My family and I recently came home from our summer holiday in France. From the Scottish countryside to the Normandy countryside. But what I wasn’t expecting was the emotional connection I'd feel as we drove along the equivalent of our B roads and when we visited the areas involved in the D-Day landings and western advance in 1944. Poppies blossomed in fields where shelling on both sides was rife. The drainage ditches where soldiers would have hidden and fought were still in use by local farmers. The skeletal remains of the temporary bridges the allies constructed to cross the meandering creeks were still visible. The sand on the D-Day beaches contains microscopic WWII munition debris. The picture I took at Pointe du Hoc, which is shown below, really sums up the dichotomy of what I saw. The sun was out, butterflies lazily fluttered by me and waves lapped the beach. It was idyllic. Yet, there was still barbed wire along the cliff edge, and what you cannot see behind me, t