June 6, 1944.

If Pearl Harbor is a day which will live in infamy, then surely D-Day is one which will live in intrepidity.

It was the culmination of the fears and hopes of an entire world; the crowning battle of the European Theatre; a crusade of courage against an unhinged tyrant.

It was 150,000 men marching toward victory, not knowing if they would survive to see its fruition. It was 7,000 ships and 11,000 planes paving the road to freedom. It was mothers, fathers, and siblings praying that God would bring their soldier home safe while they listened to the radio reports flooding in from the battle.

For some of the soldiers, sailors, and airmen who took part in the invasion, it was their first battle. Others were seasoned veterans.

Many would never make it off the beaches. Survivors would walk away permanently scarred and changed by its horrors.

Most of the soldiers who took part that day were barely in their twenties. They had their entire lives before them, yet they were willing to sacrifice it all for the cause of freedom. I wonder if the same could be said of you and I.

Before you answer that question, let me paint you a picture.

Seventeen years old.

You’re some 5,000 miles from home. The listing deck of the ship you’re aboard is tilting from side to side with the swells of the waves, causing your seasickness to be a thousand times worse.

A strangled scream catches your attention. Over the side of the boat, where the rope ladder swings, you watch in horror as a soldier is caught between the side of the boat and the landing craft he was supposed to be descending into. A swell forces the landing craft to slam into the side of the boat, crushing the soldier instantly. 

Violent nausea twists your stomach into an upheaval. The incessant throbbing of the guns from the battleships pound in rhythm with your heart. 

When your turn comes to climb down the rope ladder into the landing craft below, you pray that you aren’t the next unlucky victim to be crushed between the sides of the two sea-faring vessels. A few inches of water stand in the bottom of the landing craft. You look down to see vomit mixed with the salt water, sloshing around your ankles.

Sick as a dog, you try to push through the group of soldiers crammed around you, hoping to get to the side of the craft before your breakfast reappears. But you can’t get there in time. Instead, you clutch your stomach, knowing that the soldier you just threw up on is just as bad off in that moment as you are. 

You can see the shoreline approaching. Gunfire is erupting from all sides. In just a few moments you will plunge into water that rises above your chest, and charge onto a beach littered with mines and barbed wire. 

You look around at the soldiers around you and the other landing crafts just as crowded. You are the first wave going in. 95% of you will never make it off the beach. Chances are that you won’t be one of the few that live. You wonder how you’ll be killed. 

Will it be your first step on shore, when a landmine blows you apart? Will a bullet from a machine gun nest lodge in your chest, leaving you suffocating slowly in your own blood? Will shards of razor-sharp metal projectiles slice you to pieces? 

100 pounds of gear weighs down on your back. But it’s nothing compared to the weight that burdens your mind and soul. The freedom of the world is dependent on you. Most likely you will be required to pay for it with your own life’s blood. 

You step off into the swirling water. The blood of your friends is turning it bright red around you. The soldier in front of you is hit and sinks beneath the waves. Bodies of the dead, and those dying, bob in the surf around you.

This is the most pivotal moment of your life up to this point. You can choose bravery, courage, and selflessness. Or you can choose to allow fear to cripple your resolve for freedom and your country. 

What would be your choice?

Commemorating D-Day is so much more than simply remembering an historical event.

It’s honoring the sacrifices of the men who gave everything that day. It’s remembering what they endured for us. It’s carrying their heroism into the future.

As I think about my great-grandfathers who fought at D-Day, I see the spirit of America. They were young men who joined up to protect their country. They came from small towns that were the epitome of rural America. They had families and sweethearts waiting for them to come home from war. They had everything to lose, and yet still they were willing to go.

Most of the men of D-Day were like that. They were just kids, but they bore the burden of war with courage and bravery.

When they stepped onto the shores of Normandy, manned the ships that were firing on German positions, and parachuted behind enemy lines, they emerged as legends in their own time.

Today and always, let us honor their sacrifice, remember their service, and immortalize their valor.

A. M. Watson

Hebrews 13:8