Pigs 'n Buttons: D(ennis) Day

With today marking the 70^th anniversary of D-Day and the Allied Force’s invasion of Normandy (a.k.a., “Operation Neptune”), I thought I’d give a slightly different perspective. You know the photos. You know the basic story. But there’s another story, which doesn’t get as much coverage, and I think that’s a shame as it’s a good one.

This is the story of The Magnificent Eleven. No, actually, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll back up. “Operation Overlord” was the Allied invasion planned for Normandy. It was to be the largest seaborne invasion in history and began the Allied invasion of German-occupied western Europe. The success of “Operation Neptune,” the actual Normandy landings, led to the restoration of the French Republic and, ultimately, contributed to the Allied victory in the war. This victory had a steep price – Allied forces reported approximately 12,000 casualties with 4,414 confirmed dead.

I’ve seen Saving Private Ryan only once. The opening scene depicting the landing on the beach was chilling. To imagine what those young men encountered as they engaged in this battle is inconceivable. The shock of the water, the weight of their gear, bullets whizzing by their heads, the blur of the cacophony of sounds of war, seeing their fellow soldiers – their brothers in arms, their friends, their comrades – fall.

It’s overwhelming to think about. Imagine how it was to live it. For them, the survivors and those who gave their all, I’m forever grateful and in awe and indebted. There’s a reason they’re called the Greatest Generation. They paved the way for generations to come, they made a better life, not just for themselves, but for all of us. And it’s why I want to punch punk-bottomed kids these days who don’t know their history and who walk around, entitled, and not knowing a real problem if it came up and shook their hand.

Robert Capa

I digress. Among the second wave of troops to land on Omaha Beach was celebrated war photographer Robert Capa. Over the course of two hours (imagine how long it really felt), Bob captured two reels of film, totaling 106 pictures, from the front lines. Miraculously, he made it off the beaches of Normandy, along with his film. Back in the London offices of Life magazine, fate stepped in. People assume when fate steps in, something good happens, but that’s not always the case. Yes, sometimes you miss your bus, meet a handsome stranger on the next bus, get married, and live happily ever after. But fate is just as likely to have you miss your bus, then have the next bus run over your foot as it pulls up. This more spiteful fate was working for Life at the time. Someone else working at the magazine? Fifteen-year-old lab assistant Dennis Banks. A mistake occurred in the dark room while these photos of Capa’s were being developed. A dryer was set too high and the negatives were basically emulsified. Of the 106 photos, 11 survived. They are known today as the Magnificent Eleven.

No one, including me, knows the rest of the story. Sure, I have questions. “Why was a fifteen-year-old working in a photo lab and on this super important task?” “Did they know it was super important at the time?” “What happened to Dennis? Was he fired on the spot? Did he try to cover it up? Were others involved?” We’ll probably never know the answers to these and other questions. Here’s what we do know: Bob never said a word to the London bureau chief about the loss of his film (Greatest Generation). And Dennis wasn’t crucified over this blunder. Otherwise, his moniker would be a well-known catchphrase. “Well, Sue, you really Dennised up that fourth quarter report.” No, I like to think Dennis went on to a happy and successful career at the magazine. Maybe they said, “Dennis, there’s an opening in the mailroom” and he went on to a storied career in the shipping and receiving area, increasing efficiency and implementing a new and improved way of shipping magazines. That’s the Dennis I want to imagine. Those from the Greatest Generation would have given Dennis a second chance, too. Not a pass and not a hand out, but an emphathetic hand up.