‘Pap, voor Engels moeten we een opstel schrijven over helden.’

‘Oh,’ antwoord ik vanuit de keuken, ‘wie is jouw held?’

‘Helden zijn stom, Batman, Superman of Spiderman, ze bestaan niet.’

‘Weet ik, maar het kan toch ook anders bedoeld zijn?’

‘Echte helden willen geen held zijn denk ik. Ze zijn het vaak per ongeluk, en wat ze deden vinden ze volgens mij helemaal niet zo bijzonder.’

Vervolgens komt hij met dit verhaal:

The unknown soldier

Sometimes the biggest hero’s are just ordinary people. People who didn’t ask to be a or become a hero bit who did it just by coincidence. People who, on that one moment in history, were on that one place that made them special.

On june 6 of 1944 the allied forces landed in Normandie. A lot of young soldiers ran out of the landingboats onto the beaches, were the German’s had arranged their heavy defense line.

Although the allied soldiers were an easy prey for the machingunposts in ‘The Atlantikwal’ they bravely fought their way into occupied Europe for our liberation. Almost 10.000 soldiers, of the 155.000 who were deployed on that first day, died in combat. Numbers which increased to an incredible 209.000 during the following weeks.

Therefore, my hero is the unknown soldier. The men who gave their lives on the day that the ocean turned red of their blood. Often boys, sometimes young fathers who fought for the freedom where we live in to this day.

‘Silent hero’s’ who’s stories are still told from the military graves at: SWORD, JUNO, OMAHA or UTAH beach.

Made by Ties Roelen and a little help from my dad