ARROMANCHES, France -- The sounds of souvenir brass clickers, the kind Allied troops used to signal each other in the darkness of D-Day morning, fill the air here.
Or is it the sound of coins tinkling into souvenir shop cash registers all across Normandy?
D-Day means Dough-Day in towns like Arromanches, where the ruins of the Allies' artificial Mulberry harbor still dominate the coastal horizon. Dozens of flag-draped shops bulge with T-shirts, books, plates, postcards, World War II Zippo lighters, posters and toy Jeeps - all emblazoned with some variant of "D-Day," "Jour-J," "Normandie," or soldiers storming the beach. And all at "invasion special" prices.
"This is strictly Disney World," said Omaha Beach veteran William Jurman of Pittsburgh, as he held a T-shirt bag in one hand and munched on a plate of ketchup-laden French fries with the other. "They're celebrating, having a picnic, getting into Americans' (pocketbooks). It's a rip-off."
While tasteful mementos can be found - children love the creaky crickets while adults grab up dozens of wines and Calvados apple brandy with D-Day labels - others seem questionable, given the acres and acres of military cemeteries that dot this rural province. Like the D-Day video that comes with a container of "guaranteed" Omaha Beach sand selling for about $ 14 at a Vierville-sur-Mer shop.
Omaha Beach, where the sand is free, is steps away.
"We won't regret if (the 50th anniversary) is commercial because, after all, we are here for that," says shop owner Yvette Legallois, standing amid her usual wares: porcelain dogs, seashell ashtrays and fishing supplies.
Every shop caters to veterans - whether selling "l'authentique" shell casings or plastic "petit soldiers" that crawl when you wind them up. And for those longing for something from the home front, vendors have plenty of New York Mets and Oklahoma Sooners caps for sale.
"I don't agree with (the commercialization)," says Eric Parry of Lancashire, England, who was a petty officer on a British Navy submarine on D-Day. "You should be thinking of the poor fellows killed here."
Visitors have little trouble finding what they want, with the growing number of entrepreneurs selling souvenirs from the backs of trucks and hoods of restored Jeeps. Sometimes, the sellers are giving their wares away.
Two dozen veterans, many of them from D-Day, gave out reproductions of GI New Testaments and quotations from the Gospel wrapped in a "1944 Normandie 1994" cover printed "special for this occasion."
Said veteran John Jesperg of Lancaster, Pa.: "We're promoting peace."
If some wish the hawkers and promoters would retreat, others, like veteran Ken Duckworth of Essex, England, don't mind at all.
"People have to earn a living," Duckworth says, noting it would be a "jolly good idea" to buy a commemorative D-Day plate.
But if he doesn't find one to his liking, Duckworth will return home with his own very special memento from the bar next to Caen's Pegasus Bridge, the first target taken by British glider troops on D-Day.
"Look," he says, fetching an ordinary sugar cube without D-Day markings from his pocket. "It's as good as anything else."
