Introduction
Nearly 80 years after its completion, World War II has been the subject of intense discussion as the number of its remaining participants becomes fewer and fewer. Their children are now our oldest citizens, and their children and grandchildren are inheriting the post-war world that resulted.
Opinions on the war’s fallout are a mixed bag. Some have concluded that America reaped a windfall from the Allied victory, resulting in unprecedented prosperity, global community, and technological advancement. Others blame their elders for squandering that generation’s sacrifice and saddling us with cultural rot and looming debt.
This is not unusual. Most major historical events are complex, and differing worldviews can color their perceptions for many years after the last of the eyewitnesses has passed away. Regardless of our viewpoint, however, we can all agree that the heroism and courage integral to the participants in these crises should be celebrated and recorded for our posterity. These were ordinary Americans sacrificing their time, energy, and often their lives, to protect their home and fight against evil.
A Courageous Eyewitness
I would like to present to you one of these ordinary Americans, my grandfather, Elmer Herman Borrusch of Detroit, Michigan. His grandfather was an ethnic German Lutheran who came to America in the 1880s from East Prussia with many other German immigrants who settled in the Midwest. My grandfather was born in 1918, and at the age of 22 enlisted in the U.S. Army. He eventually wound up as a combat engineer in the 5th Corps of Engineers, first training in Scotland and Ireland, then moving to England where he received the call along with tens of thousands of others to participate in Operation Overlord, the codename for the Invasion of Normandy.
He hit the beach in the second wave, as his job was to support the infantry through mine clearing, demolition, and eventually fortification and road building. Below is his eyewitness account, written in an essay that was published by the Detroit Free Press in 1984 as a commemoration of the 40th anniversary of the D-Day invasion:
“All personnel, stand by for touchdown.” With these words on the PA, we braced ourselves for the shock of hitting the beach at Normandy.
We were the 5th Corps of Engineers attached to the 16th Infantry of the 1st Division and the 116th Infantry of the 29th Division. With the infantrymen we numbered about 250 men on LCI 94. This ship was designed to run aground in 2 ½ feet of water. We knew there were three rows of barricades and the beach was 400 feet from low to high tide.
At high speed, we struck the first row, stopped, reversed and hit again. The order was then given to unload the troops. I was among the first 20. The first thing I noticed was the heavy enemy shellfire; the second, that we were in deep water and I would have to swim for it.
I was a good swimmer, and although I carried a heavy load I made it to the beach. We carried TNT, since demolition was our job once ashore.
I and my friend, Frank Moran of Cleveland, crawled out of the water and took shelter behind a steel barricade. Then, with 60 feet of open beach to go, we ran for the protection of the sand dunes.
We passed a wounded infantryman of the 1st Division who looked at us for help. We had strict orders to disregard the wounded; that was the job of the medical teams. But I knew this area would be under three feet of water in an hour, so we grabbed him under each arm and pulled him to safety alongside a disabled U.S. tank. We leaned against it, trying to catch our breath. The gradient of Easy Green beach was about one foot rise to 10 horizontal feet in a four-hour rising tide. We had landed at 7:10 am in the second wave.
I noticed two things on the beach – our LCI was leaving and our sister ship, No. 90, was burning. But I was also aware of the scores of dead and wounded scattered over the beach. On a rising tide the wounded would drown if they weren’t picked up.
I peered around the tank and could see that the German pillboxes were still intact. In frustration I emptied my rifle at one of them. The infantry finally cleared the crest of Germans, and we started to move up the slope.
If it was hell for the Marines at Guadalcanal, it was the same for the Army at Omaha Beach. Little did we realize the horrors of the hedgerows and the Battle of the Bulge yet to come.
After 3 ½ years in the service, we knew at last it was not only the end of the beginning but the beginning of the end.
Conclusion
Historians, often generations removed, can debate the validity of the causes and the effects of the war, but it would behoove them to read the primary sources: these brave men and women who, through personal sacrifice and determination to protect their homeland from impending evil, showed the world the true meaning of American exceptionalism. It is difficult to imagine that this much ardor and passion could be sustained to defend an “idea.” But it is not hard to believe if it was to protect homes and families.
Elmer was one of many thousands of Americans who were courageously doing their duty during this time of crisis for Western Civilization. Today, we are in a similar position that the West was in the 1930s. Only God knows what the next few years will bring, but I pray that He will bring forward some more ordinary heroic Americans like my grandfather and his friends.
