"Some clients think that the Normandy beaches are in Caen..."

My buddy Erik is in town for a week so there has been a fresh breath of American air in Paris. We were thinking of taking a day trip somewhere else in Europe but it turns out that things like cheap train tickets for students don't apply to 36 year old students. Anyway, after finding out that some trips were prohibitively expensive, we settled on going to see the Normandy beaches.

After struggling with the website for the SNCF (it turns out that if making money is not your first and likely only goal, websites aren't that user friendly), we went to the station and bought a ticket to Caen. Setting off with basically no plan, we got on the train for about two hours to do some historical tourism.

Arriving in the train station, we consulted a map and found to our chagrin that the Normandy beaches were not very close to Caen. Just as we were discovering this, a friendly old English speaking man approached us and told us about a tour available at the museum at 2:00. He had to be in his 60's with white hair covered by a baseball cap, bad teeth and walking like Phil Jackson before one of his multiple hip operations. He was wearing a stained yellow sweater, dirty khakis, white tennis shoes and a fanny pack. From this fanny pack he pulled out a map with the words "THIS BELONGS TO HANS!" at the top and showed us where the museum tour would go. More details followed: the museum would be in a crowded minivan, it would ONLY last three hours and how can you see anything in three hours, it wouldn't stop in various ports, the guides don't know anything about the beaches or World War II, and it costs 69 euros a piece. He then stated: "I will do the same tour except better and you can ride in my comfortable car for the same price. I am the expert on Normandy, ja. I have been doing this for 35 years, no one knows more than Hans. I normally charge 150 euros a head for my tour but for you two Americans, I will do it for the same price as the museum tour! So, we go to my car, ja?"

As this was no simple three card monte scam, I was overwhelmed and perplexed by its sophistication. Here was a charming old English speaking German with a dirty yellow sweater, a map with his name on it and his own car! I, for one, was sold but Erik wouldn't let us buy so early. He wanted us to take a walk and think it through so we told Hans we would get something to eat and maybe come back later. He told us to meet him over at the Chinese restaurant at 2:00 if we wanted to go.

We walked through Caen, got something to eat, and tried to go to the office of tourism to check out the prices on the museum tour. Caen being a French city, the tourism office was closed for 2 hours for lunch which would take us to right up to two o'clock, the witching hour for our trip with Hans. No other tours in sight, we were faced with the prospect of going to a bar in Caen and getting ugly American drunk instead of seeing the beaches, something we could have done in Paris.

Hans was our only hope so we went back, but with a plan. I, being the skilled negotiator of many a Cadillac and mobile home sale, would simply let Hans know that we were only interested in a shorter tour for less money. If he didn't agree, we'd just go the ugly American route.

Back at the Chinese restaurant, Hans came riding up on his bicycle, waving happily to us as he approached. He told us to come over to the back of the restaurant where his fine 1988 Toyota with an electrical tape covered back passenger window awaited us. As he locked up his bike, I negotiated the terms. He immediately conceded with a happy and loud "Ja, ja, of course!" He opened the car doors, ripped a huge loud fart and started the car.


Before seeing the beaches, however, Hans took us by Hertz. We thought maybe we would have to pay to rent a reliable car for the tour in addition to paying for the tour, but we were mistaken. Hans had recently bought a car from the Hertz dealer and was going to pick it up today. He drove us around the building to an alley. There was a tall guy with scruffy facial hair, his long-hair in a pony tail, standing there smoking a cigarette. Hans said that was the guy and he had to get to his safe in the trunk to pay for the car. It seems the clutch on the Toyota was going out and they couldn't repair for another week so he was just going to buy another car for 800 euros from the alley behind the Hertz dealer.

We then switched cars and left Caen, the train station, and any hint of familiarity we had with the area with out white haired guide to get some gas. Hans alternately cursed other drivers as "Idiots", "Bastards" and "Fools" on our way there. Once arrived, he exited the car to fill it up and gave us one of his "brochures" to read. The brochure was a poorly typewritten piece of paper that included much of the earlier sales pitch about how his tour was better than the others being offered, how knowledgeable he was and finally, how the 69 euros a piece price must be paid before leaving Caen. When he finished with the gas, he asked if we had read the brochure and stuck out his hand for the 69 euros. I countered that we had negotiated a lower price for a shorter tour but he responded that the mileage was the same. This of course made no sense if we were going on a shorter tour but before I could respond, Erik was digging out some money. He figured let's just pay and be done with it and he was right. All problems of this type can be solved without conflict with money, he said. Plus, what choice did we have now that we were at the gas station five miles outside of town?

After that little miscommunication, the day was actually fantastic. Hans gave us all kinds of insights on off the map locations such as cheap and beautiful chateaus, great restaurants, unmarked areas of historical interest and general information about the battles on the beaches.

We spent a long time at the American military cemetery which was amazing and truly depressing. I don't want to go too far into it here but I just can't imagine a similarly well received military intervention. I am no historian, but it made me long for a time where American intervention was desired at the time and celebrated long after. I wholeheartedly recommend this cemetery to anyone who makes a trip to France.

Back to Hans, he was equally knowledgeable about the American and German loss of life, victories, and strategic failures. He noted the brilliance of the English engineers who built the still existing artificial harbor at Arromanche, the effective attack on the long guns at Longues sur Mer contrasted by the failure to bomb the machine gun nests on the beaches, and the contrasts between the American and German military cemeteries. He went on at length with technical precision about the military equipment of both sides, with special praise for the American Rangers and the 88 German cannon.

Because Pointe du Hoc was closed at this point, Hans took us to the American Rangers museum. We paid four euros a piece and Hans got in free to see a documentary about the Rangers scaling the cliffs and taking out the artillery there. We were pretty tired at this point but even in our fatigued state we couldn't help noticing that substantial parts of this "documentary" were actually clips from "The Longest Day".

Near the end of our 6 hours with Hans, he stopped the car near a monument to the French pilots who died during the battle. Translating from the French he noted their bravery, heroism and ultimately their failure in the face of the superior "88" German cannon that shot down half of them, ja.

I commented that there was an astonishing loss of life during this battle, having just seen the numbers (10, 625 Americans and over 22,000 Germans, not to mention the British, Canadians, etc.). Hans said "Ja, when I was 16 yrs old and in the Hitler-Jugend I thought to myself, 'I will be drafted soon and have to go to Siberia. No, I will join the Luftwaffe and fly planes in officer training school." Ok, I know I was groggy but I am pretty sure our guide on the tour of the Normandy beaches had just said he was a member of the Hitler Youth and an officer in the Luftwaffe. "The first day of air training I was awaiting my turn in the plane when I hear that the rest of the flights are cancelled. How so? No gasssss! No gas? How can we win war with no gas? No gas for planes. No gas for tanks. They say on the radio that the Allies have landed at Normandy and we will push them back into the sea. I say shut your mouth you fools for we have no gas because they bomb us every day! I give the Nazis a few more days and then I have to act in my own interest."

Turns out the guy who had been driving us around for nearly 6 hours was not only 81 years old, a former member of the Hitler-Youth (but I am pretty sure everyone was forced to do this then), a former officer in training in the Luftwaffe but also a deserter. Yep, Hans bolted to Bavaria to hide with his cousin until the war was over. He said he was never so happy as when he saw those American GIs coming into his town. He returned to where his mother was living---her original house had been bombed by the allies and she was living in a state provided structure. He spent two or three years there and then...well, there's about a twenty year gap in the story. He says he has been in France for the last 40 years doing tours like this one. I am not sure if he ever spent any time in Argentina but I wasn't asking at this point.

One last thing, he picked us up in Caen where we were going to catch train back to Paris at 8:00. It was about 6:45 or so and I asked him how long it was going to take back to Caen. He said that all of his clients took the train back from Bayeux and were happy to do so because the traffic is so busy in Caen and one risks to miss the train. I gave light resistance but unsure about the Luftwaffe officer's twenty year gap, I decided that was fine. Plus, like Erik said, this problem can be solved with money so we just paid the difference and were happy about it, as were all of Hans's clients.

In parting, Hans told us he was happy to meet us and congratulated us for being better informed than most Americans. It turns out that most of his clients thought that the beaches were in Caen. "No, they are 25 miles from Caen and without me, they are lost." With that, he stopped the car in the middle of a somewhat busy intersection and let us out in the rain 200 yards from the train station.