Some of What’s Important to Me in My Life

Being recognized for my work

Life From My View

Julie Stephens

A Little Church

A Big Impression

With both Memorial Day and the 80^th anniversary of D-day approaching, this remembrance is paramount.

Angoville-au-Plain is a tiny village in the Normandy region of northwestern France where I was fortunate to visit in April 2024. The church there is a little known, out of the way, important piece of history connected to the Utah Beach. Utah Beach proved to be a critical landing site, late in the planning of D-day. This is where US paratrooper units dropped behind enemy lines the night before the invasion.

My husband and I spent an afternoon with author and battle-field guide Dale Booth. Dale shared his passion for Normandy and its 1944 war history by telling us stories; similar to those he wrote in his book: Geronimo’s Medics. All proceeds from Dale’s book go towards the Association Sauvegarde de IÉglise d’ Angoville-au-Plain and the maintenance of the church and its monuments.

Perhaps I feel a connection to the story of this quaint village and petite church because my husband and I live in a tiny village. My Catholic upbringing and my sensitive nature play a part in embedding a connection to this community into my soul. Dale’s charisma and passion was as an important piece of this experience, as well as being in the same place where this history was lived. Dale reminds me of my middle school history teacher, making the events come alive with his stories. He balanced the overwhelming sadness of this atrocious scenario with a bit of lightheartedness. Still, the flow of my silent tears spilled out.

War creates scars. Over decades some scars may fade, others will never be hidden. This small, 12^th century church is still blood-stained. This is where medic Robert E. Wright and medic / stretcher bearer Kenneth J. Moore, both just nineteen or twenty years of age at the time, made the decision to treat any wounded soldier, American or German. Church pews were used as beds. The blood of the wounded soldiers seeped into the wood and cannot be washed away.

Robert and Kenneth agreed that no weapons were to be brought into the church. They put up a white flag with a red cross, declaring the neutrality of the church. Perhaps a benign generality is to say that the majority of medics are compassionate and caring, driven by a desire to help others – often at a great risk to their own safety.

That day an angry German officer marched into the little church with his men, not relinquishing their guns. When the officer looked around, he realized that the Americans were treating his people as their own. He had his men leave their weapons outside. He stretched his hand to Robert’s and shook it. The Germans left the church. I don’t understand, since this was able to happen – then why, why…

That April day I met Geneveive Ledoux, who was 9 years old on D-day. As of April 2024, when we were there, she was the last survivor from the village of Angoville-au-Plain during the war. Having studied and experienced how early childhood trauma impacts adult life, it seems to me that Geneveive’s earliest childhood, before the war, must have been encased in a strong, stable family life, which included siblings, a mother and father. She also has her Catholic faith. This little girl lived in a war-torn village. There was fighting, with roaring planes overhead. Geneveive and her best girlfriend, 8-year-old Lucienne Fortin, were playing until Lucienne was blown to pieces in front of her friend.

Were it possible to speak the same language I would ask Geneveive to tea. We would talk. I would like to understand what tools she found most helpful in dealing with her trauma. As it happened, we communicated our feelings. We smiled. We hugged. In 1960 Geneveive married Gustave Marie. They have two children and three grandchildren. Geneveive is a part of the association established to honor their liberators and the history of 1944. Every day, she opens, cleans, and closes the church.

There are many parts to Dale’s D-Day tour which he brings forward with our senses as we listen in the church and on the beaches, as we light candles, walk the sandy shores, look out to the horizon, feel, and meditate. Because of the bravery of these young souls, we live in peaceful countries.

Our D-Day tour with Dale ended in the American Cemetery, where 10,000 white markers memorialize the Americans who gave their lives on the beaches below. At 5:00, taps played as the American flag was taken down. Before taps the noise level of the crowds was that of the other tourists’ sites; after taps – silence and hushed tones.

I my mind’s eye back home in Hinsdale County, I remember last Memorial Day with Don singing our National Anthem, Russ reading his poem “Remember Them This Special Day” and Tara playing taps in our little village.