Something about going to sea becomes embedded in one’s muscles, bones, nerve endings, and brain. Those memories are as permanent as if they had been hammered in by a tattoo needle. I had that feeling one evening while lying in a bunk on board the liner Queen Elizabeth 2, on her way to England and France for the 50th anniversary of the D-Day landings at Normandy in June 1944. The sensation of humming and vibration told me this was a diesel-driven ship, even though I suspected a liner that went into service 25 years ago would be under steam-turbine power. Sure enough, a few inquiries revealed that the QE2 had been converted from steam to diesel in the late 1980s in the interest of fuel economy. The nerve endings were firing right.
Much, however, was unfamiliar to one whose seagoing experience was gathered in the course of riding gray-hulled Navy ships—not ocean liners. One obvious difference is in the wide, carpeted stairways between decks. She had none of the narrow, nearly vertical steel ladders we are all familiar with, those on which a sailor’s feet clatter on metal treads as he hurries up or down. The public rooms are large, as opposed to the relatively tiny compartments in Navy ships. Navy showers are not an issue; passengers can use as much fresh water as they want. The gambling casino has its counterparts only in the surreptitious games of dice and poker that oft times take place the night of a Navy payday.
The captain of a passenger ship has a much different mission than does a Navy skipper. His ship’s “main battery” is hospitality. Certainly he must be a capable mariner, for the QE2 is huge and requires deft handling, particularly when going in and out of port. But the captain must spend a lot of time with passengers, speaking at various gatherings, inviting people to sit at his table, or attending receptions so that passengers may be photographed shaking hands with him. Captain John Burton-Hall gives the impression of being typecast for the role. Hollywood would be hard-pressed to match his full, neatly trimmed build, robust manner, and resonant voice.
Restaurants and bars abound in the Queen Elizabeth 2, as do varied forms of entertainment. One day during the Normandy cruise Walter Cronkite hosted a showing of the celebrated CBS documentary he made with General Dwight D. Eisenhower on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of D-Day. Another night it was 91-year-old Bob Hope, singing clever songs and telling jokes such as, “Sometimes George Bums and I get together with some of the older fellows. We sit around and hold hands and try to contact the living.” Another time it was Robert Stack, host of “Unsolved Mysteries,” as he recalled his Hollywood years and his reluctant move to the television program that made him a star: “The Untouchables.”
Veterans and their families were everywhere in the ship—primarily U.S., British, and Canadian. Memories were rekindled, sometimes at the behest of interviewer Andy Rooney of “60 Minutes,” a man who covered the Normandy invasion himself as a young reporter for the newspaper Stars and Stripes. As he drew out descriptions of the invasion, some men talked eagerly, while others had to be prodded. Tears formed and voices halted at the memory of the dead and wounded on the Normandy beaches and in the waters beyond. A woman by stander sought to heckle Rooney by asking, “When are you going to interview some of the women?” Quick as a flash, he shot back, “If you can find a woman who landed at Normandy, I’ll interview her.”
On the D-Day anniversary itself, veterans gathered in force ashore. They were polite but skeptical as they awaited the words of a President who was not yet born during their generation’s war and chose not to participate in the war that confronted his own generation. He spoke at cool, overcast Utah and later at Omaha, as the sun came out. The dignity of the ceremonies was in keeping with the rows and rows of white crosses in the American cemetery. President Bill Clinton’s descriptions of the combat actions of 1944 evoked the spirit of sacrifice that was then commonplace. He said that many in that war had paid with their lives to buy freedom for those who would follow. In talking with a number of veterans after Clinton’s speeches at Omaha and Utah beaches, I was struck by their reactions. Though certainly still not fond of the President politically, they felt he had made a heartfelt effort to reach out to them and to acknowledge their contributions.
A day later, I walked the pebble-covered beach at Dieppe, France, site of a failed landing by Allied forces in August 1942. Riding through the French countryside during the tour was a touching experience, because the local citizens showed genuine gratitude for the role of their liberators. Signs expressed thanks, as did the displays of flags from the nations involved: France, Britain, United States, Canada, Norway, and Belgium. People waved as buses filled with visiting veterans rolled through.
That evening, the Queen Elizabeth 2 was docked at Le Havre, preparing for the short trip to England. Moored astern were four U.S. surface combatants, including the Aegis cruiser Normandy (CG-60) and the destroyer Deyo (DD-989). The latter honors Rear Admiral Morton Deyo, who commanded the heavy bombardment force at Utah Beach in June 1944; it was a nice touch to have her there. Hundreds of French civilians were on the dock, enjoying the atmosphere of remembrance. At 2000 it was time for evening colors in the Navy ships. I expected one of them to play taps. Instead, I heard two national anthems, first “The Star-Spangled Banner,” then the stirring “La Marseillaise.” It was a beautiful, symbolic moment on a foreign shore.