Corporate Social Review Magazine 1st Quarter 2013 | Page 6

Crib Notes
Paul S. Rowlston

Overlord
On this day in 1944 young men, in the prime of their lives, died
in their thousands. By the end of August close to a half a million
souls would be snuffed out, lives ended; wives, mothers, fathers,
brothers, sisters all left behind, dealing with the sudden hole in
their lives.
They were not the first to die, nor would they be the last. But they
were part of one of the defining moments of our age.
On this day in 1944 the biggest invasion force ever seen was
launched into the teeth of a hundreds of miles of concrete,
wire and steel; thousands of guns and literally millions of mines
– fortifications designed to hold them on the beaches and
slaughter them where they stood.
This was not the first great clash, nor was it the last hard line that
would need to be crossed if this brutal war was to be ended and
peace returned to the world.
On this day in 1944 terrified young men walked into the fire, rode
to their deaths, jumped into darkness because their countries
asked them to do it and their conscience demanded that they
must. They stood up to tyranny and they fought back against a
crushing evil that expected and tolerated no resistance.
As you might have already guessed, the Second World War
looms large in my life. I was born some 23 years after the
landings on the Normandy beaches. Indeed, my Old man was
born on this very day 64 years ago, five years after the landings,
and yet these events still have a powerful hold on me.
Perhaps it’s because I grew up knowing all four of my
grandparents, knowing that all four of them struggled, and
fought and sacrificed so that I could grow up free.
Perhaps it’s because, in Britain, the post war period and post war
austerity extended right into the sixties and the seventies. The
swinging sixties may have seen mini-skirts, Minis and mop tops
define an age, but, just like me, they were born and raised in dirty
grey northern towns, towns still physically and mentally scared by
a season of war like no other. For sure, if you grew up surrounded
by beige and linoleum and baked beans, and if you were ever
convinced Tuna fish was a luxury sandwich filling, then it’s pretty
clear you’re not a beneficiary of any kind of post war prosperity.
Perhaps it’s simply because my ‘people’ had so little to celebrate
in the shadow of former empire that ‘two world wars and one
world cup’ remains a viable football chant to this day.
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But, perhaps, it’s much, much simpler than that. Perhaps it’s
because some events, some moments, and some sacrifices
exert such a great gravitational pull that they bend light around
them and just cannot be ignored.
Last night, in relative peace, prosperity and comfort, we sat and
watched a series of documentaries about Operation Overlord,
about those distant events that loom so large. We watched
scratchy black & white footage, we peered at blurred, faded
pictures and we listened to the words of some of the few
remaining men - men from both sides of the wire, who survive to
remember their own part in those brutal minutes, hours, months
and years.
We watched and we were amazed, amused, informed and –
ultimately – moved to tears by simple stories, told by simple men
about a complicated, terrible time.
We watched and we remembered … because some things
should never be forgotten. Some things should weigh heavy on
our collective conscience, some stories should be passed down
from father to son, lest we forget the lessons of the past and
doom ourselves to repeat them.
So, it’s the tradition and the nature of these notes that here, at
the tail end, I seek a point, find relevance to the ramblings, link
what’s on my mind in this moment to the bigger pictures painted
here in these pages.
But I wonder, are some lessons so obvious that they don’t need
further explanation? Are some events so significant that their
importance does not need any further clarification?
I think perhaps yes.
I think perhaps it’s enough to remember that some things are
worth fighting for. Some things are worth dying for. And, when
faced with a terrible evil, a terrible threat to our collective way
of life, we can put aside what makes us different, we can stand
together to do what must be done, we can fight for what is fair,
what is right and what is worth protecting.
On this day in 1944 men fought and died on distant beaches.
They bled and died so that the world could be a better place.
Don’t we all owe it to them to make sure it is?

CORPORATE SOCIAL REVIEW
2013/07/29 10:45 AM