I've been to Normandy several times, but no trip was more meaningful than when, in 2000, I accompanied Bill Stockton, British 43rd Wessex Division, landed 9 June 1944, veteran of the Battle of Hill 112 (among others), wounded in action by a German 20mm AA gun in northern France, on his first return to Normandy since the war. It came about by chance. He was a friend of my English relatives; I had just arrived in England from France, and was talking about the memorials in Normandy. When I mentioned the number of wreaths at the remote monument marking Hill 112, he quietly said "I was in that battle." We got to talking and it emerged that he had never been back. I immediately offered to go back with him the next summer, and he agreed.
He recalled the war as if it were yesterday. The stories were harrowing, but he told them matter-of-factly, as if each was part of just another day. While I tried to take it all in, most of the time he seemed to be simply enjoying a French holiday. But the war left its mark, and visiting the war cemeteries brought it home. They were the only truly somber moments on the trip.
He talked about the fact that his division was holding its final reunion that summer; so many veterans had died over the decades since the war that the numbers had dwindled to the point where they simply decided to end the meetings. Bill lived on, happy and active, for another twelve years before passing away just a few months ago.
