Normandy and Doing the Big Things

A reflection on America, then and now.

Today is the 80th anniversary of one of the most pivotal days in the history of the world, the day the men, machines, and might of a determined collection of American, British Commonwealth, and Canadian troops came ashore in landing craft, parachuted into the night skies of France from C-47s and plywood gliders, and kicked down the door to Adolph Hitler’s Atlantic Wall.

Free French paratroopers jumped into Normandy and linked up with French Resistance forces, who had already kicked off a campaign to sabotage German communications, rail lines, and electricity supplies.

The fierce and bloody resistance faced by the Allies on the beaches and in the French countryside has been well-documented by historians, writers, and filmmakers of greater literary and historical skill than I possess. That unimaginable courage shown that day remains a testament to the indomitable human spirit.

The Allied invasion of Europe wasn’t easy, clean, without human error and tragedy, or ever a sure thing. Winston Churchill and Dwight Eisenhower knew the stakes and knew, even in the best case, that the butcher’s bill that day would be like nothing since World War I.

Once the battle commenced, the War in Europe would continue for another 336 days, exacting a terrible toll on Allied lives and demanding immense sacrifices to liberate Europe from Hitler’s unspeakable evil.

From the moment America entered the war after Pearl Harbor, it was clear that we could muster the industrial might, political and military leadership, and sheer will to tackle the most daunting challenges. We were flawed, loud, messy, sometimes arrogant, and uncouth, but our allies breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Americans could and would accomplish the Big Things. We industrialized and mobilized after Pearl Harbor in months, not decades, throwing money and brainpower at hard problems because the fight was too important to delay.

The world was burning, and the Nazis needed to be stopped, so we did it.

Normandy exemplified America’s ability to undertake complex and daunting tasks. Organizing a million men at arms, equipping, training, and supplying the vast war effort (especially when the most sophisticated computers available were essentially adding machines) was a feat of such scope that historians still struggle to comprehend how we achieved it.

Since then, it’s easy to believe we’ve lost the ability and determination to succeed as a people and a nation.

We seem to have lost a sense of purpose larger than today’s noise and chaos. We no longer tackle urgent tasks with the energy, determination, and wild American passion that once defined us. We decry problems and then declare them too big to solve.

We create clever apps for clever mobile phones but can’t build a bridge or highway without a decade of bureaucracy and infighting. We chase quarterly numbers instead of transformative dreams.

We don’t take on the tasks we claim are urgent with the energy, determination, and wild American passion to get the job done that once defined us.

We decry problems and then declare they’re too big to solve. We make clever apps for clever mobile phones, but we can’t build a bridge or highway without a decade of bureaucracy and infighting. We chase quarterly numbers, not transformative dreams.

We praise criminals and bullies and attack law enforcement and the military as “woke.” We watch as small, angry men attack the heart of democracy, spurred by pernicious lies. We obsess over trivial issues and transient outrages, conflating performance with patriotism.

Political terrorists confidently declare on cable news and social media that representative democracy and the American Republic will be replaced by blood-and-soil nationalism, panting for an authoritarian leader like the one those men in Normandy died to defeat.

Our society and politics chase imaginary demons, but watch too many of our fellow Americans praise the rise of evil men who tell us, as Hitler did, exactly how much pain they’ll inflict on humanity.

Getting those men onto that French beachhead that day took a nation determined to liberate a world held in the thrall of evil. It was a big thing, and when we widen our scope to examine the American war effort from 1941 to 1945, it was the defining effort for our nation for decades.

That cohesion and ability may seem gone now, but as dark as this moment seems, I remain militantly optimistic about America. We only feel lost until we are called again by a mission bigger than ourselves and our moment.

Eighty years ago, over 4,000 men died on those beaches. We rightly praise their sacrifice and courage. The men of that day are fading now, a handful of heroes who were part of the greatest endeavor we ever undertook. America is still worthy of what the Greatest Generation gave us all.

The weight of history is on us now, obligating us to remember who we are as Americans and how much we can achieve if we commit ourselves again to grand missions and ambitious goals.

Honoring their legacy means finding the resolve to do the big things to save this country for the generations who will look back at us a century from now and marvel that, against all odds, we fought for and preserved America.