The Philadelphia Inquirer's Art Carey remembers by talking to some of the veterans. Excerpt:

A Girard College alumnus whose father died in a coal-mine accident when he was 3, Barletta enlisted in the Navy in January 1944 when he was 17. At 5-foot-2 and 120 pounds, he barely met the physical standards.

But Barletta was determined. "I watched the newsreels and saw how the Nazis were treating prisoners," says Barletta, who lives in Middletown, near Harrisburg. "That made me angry."

There were other motivations.

"I felt like I was doing something my father wanted me to do. When he came here from Italy in 1913, he was 16. When World War I began, he wanted to enlist in the Army. He wanted to fight for his country. But he couldn't because he wasn't a citizen."

After basic training, Barletta shipped out to England, where on June 1 he was assigned to the Tide, a minesweeper.

On D-Day, the Tide headed for a spot between Omaha and Utah Beaches, clearing the way for the invading troops. The ship spent the day escorting each successive wave of infantry to shore.

The next day, the Tide was pulled off the line. The crew was exhausted. The sailors had had little time to eat or sleep. The captain ordered his men to grab some grub and some shuteye.

Barletta, more weary than hungry, found a spot on deck and threw down a mattress.

The next thing he knew he was airborne, propelled halfway up the mast by the force of an explosion. The Tide itself had hit one or more mines. The blast literally blew the ship out of the water and broke the hull in two places. Of the 112 men on board, 26 were killed instantly, including the captain. Had Barletta chosen to eat instead of sleep, he would have perished as well; the mess hall was destroyed.

The remaining 86 sailors were all injured, including Barletta. He hit the deck hard, on his right side, and was knocked unconscious. When he came to his senses, he was on a PT boat. Quickly recovering, he returned to the sinking Tide to search for survivors.

Below deck, he heard someone calling for help. He found an officer lying on a depth-charge rack.

"Hold me," the officer pleaded.

The officer's head was creased. Shrapnel had virtually scalped him.

Barletta held and comforted the man. The officer died in his arms.

Michelle Malkin recommends reading Ronald Reagan's 1984 Pointe du Hoc speech. I did, and I especially liked this:

We in America have learned bitter lessons from two World Wars: It is better to be here ready to protect the peace than to take blind shelter across the sea, rushing to respond only after freedom is lost. We've learned that isolationism never was and never will be an acceptable response to tyrannical governments with an expansionist intent.

One wonders if today the event would be characterized in the same way and whether over 10,000 Allied casualties in a single day would be reported as a great tragedy, a sign our military planners had failed us in some way.

[...]

Some basic historical literacy might provide Americans with some perspective on our current war and some understanding that even in the greatest triumph, mistakes, horrid mistakes, are made and yet through enormous bravery and determination we can persevere. At the very least we might have an appreciation for the enormity of the sacrifices needed to destroy fascism in the 20th century.

One lingering question, though....

Why does Google consider the birthday of Diego Velázquez so much more important?

(Um, not to knock the importance of Velázquez, but more people have heard of Bobby Kennedy, and today is the anniversary of his death. But I still think D-Day is more important. This in addition to Google's ongoing refusal to honor Memorial Day seems like a pattern.)