D-Day Commemoration

On Sunday afternoon, June 7, Big Man and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves at the D-Day Commemoration at the D-Day Museum. (We discovered the festival quite by accident, since we parked around the corner from there for the meal-service our church was involved in with two other churches of our denomination at Ozanam Inn, which is about a block away from the museum.) We felt lucky to have stumbled upon it, and went straight there after helping to serve the meal at Ozanam. We noticed that food and drink tents had been set up in the museum parking lot, adjacent to the Contemporary Art Center, but we had already eaten before getting to Ozanam Inn, so we passed straight through.

The day was hot and sunny, but not so uncomfortable that we didn't want to join the families and individuals across the street from the main museum complex where a group of World War II equipment (a typical GI tent complete with weapons, cot and personal items; a doctor's jeep; a German missile launcher; and an American tank, with wooden "Hershey chocolate" boxes lashed to the outside) had been set up with docents costumed in World War II garb. Very interesting, especially to small boys, their dads, and of course to Big Man. We spent some quality time there (me sweating bullets -- it was so hot and the sun beat down so hard, I took Big Man's straw hat away from him and wore it myself) before going inside the museum (blessedly air-conditioned).

To our delight, the big open atrium of the museum, with the World War II planes hanging from wires down from the ceiling, had been turned into a concert space, with folding chairs set up in rows. A big band was playing World War II music, from the theme songs of all the military services ("The Marine Hymn," "Anchors Aweigh," and so on), to the favorite dance music of GIs and their girls. Each song was introduced with a lot of information and hints, and those in the audience who shouted out the title were rewarded with -- what else? -- Hershey bars. It was all the songs you'd expect: "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree," "Over There," "Little Brown Jug," "String of Pearls," "Pennsylvania 65000," "In the Mood," "Chattanooga Choo-Choo" and on and on. Big Man kept exclaiming over the high musicianship and great arrangements of the band, made up almost exclusively of older guys.

The emcee pointed out the big open area in front of the band and told everyone it was a dance floor, and meant to be used. The crowd needed little encouragement, and stepped out to dance in the old way. There were young couples dressed in their interpretation of World War II civvy-style: the young women had on hair snoods and strappy chunky shoes, and the young men sported fedoras and loud sport shirts.

But it wasn't only young people dancing. WWII vets and their wives glided around the dance floor, gracefully following each other's rhythmic moves as they had been doing for a lifetime. My favorite was an Italian-looking older man with a silver pompadour and a sport shirt and slacks set in butter yellow trimmed in black, and his wife, with her lacquered hair and pastel pantsuit, expertly making their moves on the dance floor. At the end of each dance, they kissed. So sweet. (Big Man and I danced too, but we were not as expert and graceful in those old dances as the old folks were.)

Figuring we weren't staying that long on that particular day (but we're definitely going back for an extended visit of several hours to do the place justice), we did not buy tickets for the museum itself. But we did enjoy several exhibits on view in the main area where the concert was, and just off it in the hallways to the gift shop (of course we have to go in the gift shop!) and the coffee shop at the back.

Near the restrooms, there was an exhibit of photographs and other material about American GIs in German POW camps. There were the shots you'd expect, of gaunt men standing in rows to be inspected, of the flimsy huts in which they lived out their captivity, of a Red Cross visit to a camp bringing extra rations, and so on. There was also a letter from the War Department to a family, letting them know their loved one had been confirmed as a POW in German hands, and a graphic layout of such a camp. But there was also a hauntingly strange and beautiful black and white photo of a scene from a musical, as put on by American prisoners in a POW camp. One young man was dressed as the heroine in what looked like a straw wig, and was leaning over the railing of the stage set (stage set?) toward the hero. We could hardly tear ourselves away from it.

There was another free exhibit just outside the theater that shows the museum's special films (such as "The War in the Pacific" which we saw that afternoon), with art work by a man who had lied about his age to get into the army and thus came to war and combat at the tender age of 16. The paintings were raw and graphic and colorful, and extremely powerful and affecting -- and hard to look at.

We definitely recommend the D-Day Museum, and next year will schedule the D-Day Commemoration festival on our calendar!