THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, June 3, 1994 TAG: 9406030944
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY TONY GERMANOTTA, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: 940603 LENGTH: ST. JAMES, FRANCE
``Well,'' Halstead whispered slowly before walking off. ``I hope you rest in peace, son.''
{REST} When Halstead last visited with his cousin, Frederick E. Consolvo Jr., they were young men thrown into a terrible war and fighting to free France. The two were members of the Norfolk-based 111th Field Artillery Battalion and had survived D-Day and the bloody struggle to push the Germans from the high, stone-filled hedgerows that surround every field in Normandy.
But in the battle for Brest, Capt. Consolvo ran out of luck. He was a forward observer at the front lines on Aug. 25, 1944, directing his battery's artillery fire, when either a sniper or a mortar round killed him.
The word reached Halstead, an Ocean View man, that evening.
During World War II, such news - passed through the ranks long before any telegram was sent - was often imprecise.
``He was about three years older than I was,'' Halstead recalled, ``about 28, married and had two little kids.''
An armory in South Norfolk now bears his name.
As Halstead stood staring at the stone - a single daisy and two flags at its base - another D-Day vet whom he had never met came up and told Halstead he had known Consolvo. ``Quite well,'' the man said. ``I still miss the guy.''
Halstead just nodded. Between Normandy vets, it seemed no more needed to be said.
The ritual was being repeated throughout the field of white crosses as relatives and friends searched for the graves of loved ones lost in coastal France.
The setting was serene, so unlike the months of din and destruction in the summer of 1944 that had made the ceme
tery necessary.
But the weather earlier Thursday had helped carry the men back the 50 years, to a time when bedlam and fear were all anyone knew.
Thursday began with a downpour that gradually broke into a leaden haze. It was D-Day weather, Halstead said simply.
But by the time the men of the 29th Division reached the cemetery, the rain had stopped and the sun struggled through.
And so they gathered at the graves, some 500 strong wearing the blue-and-gray patch of the 29th Division. At the steps of the memorial chapel, flanked by French honor guards, they stopped for a brief ceremony.
It was the first time on this return trip that they would confront their ghosts, but each realized there would be many more such moments in the days to come, as they revisit bloody Omaha Beach and the other places where their buddies died.
Many in the crowd Thursday cried as these aging American fighters sang their national anthem together, their voices weakened by the years and the struggle to control emotions.
A few days earlier, on Memorial Day, thousands of schoolchildren from the nearby town of St. James had come to this cemetery. They placed American and French flags in front of each grave marker, and every child released a live pigeon in memory of the strangers who had died for their freedom.
The mayor of St. James, Michel Thoury, told the returning veterans about the gesture, saying the town spent the entire year teaching its young about the sacrifices that were made on their behalf.
``At the end of the school year, they shouted, `Never this again,' '' Thoury said. It was their way of thanking the dead, the mayor explained.
Later, Thoury recalled his admiration for one gentle, strong American who helped liberate his town when Thoury was a child. He never knew what happened to the man, but he sees his traits in those who have returned 50 years later.
``Thank you,'' he said, ``for the freedom you gave to me.''
It was the same wherever the men went. Rocco and Midge Russo, of Virginia Beach took a stroll Wednesday evening through the village of St. Lo and found themselves almost invited to tea by an appreciative French family.
Halstead, in another little town, Vire, was asked to dine with several different people when he ventured out of his hotel, and was begged to visit the local school to tell the children there about his experiences in the war.
Even at the world-famous Mont St. Michel, one of the so-called ``Wonders of the Western World'' and a busy tourist destination, the men were hailed as returning heroes as they went sightseeing.
A sign over the entrance to the one-time abbey-fortress offered a simple ``Thank You'' to those who had been here in 1944.
And Helene Cweude, a guide inside, paused at the end of her tour to tell the 29ers she was ``very honored'' to have been able to lead them through the landmark. ``You were so brave during the second World War when you came to liberate us,'' she said, ``Thank you very much.''
by CNB