Prologue
This week was the 80th Anniversary of D-Day, the Allied invasion of Nazi occupied Europe in Normandy, France. It was a pivotal moment in World War II, and for the “Greatest Generation”, the pivotal moment of their lives. It was especially true for my parents, both born in 1918. But for the war, they never would have met and but for “luck” or “fate”, they never should have survived. But they did both, met and survived, and lived what really is a great love story of a life, together.
This week’s ceremonies, with the few remaining veterans in wheelchairs celebrated by all, brings up memories of my parents and their friends. In their youth, they fought a war to “save the world”, literally. And then they went on to “normal” lives.
Here’s what I wrote five years ago – but it’s worth printing again, as the sacrifice of the “Greatest Generation” slips into history.
Mom and Dad
Both my parents passed away in the last few years. They were in their nineties, and lived a wonderful life together. They were active, travelling and enjoying, until just the last few years. Dad was on the tennis court into his 90’s, and Mom walked the beach for miles. They were very happy, and very in love, and our family was very lucky to have them for so long.
Mom was born in London, Phyllis Mary Teresa O’Connor. As the baby of her family she was nicknamed “Babs,” the name she used her entire life. She was British, and educated in England and later in Belgium. She married Donald Lee Dahlman of Cincinnati, an American soldier who was part of the vast US Army preparing to invade Europe. They joined in marriage on March 27th, 1944, in a civil ceremony in England.
He was a finance officer, and made sure the troops got paid. Mom supposedly worked in the Old Age Pensions Office in London, but was actually a part of the SOE, the Special Operations Executive. It was an elite unit who carried on the fight against the Germans in Occupied Europe, slipping into France on small aircraft to plot espionage attacks and communicate with the Resistance.
War Wedding
They were supposed to be married in June, but moved their wedding date up because it was clear that the invasion of Europe, D-Day, was coming. Both had received orders to report, so their ceremony was accelerated. Bab’s mother got all of her friends to pitch in part of their sugar rations for the cake, and her brother Leslie contributed champagne he had managed to get off the beach in Dunkirk during the evacuation.
Dad’s cousin and friend from Cincinnati, Buddy Levine, served as best man, and the two were married. It was a civil ceremony because Mom was Roman Catholic and Dad was Jewish. The Church wouldn’t accept their union unless Dad promised to raise any children in the Catholic faith, and he wouldn’t. In the end, the British end of the family had less trouble with the religious differences that those back in Cincinnati.
Secrets
As part of her secret life, Babs spent time in the “War Rooms” in London. Those were the secret underground headquarters of Prime Minister Winston Churchill and his generals. SOE was a small group, developed and used by those top leaders to carry out their particular missions. She became acquainted with some of the commanding Generals; the telegram congratulating them on their wedding from Omar Bradley is still in the scrapbook. She adored Bradley, but didn’t have much good to say about Eisenhower, who disparaged her “uniform.” The SOE was improvisational in much of what they did, both in Europe, and in their uniform choices. Babs didn’t appreciate criticism from a “Yank General.”
Like most British citizen, Babs adored Field Marshal Montgomery, “Monty.” He was their “winner;” the man who drove the Nazis out of North Africa and led the successful invasion of Sicily. She had a sketch of Monty, a small color drawing, done by a friend during a planning meeting. It was on the wall of Mom and Dad’s home for sixty-six years and it’s hanging in our family room today.
Short Honeymoon
After the wedding there was little time for “honeymooning,” just a couple days of hiking in the countryside. Then Don reported to Southampton, the debarkation point for much of the Army heading to Normandy. He would say he hit the beach “…with the third wave of WACs (the Women’s Army Corp).” He spent the next several month in France, making sure the GI’s got their pay checks, and putting his University of Cincinnati finance degree to use trying to deal with the complications of French, Nazi, and Occupation currency.
Babs left their wedding to report to headquarters, and was soon flying out of RAF Tempsford on a small single engine plane called a “Lysander.” The plane could land on a short farm field, only 600 yards, and was designed to fly low and close to avoid enemy radar. Agents were dropped off in the night, often met by French Resistance operatives who put flashlights out to outline the “landing strip.”
Normandy
She flew into Normandy, and helped prepare Resistance plans for D-Day. Phone lines were cut, rail lines disrupted; the Resistance did everything they could to confuse and delay German response to the invasion. She was in a village just days before the Allied paratroopers arrived on the night of June 5th. A Resistance cell she was working with was captured and killed by the Nazis. She escaped.
The D-Day invasion, the greatest amphibious landing in history, took place during a lull in the storms on June 6, 1944. 156,000 men hit the beach or parachuted behind the lines. Ten thousand died, but the Allies gained a foothold in Europe, that ultimately led to the defeat of Nazi Germany.
It would be ten months before Babs and Don would see each other again. Her missions would take her from France to Yugoslavia, and his work would follow the invasion across France into Paris. They were reunited at the end of the war, when Don was transferred back to London. The couple spent several months together there, while he arranged for their passage back to America, and a life in Cincinnati. But that’s another story.
I always love the Babs & Don WWII stories.