We started at the American cemetery first, at around 4 pm, so the sun was already pretty low in the sky by the time we got there. It wasn't too cold, but I was pretty chilly by the time we got done. When we walked in, there were only one or two other people there that we saw. The gate was in the sun, so I didn't get that great of a picture of it, but I posted it anyway. We went through the gate and past a small visitor house, which looked like it was being renovated. There wasn't anyone inside, so we kept walking into the memorial area.
There were 3 main big structures in the memorial area. Two of them were maps, one depicting the Battle of the Bulge, the other, D-Day and the wider European theater. There were two smaller maps behind the big stone ones, both a sort of time-lapse of the fronts and territories held by both sides when the Americans joined through the end of the war. There was one for Europe and one for the Pacific, although there weren't any American troops from the Pacific buried in this particular cemetery. There was also a large list of names of people who were reported as casualties, but their bodies were not recovered or identified.
The tallest building in the memorial area was in the center; a large concrete structure with an inscription in both French and English on opposite sides. There was also a small chapel in the middle of the structure, with a place to pray if needed, two American flags, some smaller flags, and a guest book off to the right side. There were names written from all sorts of places: Germany, various places around Luxembourg, Portugal, and lots from places all over the US. I wrote my name, and USA (Iowa), but I did not write a note. I couldn't really think of anything that the people before me had not already said better than I could have. After this, we proceeded to the cemetery itself.
The cemetery holds 5,076 Americans, some of them not identified. The tombstones are white stone. Jewish were marked with the star of David, all others with the cross. As there was snow on the ground, there was not much contrast between the tombstones and the ground. There were many footprints ahead of us on the main path, some of them pretty fresh. That is one good thing about the snow, I suppose, you are able to see that there were many people here before you. There was even what looked like wheelchair tire tracks, headed towards a specific grave. I did not follow them.
Standing among the tombstones, the reality doesn't sink in at first. I have watched many shows about wars, seen documentaries, visited memorials, and have heard lots of numbers of who died in what war, when, and how. However, they are just numbers that your mind doesn't really comprehend unless you stop and think about it. I want you to stop and think about it: each one of those white crosses is a person who died in a snowy field, away from friends, family, and home. Each one of them had a mother, father, maybe a wife, maybe a kid or two. I want you to understand that I am not one of the types of people that goes around thanking the troops serving at every turn or praising the efforts of military around the world. However, I am the kind of person who hears a story like this and gets both sad and angry. Sad about the person who died, and angry at the forces that caused them to. Each one of those graves holds a dead person who could have been just like the two of us walking next to their bodies. That is a powerful realization.
Enough soapbox for the day, though. Our walk took us past a Medal of Honor recipient: Day. G. Turner. I proved the Wiki link, but just to make things easier, here is the description:
He commanded a 9-man squad with the mission of holding a critical flank position. When overwhelming numbers of the enemy attacked under cover of withering artillery, mortar, and rocket fire, he withdrew his squad into a nearby house, determined to defend it to the last man. The enemy attacked again and again and were repulsed with heavy losses. Supported by direct tank fire, they finally gained entrance, but the intrepid sergeant refused to surrender although 5 of his men were wounded and 1 was killed. He boldly flung a can of flaming oil at the first wave of attackers, dispersing them, and fought doggedly from room to room, closing with the enemy in fierce hand-to-hand encounters. He hurled handgrenade for handgrenade, bayoneted 2 fanatical Germans who rushed a doorway he was defending and fought on with the enemy's weapons when his own ammunition was expended. The savage fight raged for 4 hours, and finally, when only 3 men of the defending squad were left unwounded, the enemy surrendered. Twenty-five prisoners were taken, 11 enemy dead and a great number of wounded were counted. Sgt. Turner's valiant stand will live on as a constant inspiration to his comrades. His heroic, inspiring leadership, his determination and courageous devotion to duty exemplify the highest tradition of the military service.
To paraphrase, he held off a much larger enemy force, from a house, with only a few men, using hand-to-hand combat at times, for 4 hours. And the Germans surrendered.
Wow.
The most important person buried here, however, has to be General George S. Patton. I'm pretty sure most of you know who he is, but for those of you who don't, I provided a link. Patton did not die in the war, but after it in a traffic accident. However, he wanted to be buried along with the men that had fought alongside him, so he was moved to Luxembourg. His grave is in front of all of the others, between the two big American flags.
We were almost to the car to leave when they began playing Taps (the trumpet/bugle piece played for funerals of soldiers, among other things). I was a bit surprised, and stopped walking pretty abruptly, enough to get looks from not only my boyfriend, but the family that had just arrived in the parking lot. I stood there and listened to it, then proceeded to explain what it was to Charel as we got in the car.
We left the American cemetery and drove to the nearby German one: Sandweiler German war cemetery. This one is a lot smaller, despite holding twice as many soldiers as the American one. All of the tombstones are grey crosses instead of white, and there are two or three names per stone. I imagine that this is because of less funding, but I'm not quite sure on that. The remains came from all over Luxembourg, where they were found in mass graves a lot of the time. I think it is pretty noble to have set this up for the hated enemy (at the time), and it shows that there was respect for the dead even though they were on the other side of the fighting.
As for the rest of the day, well, I only really have food to talk about. Saturday is fries day for lunch, and we also had trout. The only thing that really struck me was the fact that it was a whole fish. I'm really not used to that, but I dove in anyway. It was quite good. Dinner was Raclette, a type of Swiss cheese. We melted it on special trays that you put into a heating element. You then either eat the cheese straight (Charel) or put it over potatoes (Me). This was also really good, but after three potatoes, a bit of salad, and lots of cheese, I was very full.
I typed quite a bit more than I thought I would. Perhaps because all the newness wasn't so overwhelming, and I had a lot of time to be philosophical. Or the fact we didn't do a lot so I actually remembered details. Oh well. Pictures here: Day 13 (Added to existing Luxembourg album, new pics near bottom)
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