There’s not a lot to see. A wide, sandy beach. Waves lash the shore. Winds blow across the English Channel causing rigging cables at a nearby boat rental to clang against their masts. It could be almost any beach anywhere with the exception of a concrete bunker that sits up a little further along the beach.

But this is Omaha Beach, one of the five sites along the shores of Normandy, France, where Allied forces landed June 6, 1944. Omaha is where American forces landed during Operation Overlord, what we commonly call D-Day, and that makes the beach hallowed ground. It was enough just standing there, envisioning what had taken place 79 years ago. Eyes closed. Listening.

Words sometimes really do fail.

When our oldest son, Brandon, suggested a family European vacation with Paris as the starting point, I immediately thought about visiting Normandy. Fortunately, so did Brandon. He’s a “Band of Brothers” fan. Together, we had watched the HBO series years ago.

The European trip would be a real family adventure. Mary Ruth and I would come in from the states. Brandon and his wife, Neha, would fly in from Hong Kong. Neha’s father, Francis, would come from India. Our youngest, Michael, would join us later in Venice and stay with the group in Rome before returning to Saudi Arabia where he works.

I suppose you could say visiting Normandy was an item on my bucket list, but I never really expected it to happen. But after a family morning tour of the Louvre and a visit with Mona Lisa, Brandon and I boarded a late afternoon train for the two-hour trip to Bayeux in Normandy. The others decided to stay in Paris and made plans for that evening and the next day.

Brandon had done all the side trip planning. He got the train tickets and a place to stay and booked the daylong tour. I was impressed.

We checked in at the cozy inn and set out to investigate the surroundings. Bayeux is exactly what I had expected of small French town. Narrow streets. Lots of shops. Great looking bakeries. Interesting sidewalk cafes.

After dinner that evening, we scouted out the departure site for Overlord Tours and visited the Cathedral of Our Lady of Bayeux before returning to the inn. Next morning after a quick breakfast, we were on the tour van at 8:30.

Our first stop was a row of bunkers built by the Germans high above the Normandy beaches. Our tour guide, Thierry Bidault, said the Longues-sur-Mer artillery battery with its command post and four casemates each housing artillery played a strategic role during the Allied landings. Brandon and I climbed inside the bunkers around the rusting guns and imagined what is was like in June 1944. Atop the bunkers, we looked far out onto the choppy English Channel.

Omaha Beach was our next stop. It wasn’t crowded at all. Our guide talked briefly about the area and the assault, answered a few questions and suggested we just roam along the beach. Someone later asked me if I had gathered any sand as a memento. I wish I had thought of that.

Visiting the American Cemetery and Memorial at Colleville-sur-Mer is much like visiting Arlington National Cemetery. It’s solemn. It’s stunning. It’s moving. The cemetery is located on a bluff overlooking Omaha Beach. The graves and markers in neat rows. The landscape meticulously kept. Because we were visiting in late May, workers were setting up chairs and getting the grounds ready for Memorial Day weekend.

Certain areas are set aside for visitors to wander among the graves. Nearly 10,000 soldiers are buried there. A wall behind the memorial structure contains the names of hundreds missing in action. My father served in World War II in the Navy. Walking along the pathway, I thought about Dad, and I thanked the thousands resting there for their sacrifice.

“Dad, we’d better get back to the van,” Brandon urged, but I needed to complete my walk from one end of the cemetery to the other. Then I was ready to leave.

On our way to the van, I stopped to read one of the plaques. Good thing I did because a story about Bethlehem resident Sgt. Walter Geldon, Company C, 2nd Ranger Battalion caught my eye:

“June 6, 1944 was Sergeant Geldon’s third wedding anniversary. He and his fellow Rangers sang songs to celebrate the occasion shortly before landing on Omaha Beach. The 23-year-old steelworker from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, was cut down by enemy fire within minutes of coming ashore.”

Walter was first buried in France, one of thousands beneath endless rows of white crosses. Later, the family brought the body home, and when his wife, Anna, passed away in 2002 at age 78, she was buried next to him.

After the cemetery, we visited Point du Hoc, another heavily fortified German position overlooking the Normandy beaches. The Allies had bombed the hell out of the area; huge craters still mark the landscape.

Following lunch and a museum tour at Saint Mere Eglese, Thierry took our group to various sites familiar to “Band of Brothers” enthusiasts. I could tell Brandon was riveted and pleased.

Going from site to site, we traveled narrow, hedgerow-lined roads through villages that did not appear to have changed much in 79 years. At several points, I wondered how two vehicles could possibly get by each other. And I could see soldiers walking those roads years ago.

Near the end of the tour, we stopped in Angoville-au-plain, a small village. After hours of riding, walking and listening, I could have decided just to stay on the van, but I’m glad I didn’t.

Thierry took us into an 11th century church to share its moving story. Two American medics, Robert E. Write and Kenneth J. Moore, with the 101st Airborne Division, had set up a hospital in the church soon after the initial invasion. Battle raged around the building. We were told a bomb actually came through the roof but failed to explore when it hit the stone floor. Divine intervention, I surmised.

During the ongoing fighting, possession of the village changed hands several times. When the Germans controlled the area and forced their way into the church, they found that the medics were impartially caring for German soldiers as well as Americans and a child from the village. They retreated and tacked the international symbol of medical aid on the church door: a flag bearing a red cross.

That was a fitting end to the day’s adventure. On our way back to Bayeux, I thought about that centuries-old church and its bloodstained pews and the fact that a village with a population of fewer than 100 is working to restore the church that is historical in so many ways.

We arrived back in Bayeux a little after 6 p.m. It had been a long day. We thanked Thierry and walked back to the rail station to wait for the return train to Paris.

Later, I would ask Brandon how much I owed him for this side trip since he had made all the arrangements. He laughed and said it was my birthday and Christmas present – for the next couple of years.