
neighbor signing up for this? Nice folks.
Minnesotans, natch, Pat Minelli's neighbors.
They've never heard of the Iron Ranger tho.

There's a lot of misinformation that surrounds D-Day lore and Ron's heard it all. We had a rollicking good time debunking myths that get told and retold and eventually stand as fact.

Over the years, Drez has interviewed almost 3000 veterans, heard their eyewitness accounts, and made personal friends of many of them. He is well-qualified to recreate our WW2 Travel Back in Time. To set the mood, he played 40s music from his collection. Here's a favorite that didn't make the Hit Parade: "I'm a Cranky Old Yank in a Clanky Old Tank." Crooner Bing Crosby sang that one.

The combat-decorated company commander has rules and protocols. Be on time, there will be carefully planned wall-to-wall events, don't screw it up. Don't lose your passport. We'll watch chapters from "Band of Brothers" on the bus, carefully timed to fit the day's activities. His son is along as a fixer, possibly enforcer.

This will be no vacation, but it is going to be loads of fun.

==================
Over cocktails tonight we covered more ground, among other things, our favorite war movies, the most inaccurate, the most true to life --- and the reasons why it is possible for Spielberg and Hanks to produce a compelling movie about the European Theatre of Operations… but not the Pacific.

Tomorrow, on to the 101st Airborne boot camp in Taccoa, Georgia, and on up the training mountain called Currahee. Hope the recent rains haven't made it impassable for the comfortable tour bus. Wouldn't want to run it like Easy Company did daily.

Which way to the beach?

An empty pilsner. Some host.

Andrew "Dudley" Sampson showed up in a muscle shirt and sandals yesterday morning.
Unfortunately, no guns are allowed at Creeksbend Golf Course so we had to loan him a collared shirt for our 27-hole round. Before we left, Andrew obligingly scampered up a two-story ladder to unplug the neighbor's gutters. Would have run a photo of that too, but the photographer was holding the ladder.
Andrew brought a couple of frozen pizzas and an armful of rhubarb stalks with him, hoping to sweet talk Katie into producing more of her jam. We'll see.
After, neighbor John Gerken joined us for beer and pizza, giving Andrew an opportunity to recount the day's links exploits. John listened patiently: The beer was cold and free.
Tonight's dilemma: The Vikings, Twins, Saints and Gophers all have home games and the State Fair is going full tilt. John and Mary have tickets to the Gopher game. What would you do? John's not sure what's going to happen.

Hermine or not, we're heading for Georgia

Atlanta and Charlotte are in play on this futurecast Hurricane Watch.

According to the Weather Channel, Tropical Storm Hermine will make landfall tonight in Florida. Its effects will be felt throughout the south, we hope not so much in Atlanta where we plan to deplane tomorrow afternoon. Saturday, it's on to Charlotte International for an overnight flight to Heathrow, after a visit to an former airborne boot camp site in Georgia. It's the first leg of a two-week World War II study trip.
We have family with property in Florida and worry for that, while comforted knowing that they're spending the summer in the north.
Be gentle, Hermine, be gentle.