How to Talk About Enemies on Memorial Day

“Where are the bad guys?” my son asked. He wrapped his hand around my finger.

“They are not here,” I said. “They are at the other cemetery, the one we saw before. But they are no longer bad.”

“Did they go to God?”

“Yes.”

My son stared at the white cross in front of us 72 years after D-Day. He stood about as tall as the cross.