Winston's War_ Churchill, 1940-1945 - Max Hastings [256]
On, on you noble English!
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof.
At Colleville, the local mayor appeared on the sands to welcome the invaders, his person adorned by a gleaming brass fireman’s helmet. At Omaha Beach, the U.S. 29th Division landed to meet the most savage resistance of the day. “As our boat touched sand and the ramp went down,” an infantryman recalled later, “I became a visitor to hell.” To Ernest Hemingway, serving as a war correspondent, the guns of the supporting battleships “sounded as though they were throwing whole railway trains across the sky.” The invaders fought doggedly through flame and smoke, wire entanglements, pillboxes, minefields and gun positions, to stake out the claims of the Allied armies inside Hitler’s Europe.
Hitler’s Atlantic Wall was breached. Churchill spent the morning of D-Day in his Map Room, following the progress of the landings hour by hour. To few men in the world did the battle mean so much. At noon, he told the House of Commons: “This vast operation is undoubtedly the most complex and difficult that has ever taken place.” He lunched with the king, then returned for the afternoon to Downing Street, then at 6:15 felt able to tell the Commons that the battle was proceeding “in a highly satisfactory manner.” Instead of the carnage which Churchill feared, just three thousand American, British and Canadian troops died on D-Day, together with about the same number of French civilians. By nightfall, in places the invaders had advanced several miles inland, securing perimeters which would soon be linked. A long and terrible struggle lay ahead, as invaders and defenders raced to reinforce their rival armies in Normandy. There were days when more Allied soldiers perished than on June 6. But the triumph of Overlord was assured.
Critically aided both by Anglo-American deception plans, which kept Hitler in expectation of further landings, and by preinvasion bombing, the German buildup proved much slower than had been feared. By nightfall on June 7, 250,000 of Eisenhower’s men were ashore. Three evenings later, there were 400,000. Churchill warned Parliament of the need to avoid exaggerated optimism. Though “great dangers lie behind us, enormous exertions lie before us.” On June 10, in a cable to Stalin he expressed extravagant hopes about Italy. Alexander, he proclaimed, was “chasing the beaten remnants of Kesselring’s army swiftly northwards. He is on their tracks while mopping up the others.” In truth, such a display of energy, so comprehensive a victory, was entirely beyond Alexander and his armies.
Two days later, on June 12, Churchill was at last allowed to visit the invasion beachhead in Normandy, an expedition which, of course, he adored. On the way to Portsmouth, he sought to tease a companion, Adm. Ernest King, a venture akin to striking a match on an iceberg: “Don’t look so glum936. I’m not trying to take anything away from the United States Navy just now.” He was enchanted by the spectacle of the invasion coast, cabling again to Stalin: “It is a wonderful sight to see this city of ships stretching along the coast for nearly fifty miles and apparently safe from the air and the U-boats which are so near.” Lunching with Montgomery, he expressed surprise that the Norman countryside seemed relatively unscathed: “We are surrounded by fat cattle937 lying in luscious pastures with their paws crossed.” Before returning to England, the destroyer which carried him fired a few rounds towards German shore positions, at a range of six thousand yards. He declared his delight at sailing for the first time aboard a ship of the Royal Navy in action.
Back home, a grim welcome awaited. That night, German V-1 flying bombs began to fall on London. Churchill stood outside Downing Street, scanning the sky and listening to the growling motors of the “doodlebugs” overhead, whose sudden silence presaged descent and detonation. They were soon landing close by him. On