If you ever stop for gas at a self-serve station (and about 99 percent of us do), you have to feel sorry for the guy whose picture is emblazoned on most of the pumps here in Virginia.
He's wearing a state police uniform, complete with Smoky the Bear hat, and he's staring grimly out at us and saying: "Drive off without paying, and it may be the last time you drive!"
Or something like that. (I don't have a gas pump in front of me at the moment).
Really, the gas pump officer is just trying to do us a favor. He's reminding us that while it might seem like a prudent cost-saving measure to avoid spending that $40 to fill your tank (after all, all oil companies are pirates), such a rash act may wind up costing you your drivers' license -- after you are run down by a high-speed chase and TASERED and pepper-sprayed to within an inch of your life.
Of course, if you lost your license, you wouldn't need to buy any more gas, so maybe it's a tradeoff.
At any rate, though, people seem to hate the guy on the gas pump. I've started keeping track, and the last 10 times I've stopped for gas, I've noticed that his face has been either been obliterated with magic marker, slashed to ribbons with a pen knife, or studded with wads of used gum.
The poor guy. Whether he's a real state trooper or just a model who donned a uniform for the advertisement, he's probably on a psychiatrist's couch by now.
In a way, I know how he feels. My newspaper once decided to put my picture on the sides of newspaper racks, but that experiment was short-lived. Somebody shot one of them.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Do our kids need us that much?
While I was visiting my mother in New York last month, she told me a story.
"When we lived in Wisconsin, you used to go across the street and play in the schoolyard," she said. "One day, the kindergarten teacher stopped by the house. She said, 'Did you know that Darrell has been going to class over here? He just invited himself in.'"
Shortly thereafter, I was officially enrolled in kindergarten at age four.
A cute story, I thought, until I pondered for a moment.
Wait! I was four years old, and my Mom didn't know where I was? What about pedophiles, psychopaths, rabid animals and trolls? This was, after all, the state that later produced Ed Gein and Jeffrey Dahmer, who became infamous for eating people.
"You were with the other kids," she said, "so I knew you were alright."
When I returned, I began asking friends around my age how much parental supervision they remembered as children. Almost invariably, their recollections involved interacting with other kids in an adultless world, especially in the summertime.
Back then, parents didn't barricade their kids inside the house -- they kicked them outside.
"Go play with your friends," they'd say. "Be back for dinner."
No wonder all those stay-at-home moms were able to maintain their sanity.
So has society devolved since then? Is it really all that dangerous for kids? I wonder.
The Virginia State Police Website on child safety warns: "Don't leave your child unattended in a car, even for a minute."
There are two ways of looking at this. One is to say: "The odds on my child being snatched up by somebody are very long, indeed, so I'm just going to go on about my business." Or, you might say: "Sure, it doesn't happen very often, but one time is too many if it's my child."
Now, if a parent has his or her attention diverted even for an instant from a child who then wanders off, the news stories always make a major point of it.
Granted, it's lunacy to leave your young children in the house alone and, say, go out to an all-night disco. But we act today as if the really responsible thing to do would be tether your offpsring to you at all times with a stout rope, lest something awful happen to them and you be blamed by the local TV anchorperson.
Child molesters, you know.
Moreover, we have become terrified that our children might come home from school and find no adults there. If that happens, then they're "out on the street" with, God forbid, their friends.
Maybe if we gave our kids a little more space, they might develop more maturity more quickly.
Anybody have any thoughts on this?
"When we lived in Wisconsin, you used to go across the street and play in the schoolyard," she said. "One day, the kindergarten teacher stopped by the house. She said, 'Did you know that Darrell has been going to class over here? He just invited himself in.'"
Shortly thereafter, I was officially enrolled in kindergarten at age four.
A cute story, I thought, until I pondered for a moment.
Wait! I was four years old, and my Mom didn't know where I was? What about pedophiles, psychopaths, rabid animals and trolls? This was, after all, the state that later produced Ed Gein and Jeffrey Dahmer, who became infamous for eating people.
"You were with the other kids," she said, "so I knew you were alright."
When I returned, I began asking friends around my age how much parental supervision they remembered as children. Almost invariably, their recollections involved interacting with other kids in an adultless world, especially in the summertime.
Back then, parents didn't barricade their kids inside the house -- they kicked them outside.
"Go play with your friends," they'd say. "Be back for dinner."
No wonder all those stay-at-home moms were able to maintain their sanity.
So has society devolved since then? Is it really all that dangerous for kids? I wonder.
The Virginia State Police Website on child safety warns: "Don't leave your child unattended in a car, even for a minute."
There are two ways of looking at this. One is to say: "The odds on my child being snatched up by somebody are very long, indeed, so I'm just going to go on about my business." Or, you might say: "Sure, it doesn't happen very often, but one time is too many if it's my child."
Now, if a parent has his or her attention diverted even for an instant from a child who then wanders off, the news stories always make a major point of it.
Granted, it's lunacy to leave your young children in the house alone and, say, go out to an all-night disco. But we act today as if the really responsible thing to do would be tether your offpsring to you at all times with a stout rope, lest something awful happen to them and you be blamed by the local TV anchorperson.
Child molesters, you know.
Moreover, we have become terrified that our children might come home from school and find no adults there. If that happens, then they're "out on the street" with, God forbid, their friends.
Maybe if we gave our kids a little more space, they might develop more maturity more quickly.
Anybody have any thoughts on this?
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
A Goode time to explain myself
The theme of my July 2 column was "What does it mean to be an American?" and included this line: "To Rep. Virgil Goode, apparently, it means speaking English and reading the Bible (reminiscent of another Congressman who once blurted out, in the midst of a floor debate on multi-culturalism, 'If English was good enough for Jesus Christ, it’s good enough for me!')"
A reader named Tucker Watkins took exception to the Goode reference, and wrote:
"Dear Mr. Laurant:
"Your comment on Congressman Virgil Goode was a cheap shot at best.
"Why didn’t you write a real story and call him and ask rather than give us your biased opinion?
"Your article would have been much better had you called Virginians of many political stripes and asked them what it meant to them to be an American. That might have given us all words of inspiration to remember on this wonderful holiday.
"Instead you took the easy way out and wrote something that will best be soon forgotten.
"If you took the time to get to know Virgil, you would find he is an amazing student of American history who cares a great deal about this country and feels that being an American is very special. It is sad for you and the readers of the newspaper that you have not made that effort.
"I would hope that in the future you learn a great deal more about your subject matter before putting your pen to paper."
I respect the opinion of Mr. Watkins, who seemed quite knowledgeable when I talked with him on the phone. (He is, in fact, a former Fifth District Republican chairman). But it also gives me the opportunity to explain the difference between a news story, an editorial and a column.
A news story is supposed to provide all the facts (or as many facts as the reporter can scare up) and, if it's an issue story, offer an opportunity for both sides to be heard.
An editorial injects the added element of the writers' opinion, but is still usually backed by factual evidence. In this case, though, it is not considered essential to contact both sides.
Which brings us to the column, which is sort of the newspaper version of what Jay Leno and Rush Limbaugh do. Our goal is to inform, but also to entertain, and I'm sure neither of the aforementioned on-air personalities call up every politician or celebrity about whom they make a throwaway comment.
I actually have spent some time with Virgil Goode, and have found him exceedingly affable. I once tailed him and one of his aides on Election Day, and he went out of his way to make sure I was able to make connections with them.
However, he's also a public figure, and his comments about an incoming Black Muslim Congressman using the Koran for swearing in were not only public but Virgil-initated.
Do I really think that's how he defines being an American? Probably not. I was just having a little fun at his expense (along with, I might add, a lot of other pundits around the world), although there was at least a kernel of truth there.
I do find it a little sad that we seem to have lost the ability to kid each other. These days, whenever a columnist or humorist uses politics as a jumping-off point, he or she is immediately branded as a mean-spirited zealot trying to advance some ideological agenda.
When I write a column, I'm not trying to depict myself as an expert. I'm not trying to browbeat anyone. I'm simply the guy on the next diner stool who's saying: "You know, here's what I think about this ..."
If I can stimulate some discussion and make people think -- or even laugh -- I've done my job.
So don't take me so seriously. I don't, and I doubt very seriously that Virgil Goode does. The Congressman, I guarantee, has a very thick skin.
Having said all that, though, don't be surprised if I take Tucker Watkins' suggestion next Fourth of July. It's a good idea.
A reader named Tucker Watkins took exception to the Goode reference, and wrote:
"Dear Mr. Laurant:
"Your comment on Congressman Virgil Goode was a cheap shot at best.
"Why didn’t you write a real story and call him and ask rather than give us your biased opinion?
"Your article would have been much better had you called Virginians of many political stripes and asked them what it meant to them to be an American. That might have given us all words of inspiration to remember on this wonderful holiday.
"Instead you took the easy way out and wrote something that will best be soon forgotten.
"If you took the time to get to know Virgil, you would find he is an amazing student of American history who cares a great deal about this country and feels that being an American is very special. It is sad for you and the readers of the newspaper that you have not made that effort.
"I would hope that in the future you learn a great deal more about your subject matter before putting your pen to paper."
I respect the opinion of Mr. Watkins, who seemed quite knowledgeable when I talked with him on the phone. (He is, in fact, a former Fifth District Republican chairman). But it also gives me the opportunity to explain the difference between a news story, an editorial and a column.
A news story is supposed to provide all the facts (or as many facts as the reporter can scare up) and, if it's an issue story, offer an opportunity for both sides to be heard.
An editorial injects the added element of the writers' opinion, but is still usually backed by factual evidence. In this case, though, it is not considered essential to contact both sides.
Which brings us to the column, which is sort of the newspaper version of what Jay Leno and Rush Limbaugh do. Our goal is to inform, but also to entertain, and I'm sure neither of the aforementioned on-air personalities call up every politician or celebrity about whom they make a throwaway comment.
I actually have spent some time with Virgil Goode, and have found him exceedingly affable. I once tailed him and one of his aides on Election Day, and he went out of his way to make sure I was able to make connections with them.
However, he's also a public figure, and his comments about an incoming Black Muslim Congressman using the Koran for swearing in were not only public but Virgil-initated.
Do I really think that's how he defines being an American? Probably not. I was just having a little fun at his expense (along with, I might add, a lot of other pundits around the world), although there was at least a kernel of truth there.
I do find it a little sad that we seem to have lost the ability to kid each other. These days, whenever a columnist or humorist uses politics as a jumping-off point, he or she is immediately branded as a mean-spirited zealot trying to advance some ideological agenda.
When I write a column, I'm not trying to depict myself as an expert. I'm not trying to browbeat anyone. I'm simply the guy on the next diner stool who's saying: "You know, here's what I think about this ..."
If I can stimulate some discussion and make people think -- or even laugh -- I've done my job.
So don't take me so seriously. I don't, and I doubt very seriously that Virgil Goode does. The Congressman, I guarantee, has a very thick skin.
Having said all that, though, don't be surprised if I take Tucker Watkins' suggestion next Fourth of July. It's a good idea.
Drowning a hero in beer
If you want a multi-cultural experience (or maybe you're just bored) try clicking on the Website http://www.johnsmeaton.com/.
Smeaton was the husky baggage handler who helped thwart a recent terrorist attack on the Glasgow Airport by knocking down one of the perpetrators.
"The impressive thing," said Jenny Haynes, a recent British import to Lynchburg who told me about this, "is that the guy he was fightng with was on fire."
So was the Scottish public, who immediately annointed Smeaton a hero on the order of the Flight 93 passengers. The apparent Webmaster of johnsmeaton.com wrote:
"But where, in all this insanity, is The Man Himself? Has he spurned us? Has he discarded the scrawled note, handed heart-a-flutter, to young Daniel Maddis in Arrivals at 2200 hours last night?
"The World clamours for him. Grasping hands reach out for a touch of that fluorescent vest. To feel - just once! - those red stripes that show he is Senior Ramp Assistant. To watch with reverence as he re-enacts the famous punching motion.
"The eyes of the World quest for him. And yet still he remains a stranger to us.
"This is not a man interested in a cheap shot at his 15 minutes of fame. Oh no. As al-Qaeda found out on Saturday, when Smeato acts, it is on Smeato’s terms.
"And yet - somewhere, perhaps in the wilds of Renfrewshire, he waits. He watches. Maybe he has nipped out and is having a fag (cigarette) right now. Maybe he’s reading this site right now, passing anonymously among us, like that bit in the basement of Lou’s Tavern in Fight Club. Maybe he’s even posted under a fake name. Mary? Amy? Mamy? Your guess is as good as mine.
"But I have faith. I am staying resolute, with the JohnSmeaton.com mobile phone ready for his call. Whatever the time he chooses, I will be here. Resolute and unflinching."
In the meantime, though, people have been furiously clicking on a part of the site labeled: "Pledge a Pint for John."
And John Smeaton now has 1,500 pints of beer waiting on his tab at the Glasgow Airport holiday Inn," the number rising.
Perhaps another solicitation might be: "Pledge to drive John home."
Smeaton was the husky baggage handler who helped thwart a recent terrorist attack on the Glasgow Airport by knocking down one of the perpetrators.
"The impressive thing," said Jenny Haynes, a recent British import to Lynchburg who told me about this, "is that the guy he was fightng with was on fire."
So was the Scottish public, who immediately annointed Smeaton a hero on the order of the Flight 93 passengers. The apparent Webmaster of johnsmeaton.com wrote:
"But where, in all this insanity, is The Man Himself? Has he spurned us? Has he discarded the scrawled note, handed heart-a-flutter, to young Daniel Maddis in Arrivals at 2200 hours last night?
"The World clamours for him. Grasping hands reach out for a touch of that fluorescent vest. To feel - just once! - those red stripes that show he is Senior Ramp Assistant. To watch with reverence as he re-enacts the famous punching motion.
"The eyes of the World quest for him. And yet still he remains a stranger to us.
"This is not a man interested in a cheap shot at his 15 minutes of fame. Oh no. As al-Qaeda found out on Saturday, when Smeato acts, it is on Smeato’s terms.
"And yet - somewhere, perhaps in the wilds of Renfrewshire, he waits. He watches. Maybe he has nipped out and is having a fag (cigarette) right now. Maybe he’s reading this site right now, passing anonymously among us, like that bit in the basement of Lou’s Tavern in Fight Club. Maybe he’s even posted under a fake name. Mary? Amy? Mamy? Your guess is as good as mine.
"But I have faith. I am staying resolute, with the JohnSmeaton.com mobile phone ready for his call. Whatever the time he chooses, I will be here. Resolute and unflinching."
In the meantime, though, people have been furiously clicking on a part of the site labeled: "Pledge a Pint for John."
And John Smeaton now has 1,500 pints of beer waiting on his tab at the Glasgow Airport holiday Inn," the number rising.
Perhaps another solicitation might be: "Pledge to drive John home."
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Beware of hot sauce and antlers
While spending several days visiting my Mom in Lake George, NY last week, I discovered that I had tapped into a rich vein of "news of the weird" crime stories.
These were just a few of the colorful cops-beat articles that appeared in the Post-Star of nearby Glens Falls that week:
1. In a rough-and-ready Glens Falls bar called the Daily Double, a man named Frederick A. Stimpson was apparently dared by two of his friends to swipe some money out of the cash register. There's a good bet that a considerable amount of alcohol was involved.
Unfortunately for Stimpson, bartender Shawn Breault turned out to be a professional boxer and Toughman competitor. Interrupting the caper in progress, he threw some hot sauce in Stimpson's face, blinding him. Then he knocked him out with one punch.
One of the people who had challenged Stimpson, Christine M. Amilfitano, was found to have a filet knife on her person. But there was a logical explanation, she told police: She planned to use it later to filet a snapping turtle.
2. How can you not read a story under the headline: "Neighbor's Dispute Ends in Antler Stabbing"? It seems that Bernie Baker of Moreau was building a fence on his property with some of his friends. His next door neighbor, Stacey Harrington, took exception to the fence construction, and an argument ensued -- whereupon Harrington went back into the house, emerged with a set of antlers and attacked Baker and his friends with them.
"My friends were stabbed with deer antlers, and for what?" complained Tracy Baker afterward.
3. In addition, I loved this rather deadpan line from a brief article about a burglary:
"Sandford said Anastasia went into the woman's home, vandalized it and then head-butted the woman. She suffered minor injuries."
The same week, there was also a high-speed (or low-speed) chase between a bicycle cop and a bicycle-riding fugitive on the Lake George bike path, a teenager who allegedly threw a pair of electric clippers at her mother, and perhaps the world's first recorded hit-and-run case involving a cow and a boat (the cow somewhow wandered into a canal, where it was struck and killed by a boat that kept going).
All of this would seem to prove that favorite mantra of the National Rifle Association -- take away guns and people bent on violence would just use ...
Well, antlers. Or hot sauce. Or their heads.
These were just a few of the colorful cops-beat articles that appeared in the Post-Star of nearby Glens Falls that week:
1. In a rough-and-ready Glens Falls bar called the Daily Double, a man named Frederick A. Stimpson was apparently dared by two of his friends to swipe some money out of the cash register. There's a good bet that a considerable amount of alcohol was involved.
Unfortunately for Stimpson, bartender Shawn Breault turned out to be a professional boxer and Toughman competitor. Interrupting the caper in progress, he threw some hot sauce in Stimpson's face, blinding him. Then he knocked him out with one punch.
One of the people who had challenged Stimpson, Christine M. Amilfitano, was found to have a filet knife on her person. But there was a logical explanation, she told police: She planned to use it later to filet a snapping turtle.
2. How can you not read a story under the headline: "Neighbor's Dispute Ends in Antler Stabbing"? It seems that Bernie Baker of Moreau was building a fence on his property with some of his friends. His next door neighbor, Stacey Harrington, took exception to the fence construction, and an argument ensued -- whereupon Harrington went back into the house, emerged with a set of antlers and attacked Baker and his friends with them.
"My friends were stabbed with deer antlers, and for what?" complained Tracy Baker afterward.
3. In addition, I loved this rather deadpan line from a brief article about a burglary:
"Sandford said Anastasia went into the woman's home, vandalized it and then head-butted the woman. She suffered minor injuries."
The same week, there was also a high-speed (or low-speed) chase between a bicycle cop and a bicycle-riding fugitive on the Lake George bike path, a teenager who allegedly threw a pair of electric clippers at her mother, and perhaps the world's first recorded hit-and-run case involving a cow and a boat (the cow somewhow wandered into a canal, where it was struck and killed by a boat that kept going).
All of this would seem to prove that favorite mantra of the National Rifle Association -- take away guns and people bent on violence would just use ...
Well, antlers. Or hot sauce. Or their heads.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Should law enforcement think outside the cell?
These days, we're always being urged to "think outside the box." Maybe it's time for law enforcement to think outside the cell.
The general rule at the moment, whether institutionalized by legislative decree or not, is that police and sheriff's departments never, ever, hire anyone with a criminal record.
But when you think about it, does that really makes sense?
I'm not suggesting that law enforcement agencies set up recruiting offices in Leavenworth or Sing Sing. As with so many other things, though, the "one size fits all" ban on ex-cons has undoubtedly robbed us of some potentially savvy, capable and committed police officers. After all, who knows crime and criminals as well as someone who used to be there?
Not only would this added insight help the law enforcement departments, but it would provide a ray of hope for those who truly want to put their past behind them.
Conditions, of course, would have to be met. Here are some suggestions:
1. The individual must have spent an agreed-upon amount of time out in society without getting in any more trouble (maybe psychologists could establish the proper time frame here).
2. Those who committed violent crimes would have to be culled out. If someone has serious anger issues, for examples, he's not the sort of person we want to hand a badge and gun to.
3. It would be a good idea if the individual sought employment somewhere other than the place where he committed his or her crimes. That would prevent any emotional conflict from having to arrest old friends, family members or crack-smoking acquaintances.
4. The person would have to jump through the usual educational hoops and complete the usual training programs.
After all that, though, why not? Another plus for ex-cons is that they approach the street with a certain amount of understanding and empathy, unlike those whose earlier lives have been more sanitized.
It would be a risk, to be sure, and some departments might shrink from the specter of having an ex-offender they'd hired backslide in a very public way.
On the other hand, most of the cops who misbehave on the job only see a jail cell after the fact.
The general rule at the moment, whether institutionalized by legislative decree or not, is that police and sheriff's departments never, ever, hire anyone with a criminal record.
But when you think about it, does that really makes sense?
I'm not suggesting that law enforcement agencies set up recruiting offices in Leavenworth or Sing Sing. As with so many other things, though, the "one size fits all" ban on ex-cons has undoubtedly robbed us of some potentially savvy, capable and committed police officers. After all, who knows crime and criminals as well as someone who used to be there?
Not only would this added insight help the law enforcement departments, but it would provide a ray of hope for those who truly want to put their past behind them.
Conditions, of course, would have to be met. Here are some suggestions:
1. The individual must have spent an agreed-upon amount of time out in society without getting in any more trouble (maybe psychologists could establish the proper time frame here).
2. Those who committed violent crimes would have to be culled out. If someone has serious anger issues, for examples, he's not the sort of person we want to hand a badge and gun to.
3. It would be a good idea if the individual sought employment somewhere other than the place where he committed his or her crimes. That would prevent any emotional conflict from having to arrest old friends, family members or crack-smoking acquaintances.
4. The person would have to jump through the usual educational hoops and complete the usual training programs.
After all that, though, why not? Another plus for ex-cons is that they approach the street with a certain amount of understanding and empathy, unlike those whose earlier lives have been more sanitized.
It would be a risk, to be sure, and some departments might shrink from the specter of having an ex-offender they'd hired backslide in a very public way.
On the other hand, most of the cops who misbehave on the job only see a jail cell after the fact.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
D Day was even worse than you think
What most people today don't understand about the D-Day invasion of June 6, 1944 is that it was actually a massive screwup.
Movies like "The Longest Day" depict a meticulously planned operation, executed flawlessly. But if you talk to the combatants who were there, you come away with the sense that nothing could be farther from the truth.
No military commander in his right mind would have sent his troops ashore in the face of the devastating barrage from above that killed 19 out of 35 Bedford men from Company A of the 116th Infantry Division, along with hundreds of other Allied soldiers. That German resistance was supposed to have been battered to a pulp by American, British and Canadian air power -- and besides, the defenders at Omaha Beach were said to have been green conscripts from Eastern Europe.
As it turned out, while some of the German batteries were taken out, the mischievous tides shifted many of the landing craft to an area of Normandy's Omaha Beach that was more fiercely (and capably) defended than intelligence reports would have indicated.
The advance aerial bombardment was supposed to have accomplished two purposes -- to take out as many of the German guns as possible and to create shell craters on the beach in which the invading troops could take cover.
None of this happened where Company A charged ashore. Resistance was almost overwhelming, and it came from seasoned German marksmen. The only way to find cover was to sprint across the beach, weighed down with wet clothes and equipment, and seek shelter against the face of the escarpment.
According to some later accounts, commanding Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower actually carried a worst-case scenario speech in his pocket throughout much of that longest day, something to refer to when explaining to the nation that the operation had failed, and why.
Indeed, once he saw what was unfolding, Eisenhower thought briefly of scrapping the invasion. But the huge armada of warships and planes had already been set in motion.
On the beach, military discipline stepped aside in favor of survival. Their ranks scattered, their commanding officers lying dead in the sand, the Allied soldiers simply did what they had to do as individuals to stay alive.
Now, time is reducing their ranks with cold efficiency. After the death of Roy Stevens earlier this year, Bedford resident Ray Nance inherited the mantle of Lone Survivor among the so-called Bedford Boys -- the group of National Guardsmen whose sacrifice provided the rationale for placing the National D-Day Memorial alongside U.S. 40.
So if you happen to see Nance this week, don't forget to thank him. He endured even more than you realize.
Movies like "The Longest Day" depict a meticulously planned operation, executed flawlessly. But if you talk to the combatants who were there, you come away with the sense that nothing could be farther from the truth.
No military commander in his right mind would have sent his troops ashore in the face of the devastating barrage from above that killed 19 out of 35 Bedford men from Company A of the 116th Infantry Division, along with hundreds of other Allied soldiers. That German resistance was supposed to have been battered to a pulp by American, British and Canadian air power -- and besides, the defenders at Omaha Beach were said to have been green conscripts from Eastern Europe.
As it turned out, while some of the German batteries were taken out, the mischievous tides shifted many of the landing craft to an area of Normandy's Omaha Beach that was more fiercely (and capably) defended than intelligence reports would have indicated.
The advance aerial bombardment was supposed to have accomplished two purposes -- to take out as many of the German guns as possible and to create shell craters on the beach in which the invading troops could take cover.
None of this happened where Company A charged ashore. Resistance was almost overwhelming, and it came from seasoned German marksmen. The only way to find cover was to sprint across the beach, weighed down with wet clothes and equipment, and seek shelter against the face of the escarpment.
According to some later accounts, commanding Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower actually carried a worst-case scenario speech in his pocket throughout much of that longest day, something to refer to when explaining to the nation that the operation had failed, and why.
Indeed, once he saw what was unfolding, Eisenhower thought briefly of scrapping the invasion. But the huge armada of warships and planes had already been set in motion.
On the beach, military discipline stepped aside in favor of survival. Their ranks scattered, their commanding officers lying dead in the sand, the Allied soldiers simply did what they had to do as individuals to stay alive.
Now, time is reducing their ranks with cold efficiency. After the death of Roy Stevens earlier this year, Bedford resident Ray Nance inherited the mantle of Lone Survivor among the so-called Bedford Boys -- the group of National Guardsmen whose sacrifice provided the rationale for placing the National D-Day Memorial alongside U.S. 40.
So if you happen to see Nance this week, don't forget to thank him. He endured even more than you realize.
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