FILE - In this June 1944, file photo, U.S. reinforcements wade through the surf as they land at Normandy in the days following the Allies', D-Day invasion of occupied France. June 6, 2019, marks the 75th anniversary of D-Day, the assault that began the liberation of France and Europe from German occupation, leading to the end World War II. (U.S. Coast Guard via AP, File)

Earlier this week, one of Fredonia’s most popular residents reached out to the OBSERVER to recall a memory of World War II.

Charles St. George was at the Battle of Iwo Jima while serving on the USS Alaska and happened to see the ship his brother was stationed on passing through. He asked one of his superiors if he could contact his brother, but there was silence on the radios during the U.S. mission.

In his In Honor and Memory series that was published in the OBSERVER from 2010 to 2014, John Fedyszyn wrote about the experience through St. George’s eyes. “This battleship that the USS Alaska participated in was credited for the Invasion of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. It also was credited with island bombardment of the islands of Minami, Daito and Okino Diato Jima, along with the liberation of the Philippines,” Fedyszyn noted.

St. George, who still lives in Fredonia, is one who is considered part of the Greatest Generation. We lose more of these men as the days go by. Though St. George was not at the historic D-Day, he remembers serving during that uncertain time in World War II.

Today marks the 75th anniversary of that invasion, which turned the tide on World War II and led to the liberation of Nazi-occupied Europe. It was the largest amphibious invasion ever undertaken that included tens thousands of troops from the United States, the UK, France and Canada landing on five stretches of the Normandy coastline.

One of St. George’s friends, and a member of the Elderly Men’s Cockeyed Association that meets for lunch on Saturdays at Central Station in Dunkirk, was a part of the invasion.

Fedyszyn documented U.S. Navy veteran Nicholas Andin’s recollection of the invasion. “Finally, around 1500 hours (3 p.m.), a flare was fired and the U.S. group of LCTs (landing craft tanks) left the safe, mine protected harbor at Plymouth, England, headed for an area that only the captain was aware of. The date listed in the U.S. ships’ log read June 5, 1944. Later, the group realized that they were sailing slowly so it could meet up with the main invasion body.

“Many on board, according to Andin, had taken bets on the actual invasion date. It was clear that whoever had June 6 would have a great chance of being the winner. About an hour later, the ship started gaining speed, and as one looked into the English Channel, one would now have the experience of being involved in the largest invasion ever recorded in history.

“An executive officer yelled out to those standing on the side of the ship to get back in their racks and get some sleep. They would need to be fresh and ready for the events that would be coming up soon. Little did anyone on the U.S. ships realize that this new day that was only three hours old would go down for many as the longest day of their lives.

“We all know now that the ship was heading for Normandy. A landing would take place on a group of beaches in France.

“Being on deck on the ship’s conning tower, as the group approached Normandy, while still sailing at a fast rate of speed, the captain yelled out the orders, ‘Drop anchors while full speed ahead!’ ”

“The ship came to an immediate stop and the entire ship shrugged and felt as if it was going to be ripped to pieces. ‘It was an ear-splitting, defending, horrendous sound that I will never forget,’ Andin said. ‘As we stood still in the water, it seemed as if someone was firing a car over us.’

“It was actually the USS Texas, the large battleship firing a volley of three of its 16-inch guns. If one today stood near a 2,000-pound projectile from a battleship, the round would stand as high as a 6-foot man.

“Now all our training was to be put to the test of landing troops and equipment on the beaches. The LCTs are designed to float in as little as 3 feet of water. In peaceful landings, a captain could actually take his ship and sail it right on the beach, drop its back ramp, and men could actually walk off and equipment such as tanks or jeeps could drive off. When the landings were completed, the captain who had dropped his anchor in the front of the ship about 300 yards off shore would then bring in his anchor, moving the ship back out to deeper water.

“On Normandy, the captain did not have that luxury. He had to bring in his ship as close to the beach and wait under heavy machine gun and mortar fire for his ship to unload. ‘In our landings, I witnessed two soldiers that only a few days earlier I had breakfast with being cut down by machine guns,’ Andin said. ‘Some soldiers, while walking onto the beach, were taken under water by the heavy loads they were taking in. They may have walked into a deep water area. Our ship took heavy machine gun fire. Three sailors were injured.’

“Unloading a LCT that was fully loaded usually took about one hour. The LCT was loaded making it as easy as possible to get unloaded. It seemed that the 6th day of June 1944 took hours and hours to unload. The next day the log read, ‘unloading time: 18 minutes.’

“Now empty, the captain took us out of harm’s way into the safer waters of the Channel. Thinking maybe the worst was behind us could have never been further from the truth,’ Andin said. As the group sat out in safe waters, the order of the day changed from 12 hours on and 12 hours off. The only variation was that when it was your 12 hours off, soldiers would help load the wounded and dead that were being sent to the ship from the fighting on the beach. When loaded with the wounded, dead and equipment that needed repair, the ship headed back to Plymouth. The U.S. then completed three more landings with more troops and much more needed supplies. The landings were safer. The beaches were secure. The only difference was the numbers of dead the ships were receiving.

“After the last delivery of fresh troops and much needed combat equipment, the captain received word that some members of the ship were being reassigned duty. Being among this group of reassigned men, Andin was transferred to LST 692 (landing ship tank). The prime duty of his new ship LST 692 was the transportation from the beach and taking soldiers to a hospital ship that was stationed out in the English Channel and out of harm’s way.”

Richard Titus, co-author with George H. Burns III of the “No One Forgets” series and a Dunkirk resident, also shared some remembrances by veterans who are no longer with us. William Rybij, who died in 2001, noted in the OBSERVER about his experience: “I’ll say one thing about the beach. I landed there during the first wave, in the morning, and I’d say a lot of lives were lost by being careless. … The mines were marked with a white cloth and a piece of stick, and still they stepped on them and blew up five guys.”

Others highlighted in recent OBSERVER articles included area residents: Ken Dill, Art Lamb, Ed Pienta, Frank Nicosia and Frank Rizzo.