360 Degrees Longitude by John Higham Read Free Book Online

the perspective of the Germans looking out over the water. We had been reading about the 1944 invasion as part of the kids’ homework, but there was a difference between holding a book in your hand and walking in and through the bunkers, foxholes and decrepit equipment. Even though more than six decades had passed, somehow there was an echo of the thundering bombs and a whiff of gunpowder that was palpable in the otherwise serene landscape.
    Later, as we explored the American Cemetery, I was astounded that even after multiple generations, there were still personal connections powerful enough to have people travel 5,000 miles to lay flowers at the grave of a loved one.The very existence of a German cemetery came to me as a surprise, since they were the enemy, but there was a beautifully kept cemetery honoring them as well. I was hoping that our experience at the D-Day memorials and battle sites, complete with leftover military equipment and foxholes, would help the kids understand the horrors of war and the human cost of the freedom they enjoyed. However, as is often said, education is wasted on the young.
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    Jordan’s Journal, June 27
    Today we went to Omaha Beach. It is a D-Day beach. I climbed on some wrecked ships. Then we went to a cemetery. Then we went to a place that has lots of holes in the ground. Katrina and I loved to run into them and then play hide-and-seek from Mom and Dad. Then we went to our campsite. I found a Star Wars light saber in my cereal box!
    Home base during our stay in the Normandy invasion area was the city of Bayeux, home of the Bayeux Tapestry. (It’s okay, we hadn’t heard of it, either.) Before we left the area, we paid the tapestry a visit. The Bayeux Tapestry is a 76-yard-long embroidered cloth that hangs on a wall of a museum. It tells the story of William, Duke of Normandy, kicking English butt in the year 1066. It seemed ironic that both the English and French revere the guy. The French seem to love to remind the world that Billy the C. was French. The English seem all too happy to overlook the simple fact that their first king was from across the Channel. On the other hand, they also seem happy to overlook the simple fact that their current monarch is German.
    The Bayeux Tapestry marked the beginning of a long learning curve for us, when we realized that not only could we not see and do everything, but more importantly, we didn’t want to see and do everything.
    â€œWhat did you guys learn?” I asked as we left the museum.
    Katrina screwed up her face. “The French weren’t very nice, and the arrow through that one guy’s eye was gory.”
    Jordan was more succinct. “There’s an amusement park nearby.” Grasped in his stubby little fingers was a brochure for Festyland in Caen, our next destination. I sighed in defeat. The kid had a radar that I was sure some government agency would like to duplicate. He could find any high-adrenaline entertainment within 50 miles.
    Cycling out of Bayeux the following day, Jordan heard the word “Caen” used in the same sentence as “next destination.”
    â€œIsn’t that where Festyland is?” he asked.
    â€œYes, Jordan. Festyland is in Caen.” I could immediately feel Jordan’s pace quicken, as the pedals on a tandem are linked together.
    Folks in those quaint English villages (towns?) would look at us oddly as we passed through on our bikes; the French, in contrast, would roll down their car windows, and give us a huge thumbs-up and shouts of encouragement. Of course, for all I knew, they could have been swearing at us for slowing down traffic, but I didn’t think so.
    By the time we got to the heart of Caen, it was the peak of the afternoon and very hot. We’d been following hot and smoky buses through traffic that was jack rabbit fast sometimes and turtle slow at others, only to find ourselves gazing at half-completed apartment buildings where the Caen