June15, 2004

American veterans find visit to Normandy healing

If it hadn't been a record-breakingly successful business weekend for them, Margaret and Jim Stephenson might have had second thoughts about sleeping in the laundry room.

L'Atre Fleurie, the charming bed-and-breakfast created in 1995 by the Francophile former American military couple, is situated in the Bocage region of Normandy, a mortar's launch away from D-Day beaches, in the town of Balleroy.

Upstaged in size only by the Forbes-owned Balleroy chateau, L'Atre Fleuri (Flowering Hearth) caters mainly to an Anglo-Saxon clientele with a strong preference for American military. In the past two years, and especially since the beginning of the second war in Iraq on March 19, 2003, which kept United States military personnel mostly locked down on their bases in Germany and England, business has lagged. So the June 6 commemorations along the nearby Norman beaches for the 60th anniversary of D-Day augured well for the Stephensons.

With every bed and couch in Normandy reserved months in advance for the big event, L'Atre Fleuri filled its capacity of 12 guests in no time. But, with the phone ringing off the hook for two months, Margaret took pity on a group of unhoused U.S. veterans and agreed to put them up in tenuous conditions in her newly floored but still unfinished downstairs laundry room in the converted garage. Before long, she had also offered up her own living quarters to other desperate tourists and moved her husband and herself into the closet-size upstairs laundry room in their tastefully decorated country townhouse. At last count, there were 18 guests, not including the Stephensons.

With all of the bed-and-breakfast guests being in France to take part in D-Day activities, the house emptied early and filled up again late over that memorable weekend. "Breakfast bags" were distributed to guests as early as 5 a.m. so they would be sure to make it to their destinations on time since no one knew exactly what effect the million D-Day tourists in Normandy would have on local traffic. Fireside lap-suppers were served cheerfully by Margaret Stephenson as guests continued to roll in as late as 10 p.m.

For once, the weather cooperated. The breathtaking contrasts between the gorgeous, sunny 2004 commemoration day and the horror of June 6, 1944; between the hatred and fear of the Nazis to the profoundly moving and long-needed reconciliation with the German nation in the presence of Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder and some brave German veterans; and the unforgettable scene of World War II American veterans parading as best they could and receiving the French Légion d'Honneur medals assured that it was a profoundly moving day.

Eddy Elliot, the 90-year-old U.S. Army veteran originally from Gary and his two octogenarian veteran friends staying in the Stephensons' makeshift ground-floor bedroom, chose not to parade with the other veterans, preferring spectator status so they could grab autographs from Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks. Much to their amazement, they themselves were targets for enthusiastic young autograph-seekers, and they were overwhelmed to have little girls lined up along the streets of St. Lo to greet them with flowers.

As they filled up the tank of their rental car at a gas station, a pair of French gendarmes rode in on their motorcycles. Eddy, a former biker, was wearing his Harley Davidson shirt, sparking conversation with the two gendarmes. Within minutes, four more gendarmes rolled into the station, engaging in increasingly animated and cheerful conversation with the three veterans. Before long, Eddy and his former comrades-at-arms found themselves astride the official blue gendarmerie motorcycles with helmets and sunglasses loaned by the ebullient young Frenchmen. Photos were taken and addresses exchanged. Suddenly one of the gendarme, in a dramatic gesture, detached a chevron from his shirt and handed it to Eddy with tears in his eyes. The other gendarmes followed suit, giving their chevrons to the other veterans.

Eddy and his friends, as moved by this impromptu ceremony as by any of the official events, shook hands with their French fans and promised to reciprocate by sending them U.S. chevrons as soon as they returned stateside. More links in the bonds across the Atlantic, between generations and nations.

Eddy and his veteran colleagues claim that their whole stay in France was "just like that." They had nothing but praise for the tenor of the commemoration events themselves, including President Jacques Chirac's speeches, stressing the deep, historical bonds between the U.S. and France, as well as the friendliness of the French people whose unanticipated open show of affection in the streets for the veterans touched them.

For veterans like Eddy and his friends who are unlikely to ever return to the arena of their youthful heroism, this last visit to France was an all-important, healing experience. No one in France bothered to point out that Eddy and his friends are black Americans, and they chose not to evoke any of the difficult stories of integration they most certainly accumulated in the U.S. Army in 1944. While they could not wholeheartedly join in the enthusiasm of the younger generation of Europeans for the German presence at the D-Day events in a sign of reconciliation,

they expressed gratitude for Europe's commitment to world peace and to maintaining its exceptional friendship with the United States. They remained silent on issues of American involvement in Iraq.

Eddy now makes his home in New York City. Although he was born and raised in Gary, both of his parents had died by the time he got out of the war, and so he settled in New York.

At the end of the day, the Stephensons said they'd happily sleep in the closets of their own house again if more Americans were as generous, open, understanding and patriotic as Eddy and his friends.

Constance G. Konold is a former South Bend resident. She is currently a career and life coach living between Paris and Normandy.

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