“Although golden-aged, some of those military policemen talk about their wartime-conflict experiences, others shut down. I respect both sides of that coin.”
As our nation reflects and reminisces on D-Day and all the overlapping heroism transpiring during that military conflict, my thoughts transported to the US Army military police (MP’s) and their role during the Normandy Invasion throughout June 6, 1944. Operation Overlord was the umbrella under which was Operation Neptune, a subset of WWII which still stands as the most enormous seaborne invasion in history. Among its military power were soldiers whose arms were banded with a black sleeve upon which were two bold-white letters: “MP”.
Unmistakably, all warriors knew those two white letters stood for the law among soldiers. Yet, those military cops went above and beyond their designation on D-Day, serving as catalysts in traffic control and prisoner-of-war aggregation and facilitation, among any other role which needed filling. Under tremendous fire, MP’s performed valiantly and without fail.
Not much different than today’s American civilian police institution whereby cops do “The Job” and come under fire in varying ways. But this day…and this article…is about MPs on D-Day back in June 1944.
Retrospect and Respect
Having been a policeman and having worked the streets alongside cops who formerly served as military police officers, I admire the tenacity, determination, discipline and courage commonly seen in law enforcement, especially when things go awry and stuff hits the fan. When bombs detonate, flinching gives way to focus. When enemy is within striking distance, deliberation transcends discipline. When prisoners are taken, humbleness embraces humanity.
As I recently wrote about here on OpsLens, military police officers bring a unique brand and high caliber of training, discipline, dedication and tactical wit to stateside policing. America is quite fortunate to have such a depth of experience and abundant bravado instituted among its law enforcement entities.
With bombs bursting in air and the beaches of Normandy in absolute chaos, MP’s fought alongside cohorts of varying designations. MP’s conducted traffic control, sectioning-off and channeling US military mite along with its array of fighting and transport apparatus.
We can liken the ambidexterity inherent in MP’s during wartime battles to contemporary conflicts with social justice movements, anti-police factions, protests, anti-this and anti-that groups, subversives, and terrorist cells playing out on American streets. It goes hand-in-hand in the police profession. Anathema of varying stripes, I suppose. The democracy soldiers fought for on D-Day and many other conflicts of war delivered the freedoms we are meant to enjoy in modern-day society. And some push the envelope with those liberties borne of self-sacrifice.
Soldiers perished. MP’s sifted through the bodies blanketing the beach. MP’s collected identifiers. MP’s helped load our dead for transport to the United States: To the land of the free and the home of the brave. The mission was never lost on MPs.
Throughout and in the aftermath of the Normandy Invasion, MP’s aggregated and facilitated prisoners of war (POWs). In doing so, the tenet of keeping alive while also keeping alive prisoners who wished them dead is no easy feat for MPs. Because the invasion and battle transpired with such magnitude, in impromptu fashion a Division Prisoner of War Collecting Point was borne, the operational responsibility of which went to the MPs. When thoughts are naturally on fighting and staying alive, the thought of that endgame factor may not come to mind. MP’s were a combined soldier/logistician, guided by the Constitution in varying ways.
Throughout my police career, I studied psychology. The subject matter always grabbed my brain cells, and I happily allowed that to happen. I found psychology of significant use on the mean streets. Understanding the ticking of the human brain helps to arrive at resolutions, for both the police as well as the citizens who sought intervention. I also like to believe some suspects gleaned better views of themselves.
I wonder the psychology of the MP’s on Normandy Beach, looking left, looking right, witnessing brothers-in-arms dropping to the Earth for cover while others felt final breathes as they lay on shoreline. All the while, MP’s were destined to maintain order, self-composure, self-confidence, and adapt to a conflagration unfolding by the nanosecond.
Evacuating wounded brothers-in-arms while concurrently maintaining prisoners who caused said wounds beckons a uniquely strong brand of military man. MP’s laced those boots and deserve celebration, albeit posthumously for most.
The psychology of an MP during battle must seem insurmountable. Yet, some survived to return home. Although golden-aged, some of those military policemen talk about their wartime-conflict experiences, others shut down. I respect both sides of that coin. This is one reason I loiter around Veterans Legion halls and the heralded membership. The stories abound. The wisdom is free. The respect is as solid as Mount Rushmore.
Indeed, like stateside cops, MP’s are primarily designated to police its own membership and take measures according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ). On D-Day, I dare say that main purpose took another seat and saw not military police but US soldiers doing The Job…only in an uncharacteristic way in a foreign land under unequivocal duress while guided by democratic principles and the will to do what’s right.
Although the US Army had its own version of a Press Corps. recording events, and technology of today was not available back then, can you imagine the footage if MP’s during D-Day had today’s body-worn cameras attached to their uniforms? Imagine the boisterousness of bombs exploding while service to nation is carried out in the face of the vile Nazi Empire.
The infinite services of military men and women will always epitomize why I raised my hand and swore my oath to Constitutional liberty, including taking prisoners who sought to sully that document.
