THE DONKEYS BRAY

 

Major Richard Blaine finds himself an unwilling, invisible witness to the luminaries 

listening dispassionately to an invasion plan that will cost thousands of lives.

The American section in the graveyard at Normandy

A total of 4,414 Allied troops were killed on D-Day itself, including 2,501 Americans. More than 5,000 were wounded. In the ensuing Battle of Normandy, 73,000 Allied forces were killed and 153,000 wounded. The battle — and especially Allied bombings of French villages and cities — killed around 20,000 French civilians.

THE DONKEYS BRAY

“Leadership: Lions led by donkeys.”

- Erich Ludendorff

 

Eisenhower spoke for ten minutes, and his confidence and certitude seemed to sweep through his audience like a surging wild fire … except for me.

I knew about the suicide note in his left blouse pocket:

"Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold, and I have withdrawn the troops.

My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to this attempt, it is mine and mine alone. May God have mercy on my soul.”

He ended his speech with a stirring conviction of victory that rang false what with my knowledge of that note:

“We can and will do this! 

I am absolutely confident in the outcome!”

Field Marshal Bernard Law Montgomery then rose and briefed the major points of the overall effort with focus on the ground plans. He was very much a monotone teacher to his attentive pupils.

The horrendous number of deaths that would follow in the wake of his plan seemed not to enter his mind at all.

Never raising his voice, pointing to the map and slicing the most complex maneuvers into the simplest designs for his students at hand.

 It was a masterful, bloodless performance about what I knew would be a slaughter and put the glue to the pretty puzzle parts.

Myself?

I saw rivulets of blood running and oozing all along the contours of Montgomery’s large three-dimensional model on the floor.

To all in attendance this was merely a large-scale chess game with flesh and blood soldiers as the pieces on an abstract board which held no danger to them … and, therefore, no meaning to them either.

Our flag does not fly because the wind moves it. It flies with the last breath of each soldier who died protecting it.

 It doesn't take a hero to order men into battle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle.

Or a fool … or maybe a little bit of both.

At the conclusion, there was a moment of silence as the stage was empty. The King rose and faced the audience.

He began to speak. and it was clear he was fighting to retain lucidity from his innate stammer. His words were precise, measured, and utterly sincere.

I respected his bravery in facing this audience with such a handicap. It meant more to me than if I had heard him do an encore of Henry V’s speech:

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!”

Last to speak, and drawing all eyes, was Churchill.

When America withheld their aid at the darkest of the early war, his deep voice and stirring words were the greatest weapons Britain had.

With a somber expression, he took a fighter’s stance, pulled at his black lapels, and began to speak.

The tone was melodic and the phrasing poetic.

All the strength and sinew of his words, the only tool the English had in the beginning, was sonorous and touched even my cynical heart … a little … until I remembered his voice reminded me unsettlingly of my enemy, Mr. Morten.

What had Shakespeare written. “God hath given us one face, whilst villains’ words giveth themselves many others.”

“We will invade. We will defeat Germany!”

He paused dramatically. ““I am hardening to this enterprise.”

A Voice like a thunder of vibrating tuning forks echoed above all our heads:

“ENOUGH SELF-AGGRANDIZING PRATTLE! TIME TO HEAR FROM THE CANNON FODDER!”

I sighed. Where was the ghost of Shakespeare when you needed him?