“PENNSYLVANIA SIX - FIVE THOUSAND!!”
As the well known refrain stomped the ground, spirits stirred beneath.
Bob: “Jack, JACK! Can you hear what I hear?”
“JACK!”
Jack, indistinctly: “Yeah, yeah. What’s up, Bob?”
Bob: “I can hear our music! You know we love Glenn!”
Jack: “Yeah, Bob. Sure is better than “Those in Peril on the Sea”, or goddam “John Brown’s Body” Hey - it’s not midday, is it?”
Bob: “No. Let’s go take a look. Oh, how my damn leg hurts.”
Spirits rise from the ground
Bob and Jack had grown up together in the small town of Linden, Alabama where they were neighbours. Both their fathers had grown up together in Linden and married local girls. Bob and Jack were born weeks apart in 1923 and there was no reason to assume the boys would do other than as their fathers’ had done in this small parochial community where everyone knew at least something about the other and foreigners were welcomed, but not regarded as one of the community until at least a generation had passed. The 1930’s were difficult times and the Depression was felt here as much as anywhere else in the States. Their fathers worked at the local timber mill, Linden Timber Inc. which shed jobs as fast as the order book declined. In those times, tiny pieces of string not good for anything were knotted together rather than thrown away. At least in these developing times men carried the skills imbued by their parents in growing crops and raising livestock, but whilst there was enough to go around there was certainly no spare and many felt the pinch.
Although Bob and Jack were the same age and from almost identical backgrounds, their talents differed. Academically Bob towered above Jack finding it easy to learn and was seldom seen further than an arm’s length from a book. Jack had practical and physical strength and as a team they were unbeatable. In their early years they were seldom apart and when not talking animatedly, their strength could be seen in their joint silence. However, boys turn into young men and when the interest in girls started to develop they found the time for sharing had come to an end. Their ties may have lessened, but the bond remained a latent force.
1941 arrived and Bob and Jack were approaching 18 years old. Storm clouds were gathering in Europe and Hitler’s Nazi party was gaining in strength whilst invading and dominating an increasing number of European Countries. It was obvious something needed to be done to stop the plundering spread, but this was happening thousands of miles away in Europe and was of little concern to America. Why should Americans be involved?
Spirits start to float across ground now occupied by the American Battle Monuments Commission ( ABMC ) Normandy American Cemetery, Colleville sur Mer.
Jack: “Yep, it’s the same old place, Bob. I don’t see so well now, but I can see trees and bushes have grown since our time and new houses too! It sure doesn’t look much like our Beach when we landed here. When was that?”
Bob: “1944, but look, here is a cemetery with thousands of headstones. Did we win or lose this? Look at all the people, Jack. I don’t understand – look at them, who are they all?”
Bob described the scene to Jack. He could see hundreds of people gathering in the early morning listening to the music of Glenn Miller. There were family groups, singles, and old men wearing brightly coloured jackets who appeared the centre of attention. Bob thought they were veterans and slowly he realised they were veterans of the war in which he had fought. Their jackets bore famous names which they recognised, 1st Infantry Division, 29th Infantry Division, 82nd Airborne, 101st Airborne. But the men were so old. Bob could see a bright jacket emblazoned:
D-Day. 65th Anniversary.
1944 to 2009.
1944 to 2009.
Bob: “Hell, Jack, but of course, this is 2009! These vets are from our war!! We must have won, because where are the Krauts? This is the present. Wow!”
Bob continued to describe the scene to Jack. He stared in wonderment at the gaily coloured clothes of the people and at their shoes which he could not recognise. In his day those not in uniform wore jackets and pants or drab dungarees. Now reds, whites, and blues moved like chessmen across the perfectly cut green grass and immaculate white headstones. Bob could see many wore plimsolls, much larger and colourful than he remembered. Some were carrying canteens of liquid from which long draughts were taken. A number were seen to be talking into small dark objects which they held against their ears. Children had wires projecting from their ears which disappeared into their clothing and Bob wondered if they could be deaf. Their pants were too short, well above the ankle in many cases, which he thought odd because only poor kids dressed like that back home. This was indeed very strange.
As the spirits floated above the scene one veteran in a white jacket with red lettering caught Bob’s eye.
Bob: “Hey Jack, this vet is from our old unit, the 29th and look who it is! Why it’s Hal, Hal Kinzie – our old buddy!”
Jack: “Describe him, Bob. Are you sure?”
Bob: Yes, Jack, it’s Hal alright. Look - his name is on his jacket – and he’s so old!”
Bob and Jack had known Hal from their days at Huntsville High. He was from the large Catholic Kinzie family, known by everyone. Hal’s father, David, owned the only garage in town and worked all hours to keep his increasing number of children. They were a close lot. Bob remembered the time when Hal had lost some money from his pocket on the way to school and was in tears. It was money he had owed to another boy in his class, not usually known for his generosity and everyone knew he was in for a beating. Poor Hal fretted, so much so that the others took the debt upon themselves and paid the boy off.
And there he was looking all of his 85 years old. He had always been a survivor.
Bob: “Hey, Jack, just take a look at who he’s with!” Jack could see his wife beside him.
Jack: “Y’know I don’t see so well. Who is it?”
Bob: “It’s M-J!” Jack remembered how Hal and Mary-Jane had been childhood sweethearts. So, Hal and M-J were married and probably had been for many years. Bob wondered if they had children.
By this time Bob and Jack were drifting towards the podium where important people were assembling to give speeches on behalf of their country.
Bob: “I wonder who our President is now? Probably another Roosevelt, huh! Just a minute, Jack, he’s…. he’s…..”
Jack: “Yes, Bob, I can see that much. We must have come a long way since those days. We weren’t allowed to have them fighting with us in 1944.”
Bob and Jack withdrew silently into their own thoughts. It seemed like only yesterday there was chaos on the beach below and now they were looking at it in the future. Quietly their minds mulled the crowd below. How colourful their clothes were, how affluent they looked and by their size not many were short of food. Their mannerisms appeared strange, and they were clearly not shy as they were not clustered in family groups, like they would have been back home.
Jack: “These are free folks, Bob. No one is frightened and they can do what they want. Can we think it was all worth what we did, Bob?
Bob: “Yes, Jack, yes we can.”
As the spirits drifted over the Reflecting Pool, Bob caught a glimpse of himself and immediately saw why he did not see so well. Suddenly he was gone. Jack looked too, and could see why his leg hurt – it was missing. Jack then remembered the blinding white light on the Beach and twisting through the air he remembered looking down at his leg in the sand. Immediately, he too was whisked away, and his last thought was the weirdest of all….. why was no one smoking…..?
At the time of every big commemoration at Colleville, America’s president arrives to head the giving of thanks on behalf of the free world - accompanied by the sound of Glenn Miller and his orchestra.
The spirits were awoken and arose to the chant of the number killed on the Beach that day. Six, FIVE THOUSAND.
