Public Story
A Memorable Day in Normandy
Summary
What started as a personal project to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the invasion of Normandy, France was picked up and published by the Washington Post and appeared on the front page of the paper's Metro section on June 6, 2014.
Authored by Julie Zauzmer
Harry Walker Zimmerman
“Going up the beach about halfway up the hill, somebody right in front of me a little bit in line stepped on a land mine and blew his boot off, I believe,” said Harry Walker Zimmerman, 90. “From there on, I put my foot down in somebody else’s footprint.” Zimmerman, who lives in Frederick, was drafted and trained as a truck driver in an infantry division. He recalled the difficulty of boarding D-Day landing craft because of heavy winds and waves. “I seen several guys start to step to the boat and miss it and go straight down, with all their stuff on,” he said. “I don’t know what happened to them.”
Mortimer M. Caplin
Mortimer M. Caplin’s D-Day came on June 7, not June 6. His ship crossed the English Channel and headed toward Omaha Beach on the first day of the Allied landing in France, but the troops could not go ashore. “The beach was so clogged up, so many deaths on the beach, that we waited offshore until dawn,” recalled Caplin, 97. “The beach was like a wax museum at that time. It was covered with bodies.” Caplin was an enlisted sailor assigned to naval intelligence, and his role during the invasion was beach master. He worked to direct traffic, remove obstacles and ease communications. He was awarded the French Legion of Honor in 2009.
Eugene G. Bujac
Eugene G. Bujac remembered facing a German pillbox — soon after disembarking in the second wave of troops on Omaha Beach — and thinking, “How am I going to get my men off this beach?” He said, “I also thought about my mother, father, wife, brother and sister.” Bujac, a staff sergeant in an infantry division credited rigorous training — and maybe his own spunk - with getting through the D-Day invasion. When he was told to conserve ammo, he recalled, he shouted back, “You can go to hell.” Bujack who lived in Annapolis, died June 1, 2014. He was 91.
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