COLLEVILLE-SUR-MER, France -- President Clinton was at the hub of the ceremonial commemoration of D-Day's 50th anniversary.
At dawn, he presided as a giant wreath was put over the side of the carrier USS George Washington as Taps played.
He paid homage to the bravery of the Allies' invasion of Normandy at its most storied battlegrounds with three speeches, all of them moving.
He watched troops march, planes fly overhead in missing-man formations, amphibious vehicles land.
But what was most remarkable about Clinton's day was that his participation seemed the least important part of what was happening.
While Clinton walked alone on Omaha Beach - an event that seemed conceived, at least in part, for the benefit of the cameras trained on him - many of the war's survivors, tears streaming down their faces, were walking silently among the rows of white crosses and stars.
Gray-haired men carefully lowered themselves to their knees before buddies' graves.
Walter Presley, 74, of Odessa, Texas, wept without shame. In the 102nd Airborne Division, he parachuted knee-deep into a Normandy swamp on D-Day.
"I remember my buddies going down," he said. "I was scared - there's no doubt about that." Asked how he felt about Clinton's speech, Presley shrugged. "Oh, it was fine."
Mike Bortnicker, 70, of Haverford, Pa., was with the dead, too. His wife, Flyn, was amazed at the emotions she saw. "He never talks about it. Never," she said.
"Today has been extremely traumatic," said Bortnicker, who served in the 2nd Infantry Division. "It opened up my mind. I've been thinking about what happened to us all week."
Clinton's speech, he said, was fine. But it showed in his face that nothing his president could say could affect him the way his own memories were.
Clinton came here hoping for reconciliation: with the generation of Presley and Bortnicker, who fought in a war that ended before he was born, and with the U.S. military, which has always regarded him with skepticism.
Little of the wrath the U.S. military has sometimes directed at Clinton was in evidence here. He has sought out the company of uniformed men and women on this trip.
He has promised to give them enough money to do their jobs, he has praised their valor, he has tried to connect with them. Harold Filkins, 68, of Albany, N.Y., watched Clinton at Omaha Beach and said the president's lack of military service "should be overlooked. He represents the country."
Asked what Clinton learned about the military during his stay aboard the USS George Washington, adviser George Stephanopoulos said, "What was most overwhelming was the sense of duty they had."
When two F-18 pilots were asked where they were going next, they replied, "Wherever the commander sends us." Clinton, Stephanopoulos said, was deeply impressed.
Clinton's speeches reflected that. "We look at this terrain and we marvel at your fight," he said at Pointe du Hoc. "We are the children of your sacrifice. We are the sons and daughters you saved from tyranny's reach."
At Colleville, he described the battle that occurred before he was born, read letters written in a time he never knew.
He tried to link those long-ago events to today's challenges: "How will we build upon the sacrifice of D-Day's heroes?" he asked. "Like the soldiers of Omaha Beach, we cannot stand still. . . . They struggled in war so that we might strive in peace."
John Merrell of Long Beach, Calif., listened to Clinton and afterward found the courage he had 50 years ago when he fought in the 357th Regiment of the 90th Infantry Division.
He did what he had long dreaded, studying the names on Colleville's crosses until he found Richard Mellun. A half-century ago, when Merrell was 19, Mellun was his best pal.
In the insanity of battle, Mellun yelled to Merrell to get down, then was shot and died. Merrell ducked. He crawled to the corpse of his friend, paused for a dangerous moment and fought on.
Merrell once thought very little of Clinton. Monday, he found forgiveness.
"He wasn't even born when our war happened. He doesn't understand," Merrell said through tears. "What really can he do? Let him be."
