“I had just arrived in Normandy. There was an apple orchard where our Army headquarters was tented. In the evening I walked into the flattened town spread out around a badly bombed church. A ghostly silence covered the deserted area except for the shoveling noise of a lone man trying to uncover his house. He saw me and glared. I represented the war, which had brought ruin to his house and home.

I picked up some of the church glass and moved on.”