For John, on the 70th Anniversary of D-Day

(unfinished)
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A storm north of Scotland
had created high seas beneath the Jurassic plateau that rose
one hundred feet about the rocky shore.
Not perfect weather that morning, but good enough for Overlord.
One hundred seventy five thousand men --
for the biggest military operation in history.

I knew someone who was there, who had seen it all.

"We entered the channel on a Liberty ship,
then off-loaded to a landing craft. Watching the Rangers climb Point de Hoc
was the greatest sight I'd ever seen.
They had rocks and hand grenades raining
down on their heads.  It took nerve, but they made it.  They shot ladders
into the cliffs and scaled them to fight the Germans,
often in hand to hand combat.  It was an awful sight.  We prayed as a platoon."

D-Day had arrived
at Pointe du Hoc's vertical cliffs.
Led by Rudder, with Eisenhower at the helm.
"The eyes of the world are upon you.
The hopes and prayers of liberty loving people
 march with you."

John could remember exact dates and quotes.  His memory amazed me.

From that first day

he reminded me of Hemingway
or an old sea captain.

With his piercing brown eyes and kindly smile,

he hovered over me and leaned on his cane.

His bearded face broke into a grin.
"Come on in," he smiled,
 leading me to an easy chair in his elegant apartment.

Painstakingly I had prepared,
photocopying releases, guidelines, preparing questions:
Like "How did you get through it?"

"Did you get drafted or enlist?"

 "Why did you choose the Army?"

"Well," he replied, "there wasn't much for a healthy young man to do then,

just out of high school, so me and some friends took the train
 to St. Louis to enlist.  War fever was on!"

I wondered how much news of the Holocaust had reached
the farming community where he lived.

Did he know about Kiev, Denmark, and France,
so many Jews never given a chance?

Or how Warsaw Jews resisted, plotting a revolution.
How they fought thirty days to end the Final Solution.

On a wing and a prayer.