Sunday, 13 September 2009


Today we went to the American cemetry which is just down the road from our house. There are 4410 men buried there. It is looked after by the American goverment. There is not a blade of grass out of place. Each cross bears the name, regiment, place of birth and date of death. The second grave that I looked at freaked me out slightly because of the name on the cross.

My Dad's name was John Cook and mine is Martin as you know. What are the chances of finding this ?
When you stand there and look at all the crosses and think that all these men had parents, brothers, sisters, wives. Now they are laying in a foreign land alone.

We found one grave of a man who died on this very day, sixty five years ago. Someone had visited his grave and placed flowers on it.

You cannot help but feel humble amongst so many heros.

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