The American cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach, with its row upon row of crosses and lots of Magen Davids, more than I imagined, is a fitting resting place for the brave souls who gave their all for their country and the freedom of the world.
Acres of grass as smooth as a putting green, with beautiful flower beds, here and there, among the polished, white, marble crosses, a handful of appropriately discrete and tasteful monuments, and a small, white, circular chapel in the center. The gardeners were there when we were, cutting the already cut grass. I had the impression they were always there, dutifully tending to the graves. Hundreds of people walking among the crosses, some looking for names, and barely a sound. Then a low stone wall overlooking the now peaceful beach across a half a kilometer of natural trees and bushes with trails winding down to the beach. It's done right, a perfect setting for the brave men who died there, heroes all.
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