When we look back on the events of D-Day and the campaign which followed, a number of images immediately appear before our eyes, even if no pictures are projected onto a screen. We see the vast fleets approaching the shore, men scrambling into the water from landing craft as the gates open or the ramps are lowered, parachutists jumping into the unknown, defensive fire – at first sporadic, then picking up – long siegelike warfare reminiscent of the trenches of World War I, Cherbourg surrendering and Caen obliterated, more and more French communities shattered by bombs and artillery, the carnage of the German forces trying to escape the Falaise pocket, the dash across France, the liberation of Paris, the failure of Market-Garden and the grinding campaign of the late fall, the German Ardennes offensive and death in the snow, the bridge at Remagen, the rush into Germany, the ruined towns of Germany with white – or more likely gray – sheets hanging out of the windows, ghastly scenes in the camps as Allied troops enter as liberators, the endless miles of German soldiers trudging to POW camps on one side of the road as Allied tanks and trucks roll forward on the other.

In these mental images, we glimpse some indications of the costs: death at Omaha Beach and parachutists hanging in the trees, destroyed towns and the gaunt looks of men too long under fire, crashed gliders and a storm-wrecked Mulberry harbor. And if we visit the battlefields today, we see much reconstruction from the physical damage of war, but not too far away the rows of crosses and stars of David in the cemeteries.