Speaking of walking, I headed to the National World War II Museum on Saturday afternoon because it was one of the few non-Mardi Gras activities available for me to do. Entering the building was like traveling through a time capsule, with imposing tanks and other military vehicles greeting visitors.
The exhibits upstairs are divided into four sections that spread across two floors, combining interactive displays with personal artifacts to tell the stories of those involved in the six-year conflict. Oral history booths give voice to soldiers' experiences, while propaganda posters featuring Rosie the Riveter and anti-Japanese sentiment adorn the walls.
The events of June 6, 1944, are a major focus of the museum. On that day, Allied forces invaded Normandy and fought Germany for control of France. This campaign was the beginning of the end for Adolf Hitler, and U.S. victory in the Battle of the Bulge would lead to his downfall less than a year later.
Being in the museum was like watching Saving Private Ryan come to life. I always had respect for those who serve in the military, but I developed a newfound appreciation for the families who also made sacrifices. (In some ways, history is repeating itself in Iraq -- even if our presence there is unjustified.) A few hours exploring the past confirmed what I knew all along: war is an option that should only be used as a last resort when there's a legitimate threat to our national interest.
