THE DONKEYS BRAY
Major Richard Blaine finds himself an unwilling, invisible witness to the luminaries
listening dispassionately to an invasion plan that will cost thousands of lives.
The American section in the graveyard at NormandyA total of 4,414 Allied troopswere killed on D-Day itself, including 2,501 Americans. More than 5,000 werewounded. In the ensuing Battle of Normandy, 73,000 Allied forces were killedand 153,000 wounded. The battle — and especially Allied bombings of Frenchvillages and cities — killed around 20,000 French civilians.
THE DONKEYS BRAY
“Leadership: Lions led bydonkeys.”
- Erich Ludendorff
Eisenhower spoke for ten minutes,and his confidence and certitude seemed to sweep through his audience like a surgingwild fire … except for me.
I knew about the suicide note inhis left blouse pocket:
"Our landings in theCherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold, and I havewithdrawn the troops.
My decision to attack at thistime and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, theair and the Navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If anyblame or fault attaches to this attempt, it is mine and mine alone. May God havemercy on my soul.”
He ended his speech with astirring conviction of victory that rang false what with my knowledge of that note:
“We can and will do this!
I am absolutely confident in theoutcome!”
Field Marshal Bernard LawMontgomery then rose and briefed the major points of the overall effort withfocus on the ground plans. He was very much a monotone teacher to his attentivepupils.
The horrendous number of deaths thatwould follow in the wake of his plan seemed not to enter his mind at all.
Never raising his voice, pointingto the map and slicing the most complex maneuvers into the simplest designs forhis students at hand.
It was a masterful, bloodless performanceabout what I knew would be a slaughter and put the glue to the pretty puzzleparts.
Myself?
I saw rivulets of blood runningand oozing all along the contours of Montgomery’s large three-dimensional modelon the floor.
To all in attendance this wasmerely a large-scale chess game with flesh and blood soldiers as the pieces onan abstract board which held no danger to them … and, therefore, no meaning tothem either.
Our flag does not fly because thewind moves it. It flies with the last breath of each soldier who diedprotecting it.
It doesn't take a hero to order men intobattle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle.
Or a fool … or maybe a little bitof both.
At the conclusion, there was amoment of silence as the stage was empty. The King rose and faced the audience.
He began to speak. and it wasclear he was fighting to retain lucidity from his innate stammer. His wordswere precise, measured, and utterly sincere.
I respected his bravery in facingthis audience with such a handicap. It meant more to me than if I had heard himdo an encore of Henry V’s speech:
“Once more unto the breach, dearfriends, once more!”
Last to speak, and drawing alleyes, was Churchill.
When America withheld their aidat the darkest of the early war, his deep voice and stirring words were thegreatest weapons Britain had.
With a somber expression, he tooka fighter’s stance, pulled at his black lapels, and began to speak.
The tone was melodic and thephrasing poetic.
All the strength and sinew of hiswords, the only tool the English had in the beginning, was sonorous and touchedeven my cynical heart … a little … until I remembered his voice reminded meunsettlingly of my enemy, Mr. Morten.
What had Shakespeare written. “Godhath given us one face, whilst villains’ words giveth themselves many others.”
“We will invade. We will defeatGermany!”
He paused dramatically. ““I amhardening to this enterprise.”
A Voice like a thunder ofvibrating tuning forks echoed above all our heads:
“ENOUGH SELF-AGGRANDIZINGPRATTLE! TIME TO HEAR FROM THE CANNON FODDER!”
I sighed. Where was the ghost ofShakespeare when you needed him?
