On our way north, we visited Monet's passion, the gardens at Giverny. We saw a late Summer garden , a Norman Close crammed with annuals especially nasturims creeping across the gravel walks. The pink and white stucco house was envelopped in ivy. As we proceeded toward the beaches farmstands proclaiming cidre bouche beckoned us. The cider was cool and refreshing, not until half hour later did we realize bouche meant hard cider. We giggled our was along the narrow Norman roads, on each side the vegetation loomed above us as if were were in a twenty foot ditch. These were the famous hedgerows which had given the enemy tanks such difficulty.
The white sand invasion beaches were all marked for the visitor either British or American. At low tide the landing craft would have been hundreds of yards from hard dry sand. We thought of our accountant friend Bernie Berkowitz who landed here during the invasion. He had carried his weapon high above his head, his back carried his pack. Each step was a journey into hell as the Germans had the high ground and were shooting at our oncoming soldiers. Pointe du Hoc was something out of a Douglas Fairbanks movie script. The only way to reach the top of the point was to throw an anchor up and climb the rope. This is what the Rangers did.
After lunch we visited the American Cemetery. No one buries the way the military does, perfect rows in all directions, horizontal, vertical, diagonal and almost all the fallen younger than twenty-one. If you informed the office of your visit a garland of flowers would be placed on the grave of your loved one for your visit. Never before or since have I cried for people I did not know.
In the morning we went to the great cathedral at Rouen. Monet had painted it many times st different hours of the day. In the market place where the platform had stood which held Joan tied to the stake, people were shopping for the days provisions.
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